I do

sleep with a stuffed animal. A bear.
A "Lazzie" bear.
Named after a local department store and sold for several years during the holidays when I was a kid.
The shtick was that it was the same soft, white bear every year but was given a different knit sweater and cap. At least I think that is how it went? It doesn't really matter. My bear didn't come from the department store. This bear was left for me by Santa when I was in sixth grade. (Yes. It does seem a little old to still believe...I am sure it was more that I was genuinely protecting my younger sisters from the awful truth?) I think all five sisters got one...but I believe mine is the only one still in use. (I am going to fact check that, though.) I don't need to fact check that mine was the cutest and the most loved.

Over the years, I have occasionally been asked questions about the bear. "Do you really still sleep with a teddy bear?" is probably the most common question. Also, there have been inquiries as to the gender of the bear and honestly, I cannot say. Not because it is some secret that I cannot share...more that I just don't know? The bear has never had a name and has never really been a he or a she. The bear has just been there...with me, for me. No questions asked. Loyal. Understanding. The sweater is long gone, as is the cap. The bear's right arm is barely still attached and the hole between the legs is so large, the stuffing hangs out a bit and the legs kinda hang funny. (There are definitely a couple of jokes there. Keep it clean, folks.) Almost every single night for more than thirty years we have kept one another company. The bear made it through my first marriage... better than I did. The bear has been there when I am sick, cold, hot, alone, not alone, sleepless...you name it. The bear is there. If you find yourself doubting that I really love and care for bear...STOP. I know the bear should have a name. And that name should indicate whether it is a girl bear or a boy bear. Unless, at 11, I were clever enough to pick something that wouldn't give it away. "Snowy" or "Cuddles" or something.
Your bear?
Your name.
Your story.

My bear.
My mistakes.
My story.
Currently, the bear is wearing a "Shake It Records" baby t-shirt that helps kind of hold everything together. Ideally, it would be a onsie. You know, to hold it all in? I wash the t-shirt often. I made the mistake of washing the bear (tied up inside a pillow case). Even on the gentle cycle, the bear took a beating. Plus, I felt really guilty. (Who wants to be tied up in a pillowcase and thrown in a washing machine? Like a damned Law and Order episode? Quite traumatic. For me, anyway.) I thought the wash cycle would never end. Or, that when it did, I would untie the pillow case and just find a bear carcass and stuffing. The bear was kind of smushed and a little more misshapen...but survived.

When the boys were little and the bear was in better shape, we would sit on the bed together and I would ask the bear "yes or no" questions. If I held the bear just right under the arms, I could make the head nod yes or shake no. They could ask questions. too. They came up with some great ones. When you are forced to ask only "yes or no" questions, you really have to be clever. It may not sound like fun...but believe me, it was. They were little kids. With a Mom who slept with a stuffed animal. What isn't fun about that?

If I were a skilled seamstress....I would repair it. If I could go a a few nights without it, I would leave it with a skilled seamstress to be repaired. Some days I think I will have the courage to do that...leave it in the arms of a loving bear repair person but I am not there yet. Before you get all weirded out and contact child services because I am grown woman with kids who needs a bear to get through the night...let me set you straight. I have been without it a handful of times. (But not when I was in the same city. Wait...not true...the bear was not there for the birth of either son.) I don't think I have taken the bear on a vacation when we had to fly in several years? Car trip...yes. My very sweet husband offered to put the bear in his bag when we went to Key West for a long weekend last year. The bear stayed here. I can do it...I just don't like to do it. Leave the bear behind, that is.


Does it seem like I find any of this embarrassing? I really don't. As I tell this story, I feel like I am getting closer to being able to let the bear go. To a seamstress. Not like "go away." I think some of that is because of my amazing husband. He doesn't judge. And, he once confessed that he has never wanted a tattoo but said if he did get one, it would be of the bear. How sweet is that?!?!? We were making the bed this morning and I tossed several pillows at him. He grabbed the bear (by the throat!!!!!) and dared me to throw another pillow. I didn't. And, I pointed out that I know funny...and THAT wasn't funny.
Throwing pillows=funny.
Even thinking about twisting the bear's neck=not funny.

You now know more about the bear (and me) than you would have ever thought you wanted to, right?

Halfway point. Write at you tomorrow. Promise to leave stuffed animals out of it.