Best Mom Ever Forever Shirt

Category

Trending

Design

Original artwork, copyright protected

Printing

Printed to order and shipped from the USA

Processing

2–3 business days after your order is placed.

Delivery

5–10 business days within the US, 7–15 business days internationally.

Cost

Calculated at checkout from your address and the number of items.

Tracking

A tracking number is emailed as soon as your order ships.

Read the full shipping policy

Our own version of the Best Mom Ever Forever Shirt and I love this thematic setup was charming at first. We relocated to upstate New York for the end of my third trimester and what we assumed would be temporary statewide stay-at-home orders. I took Zoom calls while my husband did chores and our toddler shadowed him, honing location-specific first words such as “screwdriver” and “trowel”—not “spade,” an error on my part that both my husband and son were quick to correct. To help mitigate the harrowing headlines and the panicked calls from friends and family worried about my pandemic pregnancy, my husband got deep into his classical record collection (requests for Telemann quickly replaced those for “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”). Careful to stay out of the frame, he would bring me coffee during my first Zoom of the morning. My Mr. Mom became well-acquainted with separating the lights from the darks, and with our Miele vacuum cleaner the same way Keaton ultimately tamed his robotic ’80s upright; like Garr, I would get dressed in the morning and fall asleep, totally spent, on our couch at night, only to be gingerly moved by my husband to our bed where I’d comfortably awake the next day. By May, he revealed that he was kind of sad that our days as a tight-knit, three-person unit would end—both when things “went back to normal” and when my due date arrived.

Best Mom Ever Forever Shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt

But normal never came. Whether it was the Best Mom Ever Forever Shirt and I love this baby’s colic, or my excruciatingly painful nipples, or George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery and Elijah McClain, or the dismal and terrifying political landscape, or the postpartum depression, or the fact that it had been months since we’d been back to our apartment in the city or seen friends or had steady childcare help, the summer months of my maternity leave left us battered. When I went back to remote work in the fall, there was nothing charming about our millennial remake of Mr. Mom. Broken down by the mind-numbing repetition of the diaper changing, and the feeding, and the nap schedules, with no possible hope for free time, for either of us, the best my husband could do most days while I worked was keep the kids fed and away from outlets and sharp objects. I remained barely conscious enough for bath time and bedtime at night. The dishes and the laundry piled up, and as I’d make the pilgrimage from my makeshift office to the kitchen, where I’d prepare the same revolving cast of dinners every single week, our relationship became transactional—and contentious. We barked reminders at one another about paying the mortgage and loading and unloading the dishwasher, playing a dangerous game of “whose day was harder?” He felt underappreciated and unseen. I felt underappreciated and overworked. The classical music became menacing to me, so my husband would play a more tolerable mix of Steely Dan, Little Feat, and Donnie Hathaway when I was in earshot. In October, when he was decisively out of earshot, I finally got around to listening to Taylor Swift’s Folklore, alone. I cried. For no reason, for all the reasons.

1. Length is measured from the highest point on the collar down to the bottom hem. 2. Width is measured across the body of the shirt under the armpits, one way. 3. Sleeves are measured from center back to hem.