Security Breach - Circa 1975

Back when D1 was the lone sprout on our family tree, Mr. Wonderful bid Uncle Sam goodbye and finished his degree at In-State University (IU) regional campus. Our sole income - a whopping $298.00 per month under the G.I. Bill - also had to cover tuition. We rented a little house from St. Raymond (my dad) for $134.00 a month. Thus, I was always on the prowl for freebies and cheapies to enrich baby D1's world.  

The library, of course, and church and the YWCA, where we found "Diaper Dolphins," the latest in mother/baby swim classes. This is D1's ACTUAL swimsuit with patch. (A post on hoarding is overdue.)

We both loved this program - at least I am pretty sure. At bath time D1 began hurling her rubber ducky into the tub shouting "one, two, frrreeeee!" Surely, her adorable way of sharing her joy with ducky. 

Anyway, when we learned that D1 would not be an only child, I hoped to stay with Diaper Dolphins until someone shouted "Whale" (which did happen, but that is another post). 

Wanted: maternity bathing suit. Growing room. Cheap. 

If the 1970's are history to you, you should know that pregnancy was hush-hush. Expectant moms essentially pretended not to be pregnant. No one announced her with-child status until little children starting asking if there was a "beach ball under there," and then only to a select few (the grandparents).

Our clothing was also in on the ruse. We wore yoked, pleated or gathered over-blouses and dresses (no hint there, right?). Often these fashion statements came with a huge bow under the chin - as in "no-one-will-notice-I-am-wearing-a pup-tent-over-a-watermelon-as-their-gaze-rockets-upward-to-the-bow." (See purple number at right.)

Maternity swimwear also took a camouflage approach, with the top designed to hide several small children.  No warning labels back then, but I would offer this: "Warning: Check for stowaways before laundering."

Anyway, the Sears Catalog came to my rescue with a turquoise and green print number - ON CLEARANCE.  Catalog orders were snail mail or phoned in. Since this was a hot item (sale!), I should phone.

(Also, when you talk with an 18-month-old for most of your waking hours, you long to speak with an adult.  Any adult.  And adults answered the phones at Sears!) 

So I called. I gave the page number in the catalog, the size, color number and pricing. Meanwhile, the saleslady looked up the item in the same catalog and wrote up the order. She chatted and suggested other purchases as she got all the details.

Then, we verified: "You are ordering a turquoise and green two-piece maternity swimsuit in size small, correct?"  

"Yes."

"And your name - wait!  Libby, is that you??"

"ALMIRA?"

Keep in mind, dear reader, we had not announced.  

And Almira was our very chatty (two-pots-of-coffee) neighbor who lived across the alley.  

And she worked at Sears. Um, apparently in the catalog department.

Still, what are the chances that our neighbor would find out I was pregnant before the grandparents because I ordered from Sears?????

I had no choice but to admit who I was.  We had a good laugh, and I cautioned that we had not yet announced. So far as I can tell, despite the caffeine, Almira never told.

And it was a blessing to have a caring friend who knew why my mornings were queasy, and to advise on keeping D1 from unloading her dresser every single day. (Yardstick through the pulls.)

And so D1 and I continued to enjoy Diaper Dolphins.  

And D2 joined us for the swim - stylishly concealed under a turquoise and green tent.