On Friday during my lunch hour, I went shopping for a birthday present for R on the girls’ behalf. As usual, they had grand ideas about what they wanted to get their dad–all of which were way out of my price/affection range–and no ideas about when we would actually have time to do the shopping required in the 24 remaining hours prior to his birthday.

I tried to convince them that the most meaningful gift would be something they made with their dear little daughterly hands–something out of Sculpey, maybe? (I love Sculpey, btw.) I should have just pinned a “kick me” sign on my butt, given the withering, disgusted looks that sweet suggestion inspired from my teenager. (Sometimes I worry that her eyes will roll so high into her head, we’ll have to go to the ER.)

So, fine, I offered to grab R a shirt on their behalf—a shirt being the default 11th-hour gift for all men.

This is the kind of task that you still have to do even when you’re no longer married to your kids’ father. Even if you don’t care anymore about appropriately acknowledging your ex’s birthday, you need to make sure your kids do.

And if you’re me, such an exercise reminds you that you did care once, which leads to having a blog-worthy experience in the men’s shirt department at H&M. (No, nothing like that.)

In the old days, back when I loved R, I would have spent weeks trying to find the perfect item, even if it was just a pair of socks, even if it required me to splurge on something at Barney’s or Bergdorf Men. I would not have dashed into the closest, cheapest store I could find, hell-bent on getting out of there with enough time to eat my sandwich in the park.

But, because I tend to analyze everything to death,  I became profoundly aware of my ever-shifting level of investment in the shirt purchase. Here are a few of the thoughts that went through my head:

• Does R still like muddy green colors? Are button-down collars OK, or does he hate them? It’s one of those, but I forget which. Wow, how weird that I’ve completely forgotten. For all I know, his taste in everything has changed. Now what do I do?
• OMG, this is the most hideous shirt I’ve ever seen–something a pimp would wear. Maybe I should get this for R, who would have to wear it because it’s from the girls. Ha! Should I? No, too passive/aggressive—plus the girls would be mad at me.
• I wonder what his girlfriend will get him for his birthday. Ick, is that my gag reflex acting up? Why the @#$%^&* am I wasting any time on buying him something, anyway? Oh, right, it’s from the children–plus, I vowed to take the high road whenever possible.
• Now, this shirt would look really good on S. Aww, S is so cute. I want to get him a shirt too. Wait, no, that’s weird. You can’t go to the register holding shirts for your ex-husband and your boyfriend at the same time. That’s just wrong.
• Oh, look–it’s a whole wall of men’s underwear. Someone really needs that pair with Daffy Duck on them, but I don’t know him, fortunately.
  
• Hey, this is a nice shirt for R. And so is this. And this. I’ll just get all three. Then I’m outta here.
• I should probably take a quick look in the women’s department on my way out. Nothing wrong with that, right?