When Owls Took Over Our House (and My Soul)
Let me tell you a story. Not a fairy tale, not some sweet, sentimental saga—no, this is a story of obsession, clutter, and emotional trauma disguised as woodland decor. A story about owls.
My mom—bless her feather-loving heart—had a Thing with owls. And by "thing," I mean a borderline hoarding situation fueled by decades of owl-themed gifts. Friends, coworkers, that one weird neighbor—they all heard she liked owls once and then proceeded to gift her Every. Single. Owl. Ever. Made. Owl mugs. Owl throw pillows. Owl wind chimes. We had owl soap. OWL. SOAP.
It started cute. It ended with our house looking like a scene from a low-budget horror film called Hootageddon: Rise of the Night Birds.
Eventually, she snapped. One day she looked around and said, “I can’t live like this anymore.” Just like that, hundreds of owls were exiled to donation boxes. I swear Goodwill had to open a dedicated wing. It was a purge of feathery proportions.
But here’s where the irony hits: I made an enamel pin to honor her owl era.
Yep. I took all that trauma and crafted it into a 1.25-inch soft enamel tribute to my mother’s descent into and resurrection from owl madness. The very thing she tried to escape? I turned it into wearable art. Because therapy is expensive, but irony is free.
Let’s Talk About the Pin
This little guy is sleek, shiny, and has glow-in-the-dark eyes that scream “I’ve seen things.” It’s the perfect mix of snark and nostalgia. It’s for people who know that sometimes your aesthetic becomes your prison. But, you know, cute.
It’s made with high-quality enamel, so it won’t chip or fade even when you wear it while cleaning out your own emotionally charged owl collection. The backing is strong. Stronger than my mom’s willpower during her peak owl years.
Owls: Actually Kinda Awesome
Fine, I’ll admit it. Owls are pretty cool. They’re like the introverts of the bird world—silent, observant, definitely judging you.
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They eat mice and rats. Which is hilarious, because my mom is terrified of rodents. Full body shudders. So of course she worshipped a creature that snacks on her worst nightmare.
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They can rotate their heads like they’re auditioning for a horror movie. Up to 270 degrees, no chiropractor required.
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They fly silently. Which is great for hunting, and also for sneakily judging you.
You don’t have to have an owl-hoarding parent to appreciate this pin. Maybe you’ve been gifted one too many llama trinkets. Maybe you just like birds that look permanently unimpressed. Maybe you’re into ironic accessories that double as conversation starters.
Whatever your deal is, this pin is for you.
And if nothing else, do it for the owls. Or the mice they devour. Or my mother, who finally lives in a non-owl-infested house, but now has a daughter selling owl pins on the internet.
So go ahead. Order the pin. Honor the hoard. Help a bird.
I promise, it’s less traumatic than a shelf full of owl figurines.
P.S.
Don’t wait. This pin might not last forever, but my awkward childhood memories? Those are forever.