So, I take an eighteen month vacation from my blog and apparently forget how hard it is to churn out new and compelling content on a daily basis. Huh. Sorry for the meager offerings this week, in fact, hold your nose while you read some of that crap. The PW post was "written" while I was nodding off with the laptop in bed. I jolted awake at 11:56 and nearly freaked that I had but 4 minutes to post the damn thing so as not to disqualify myself from NaBloPoMo.
Anywho.
Last month, I picked up the twins from high school and Annelise leapt into the car and giddily announced that she had a date for the homecoming dance. I wasn't as excited as I should have been, because this left us with one weekend to find a dress and shoes for her. Nonetheless, I grilled her for details, and asked a friend of mine to help with hair and makeup because I am worthless in the primping arena.
Before our shopping trip, Annelise looked online to see if she could find something we both liked. I was appalled at most of her choices, and began to dread the process. We set out for the Mall of America to find the perfect dress on a Saturday at lunch time. The outing started poorly because there is no recession at the Mall of America. In fact, it is bustling. No, it's busier than that. It's impossible to find a parking space after 11 AM on the weekend-no matter what time of year it is. By the time we hiked from the roof of the parking deck to the Mall entrance, I was parched. We went into Starbucks to grab some iced tea and then realized that most of the stores wouldn't let us in with our beverages. Now I was really getting irritated. We stood outside the madhouse that was Deb and I tried to contain my disgust. The place was packed with teenage girls and their moms, dresses were strewn everywhere and everything I saw was too short or too low-cut or just plain fugly. It was chaos.
The sad thing is, I wanted this to be one of those mother-daughter bonding moments. It's difficult to bond over hideous satin and tulle microdresses while trying to mask your disgust at what clothes manufacturers are selling to young girls. At one point, I texted my sister and asked her, "Where can I find a homecoming dress that doesn't look like I bought it at Hookers R Us?"
Seriously.
So we wandered over to Macy's which was only slightly less insane than Deb. I pulled five acceptable frocks off the rack and we went into the dressing room. One of the dresses was classy, understated and unique-it was the only one that didn't have ten duplicates floating around the department which leads me to believe the Homecoming Fairy left it there just for us. Annelise slid into it and declared her love for it immediately. I texted the choices to Steve and it was unanimous.
Lien performed the beautification ritual. She pretended that she wasn't mortified by our lack of bobby pins, hair spray and flat irons and came prepared with all the necessary supplies. Baby Ethan was ever so accommodating, and adorable as always. I find him to be the most scrumptious infant ever. His mama has no idea how easy he is compared to his peers.
A couple days before the dance, Annelise learned that her date was a "player" and had ditched her in favor of another girl. There was minimal to no drama with this revelation, Annelise calmly accepted this boy's decision and she met up with her friends at the dance and declared it the best night ever. If that had happened to me at 15, I would have been inconsolable, off the charts neurotic, weepy and would have seen to it that everyone else in my family suffered alongside me.
And that is how I know I'm not failing entirely as a parent.
