It's a Prom Thing

If you are or have been the parent of a prom-going teenager (if you are the parent of a teenager, my condolences), you will understand. And I need to hear from you because I am in serious need of support right now. Is this normal?


First, my beautiful DD is not a dress-up kinda gal. She's a soccer player. Her feet are permanently not-so-beautiful from playing soccer. When she ain't playin' soccer, she ain't happy. She's pretty. She makes sure her hair is just right every day. But no makeup, no jewelry most of the time, no dresses unless absolutely necessary.


So she's going to the prom. Ok. Um, so this means...we gotta get a dress, ok? And she no likey dresses, ok? And she no likey shopping, either, ok? And she sure no likey shoppin' wit Mom, ok? Nonetheless, I was all excited because we were going to be SHOPPING FOR A PROM DRESS!!! No, I didn't let her see how excited I was. I'm a cool Mom. (Do they still say "cool?") Must never show excitement around the DD, right? Well, she went with her friends. Yeah, I cried. Well, not really tears, but I wanted to. Does that make me weird?


And she found a dress. And it was alotsa money. As in - a lot. Of money. So I go by to see it and it was gone. I thought she would be bummed out, but turns out she said she wasn't "that crazy about it." For that much money, you better be good 'n crazy about it. Like, you better wanna marry it.


So we go and find a dress. And it is beautiful. But it's like pulling teeth. Can't decide. Need shoes. Don't like heels. Gotta have shoes so we can have the dress altered. Prom is in less than 30 days. Shouldn't she be freaking out? Well, she's not. But I AM. It's interfering with my sleep for cryin' out loud, don'tcha know? And the boutonniere for her date - don't we need to order that. No, Mom, we're not doing that yet. Oh. Ok. I'm just here to write the check, I forgot, I'll go back into my hole now. I'll post a photo when it's all said and done.


Oh, and let's not forget that she hasn't gotten her driver's license yet because she just hasn't had the get up and go to do the actual driving at driving school. So now, at 17, she's finally going. She went driving with me for the first time tonight. I always said she was going to be my good driver.


Oh, Lord, what was I thinking. She did ok, but my right foot is killing me where I drove it through the floorboard trying to slow us down. And turns out we're not too sure her depth perception is all that. And I realized that if I lost the use of both my legs, I'd be ok 'cause I'd be able to walk with my butt cheeks.


But we made it home. Without having to file an insurance claim. Thank you, Lord.


I leave you now with a photo of my late little friend, Ira. He was the coolest Hermit Crab. He lived in my office at work. Now you may think Ira is a funny name for a crab. (I admit, I did call him "little buddy" a lot.) But when my daughter's friend gave him to me, he lived in a shell with a Menorah painted on it. Don't ask me, I didn't paint it. So I figured I would give him a name that was rare down here in the backwards southern part of the States, and one that in fact I associate with people from up East who don't have a lot of "r's" in their dictionary. Except when they say Ira. And drawing. (Pronounced drawering.)


Ira was so cool. Twice he escaped, fell to the floor, and traversed the entire length of my not too small office, to be found hiding almost a week later behind the lateral file cabinet. (The first time was almost a week. The 2nd time I was hip to him and I found him right away. You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to get one over on me. Twice.) He luuuved to climb. And he only ever pinched me when I found him behind the file cabinet, and he about brought blood.


I miss Ira.