The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Q & A
Prom season is here.
Our house is abuzz with questions as my daughter revs up for the occasion with constant phone calls to her friends:
“What are you wearing?”
“Did you hear that he broke up with her right before prom?”
“Who’s going in the limo?”
“When should we get our mani-pedicures?”
My daughter even includes me in the vital discussions:
“How much will you pay for a dress?”
“Why would a guy wear a flower in his jacket?”
“How come you never raised me to know about corsages and that thingy the guy wears in his lapel?”
Rebuked for parental insufficiency, I lash back with a few of my own questions:
“Is this a date date, or are you two just friends?” And, “What will you do if somebody pulls out a flask of alcohol?”
It turns out that the answer to both my inquiries is the same: Eye rolling, accompanied by a heavy sigh.
Then comes the real question: “Will you be mad at me if we go in a stretch Hummer?”
My husband replies, “I wouldn’t be angry. I’d just be really disappointed.”
To children of a certain persuasion, this is far worse than a show of temper.
As usual, I like to be the more helpful parent, so I say, “Not if you slash the tires at the end of the evening.”
I’m about to ask if it would be OK if we pelt them with rotten eggs and tomatoes as they drive by when I remember my own prom career.
As juniors, my friends and I held an anti-prom, our envy masked by the height of anti-convention cool. As seniors, our fear of being left out trumped cool, and we donned organdy and dyed silk shoes along with our ironic detachment.
My daughter is less encumbered by irony, but she has an environmental conscience. She tells us how she’s trying to dissuade her friends from the Hummer, but it’s not just up to her. They’re teasing her about how she and her tuxedoed friend will arrive all sweaty after a three-hour bike ride. It’s all in good humor, but I see how conflicted she feels.
“Carbon offsets!” I suggest enthusiastically.
Isn’t that the answer to everything?
By Lorrie Goldin
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Our house is abuzz with questions as my daughter revs up for the occasion with constant phone calls to her friends:
“What are you wearing?”
“Did you hear that he broke up with her right before prom?”
“Who’s going in the limo?”
“When should we get our mani-pedicures?”
My daughter even includes me in the vital discussions:
“How much will you pay for a dress?”
“Why would a guy wear a flower in his jacket?”
“How come you never raised me to know about corsages and that thingy the guy wears in his lapel?”
Rebuked for parental insufficiency, I lash back with a few of my own questions:
“Is this a date date, or are you two just friends?” And, “What will you do if somebody pulls out a flask of alcohol?”
It turns out that the answer to both my inquiries is the same: Eye rolling, accompanied by a heavy sigh.
Then comes the real question: “Will you be mad at me if we go in a stretch Hummer?”
My husband replies, “I wouldn’t be angry. I’d just be really disappointed.”
To children of a certain persuasion, this is far worse than a show of temper.
As usual, I like to be the more helpful parent, so I say, “Not if you slash the tires at the end of the evening.”
I’m about to ask if it would be OK if we pelt them with rotten eggs and tomatoes as they drive by when I remember my own prom career.
As juniors, my friends and I held an anti-prom, our envy masked by the height of anti-convention cool. As seniors, our fear of being left out trumped cool, and we donned organdy and dyed silk shoes along with our ironic detachment.
My daughter is less encumbered by irony, but she has an environmental conscience. She tells us how she’s trying to dissuade her friends from the Hummer, but it’s not just up to her. They’re teasing her about how she and her tuxedoed friend will arrive all sweaty after a three-hour bike ride. It’s all in good humor, but I see how conflicted she feels.
“Carbon offsets!” I suggest enthusiastically.
Isn’t that the answer to everything?
By Lorrie Goldin
Labels: Lorrie Goldin
Stumble This Post
