Archive for the ‘Kiddo’ Category

Okay, y’all.

So I thought last year’s prom was weird? I had no idea.

I was told (again) only 2 days before Prom that it was coming up. And (again) I went into “OMG, are you KIDDING me with this last minute stuff?!” mode, and (again) she looked at me like I was nuts.

Me: Whaddya mean it’s no big deal?
Her:Just what I said. God mom, chill.
Me:Where are we gonna get everything in a day and a half?! A dress? Shoes? Alison, this is ridiculous! (deep breath) Okay, okay.
Her:
Me: Alright, at least tell me what the theme is?
Her: Crawfish boil.
Me, post long-pause: Your prom theme is “crawfish boil?”
Her: No. Prom IS a crawfish boil. And it’s casual dress.

So here’s Alison’s classy classy prom photo- she wouldn’t stand still, but it’s what I got.

She wore shorts.

My mother is laughing her ass off at me in heaven, you know- I skipped prom altogether as being too bourgeois or whatever. So karma again bites me in the ass.

Ah well. It’s the only thing she’s done in years that’s saved me money.

Okay, Alison’s 17. I’m assuming she’s still fairly innocent, but whatever. Let’s not examine that one too closely.

At this advanced age, she’s going through a nostalgic phase- I suppose it has to do with graduation being ever closer. She keeps talking about “her childhood,” while I try to hide the obvious- that I still consider her to be inside that childhood, while she believes she’s waaaaay beyond it.

This evening brought hand slappy games of the sort that little girls give up around 5th grade (apropos of nothing, “Hot Hands” has its own wiki page. Weird.), and waxing on about “when I was a kid.”

That led on to this Disney movie, Teen Witch, which I sort of remember, but not really. I’ve blocked a lot of really awful movies that she used to love. It was purely defensive, not even conscious, but if I’d actually let things like the Spice Girls’ movie into my brain, it would’ve exploded.

So, too, this gem. “Teen Witch” was made in 1989 (which I’m sure you’ve already figured out, based on the hair), and Ali says she hasn’t seen it in years, but damn if she didn’t know all the songs. When I found this for her on YouTube she shrieked- so did I, but for a different reason:

And, of course, when she begged, I ordered the damn thing on Amazon. I figured she’s not the only one with not a lot of high school time left in which to be nostalgic.

:::sigh:::

Alison’s off in DC attending the Presidential Classroom, her chosen topic being Global Heath & Environment. In one week she’ll have met many more official honchos than I have in my life.

And she’ll handle it just fine- that’s not my concern. She was even elected Executive Director of her class, and will have to be the point person in the presentation/debate at the end of the week before members of the CDC, EPA & WHO. She’s not sweating it.

My worry here is that I received a form asking who our rep was so they could arrange a breakfast with him. Mary Landrieu popped into my mind, but of course it wasn’t rep but Rep they meant. House, not Senate.

That means my daughter is having breakfast with Dollar Bill Jefferson. Ol’ refrigerator man himself, who she’s studied both in school and by hearing me and mine bitch endlessly about his entire family.

And this is a child whose idea of being subtle is starting a critique with “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

Well, who knows. Maybe she’ll wrangle that “reasonable explanation” he’s been promising us for years now.

Alison spent yesterday making me feel old. Not intentionally- not really- just by being a teen.

We had scheduled a tour of LSU in Baton Rouge- the start of her college search. And I kept wondering how the hell it was possible we had reached this point. How on earth can she be this old? (and the corollary, of course…how can I be this old? I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up!)

In the hour and a half trip up we talked about whether or not she would be going to NYC this summer, and who she might visit with.

“Oh!” she said, “I forgot to tell you that Travis was on TRL- he was the only one from Coheed there. Isn’t that great?!”

Umm…yeah, sounds really fab…uh…TLR? Oh, TRL, of course. Duh. Great!

I quietly looked it up when we got home and discovered it’s an insanely popular music show on MTV. So yay Travis, boo uninformed mom.

Ah well. If I tried to keep up with everything the kid watches my head would explode in an attempt at self-defense. Maybe I’ll actually feel younger when she goes off to college…then there’ll be no one there to burst my bubble; I’ll be able to delude myself that the stuff I listen to is actually current. I can blissfully ignore all evidence to the contrary and wrap myself in the cuddly blanket of reality rejection, listen to some bad hair metal and go fetal.

Until Alison’s semester is over, of course.

Yesterday I opened my cabinet and realized Old Mother Hubbard had nothing on me. I haven’t been shopping in weeks, and it was long past due. Alison was rounded up and she gleefully got in the car, ready to spend my money.

Halfway to the grocery store I told her that although I know we’re out of everything I wanted this to be quick. “You’re crazy!” she shouted, exasperated. “How can you know we need everything and STILL not want to go shopping?!”

She’s right, of course. I hate shopping, and unless it’s in a book store or Best Buy, I have no patience whatsoever. “Efficient, then,” I pleaded. “How about we shoot for efficient?”

Immediately upon arrival, the tug of war began. The “I wants” versus “You can haves.” It is a long, drawn out, bloody battle, fought on an aisle by aisle, shelf by shelf basis.

As we were hauling our loaded cart out to the car, Alison snickered and said in an I-have-vanquished-the-enemy tone, “You just gave up around aisle 5, mom.”

And it’s true. I traded arguing over individual items for just getting it over with. I became totally uninterested in debating the virtues of organics, calorie counts, brand loyalty. She’d hold up an item, starting a speech about why she needed the thing, why she needed it, how good it was for her… I would just wave a defeated hand at the cart, mumbling, “whatever, let’s just get out of here,” and staggered along with the cart.

Now there’s a full freezer, and empty wallet, and a totally drained mom.

Mother’s Day was tough- trying to balance being happy about the whole Mom-thing vs. being worried about Nora.

But I awoke to many balloons Alison had heliumized and let loose in my room. She’d written notes on each one, and mysteriously told me it was going to be a “theme” day.

She insisted we drive out to Michaels craft store to get some stuff but wouldn’t tell me what it was for- wouldn’t even allow me to see some of the items, just kept giggling and telling me to wait and see.

That afternoon, after tending to Nora, I found Alison working away- filling balloons(theme!) with a paint/water/helium mixture and stapling them to a canvas.

Once they were all lined up…

She took out the darts. Darts! She’s always been a fan of abstract art, and this masterpiece certainly qualifies.

And it’s alllll Alison. Personality, colors, idea. I love it!

I’m always amazed at the ways that growing up in the 80s continues to affect me.

I had a very different idea of what “prom” was, even though I blew my own off. Growing up in the era of John Hughes movies it always seemed like PROM, not prom.

Apparently, at McGehee, it’s clearly more of the latter. After much running around, Alison chose a not-exactly-prom-dressy prom dress, and flats. Flats! It’s hard for me to wrap my head around, since it wasn’t so long ago that the higher the heels, the more she adored the shoes. She’s a quick learner.

(Kindly please ignore the office mess around her…click for bigger version)

But we did have some John Hughes-style drama when her date canceled around 11am. She was upset, but not crazed- apparently, again, prom. It seems that at this girl’s school, the boys are more of an afterthought.

The whole prom seemed like an afterthought- they forgot about the Queen’s tiara and bought a $5 Hello Kitty toy crown…but that one Alison couldn’t stand for, especially since she’s friends with the (correctly) presumed Queen. A proper tiara and scepter set was obtained from our inventory, and eventually much oohed and ahhed over.

But in the end, prom was supposed to run until 10:30… by 10 everyone had gone and they were just cleaning up…and there wasn’t much to clean up. It was all pretty low key- I saw no limos, no over-the-top dresses, nothing to say this was a big deal at all.

I haven’t decided if I think this is a good thing or not. Taken on its own, it probably is, but I can’t help but think that overall, “Pretty in Pink” was a better message than “Gossip Girl.”

One of the reasons we’ve been busy is company coming and going. My ex was here with his wife Stacy and their 1 year old, Alexis, all to see Alison get her class ring. It was the first time Stacy had been here, and they stayed in the Quarter, and unfortunately I didn’t have much time to play tour guide, but hopefully next time I’ll be able to show them around more and possibly even convince them I’m not totally insane to live here.

Lexi was really well behaved, and curious about everything.

Not nearly as curious as Bruiser was about all the food she left around, but still…here’s Ali with her little sister while the puppy steals her Cheerios.

I swear, this child has only two speeds: dead stop and molasses.

She is going to visit her friend at college for spring break and take a few tours. As her mother I am not 100% thrilled about this. I understand it’s something I’m going to have to get used to. I keep reminding myself that she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and I’m just going to have to assume she’ll look before she leaps. Or drinks. Or…anything else I don’t really want to think about.

None of which is the point. The point is that the only flight she could get at the last minute that wasn’t a bazillion dollars left at 6:30 this morning. That meant getting up at 4, with the stern, repeated instruction that we absolutely, positively had to be out the door at 5. Bags were to be ready the night before, showers taken before bed.

Every reminder was met with rolled eyes and a “I know,mom” indicating her complete annoyance that I would even bother to bring up a point already so thoroughly and laborously covered.

So I don’t have to even say that she wasn’t ready, do I? I don’t have to illustrate how there was a lot of ‘chicken with its head cut off’ type chaos this morning, right?

Finally, FINALLY,we’re in the car, and I’m ranting like a loon, and she says to me- because obviously she doesn’t value her life- “You know, I really don’t need this right now.”

Uh…excuse me? Because I’m not the one going on vacation here, I’m only the idiot paying and chauffeuring…

“I don’t know what you want from me- I was up at 3am!”

“I thought you were packed last night!” rant I.

“I was!” she yells, indignant.

So what, oh what could she have been doing all that time? No idea. It never fails that when I tell her she needs to hurry, she nods and then moves at exactly the same pace she was before, then insists that she was moving as fast as possible.

I’d really like a cattle prod. Turned on low, of course- I wouldn’t want to fry her or anything, but just a little shot to the rear end now and again.

So naturally, after she made it on the plane by the skin of her teeth, after an hour waiting in security, after I really would have gleefully applied said electric encouragement to her nether regions, she went through the gate and didn’t even look back.

:::sigh:::

My kid’s off to college. True, it’s only a trial run, but still.

I haven’t had a kid kid at Mardi Gras in years- Alison’s worked the entirety of Carnival the last two years, so I haven’t seen her at all, even though she hardly qualifies as a kid anymore.

But the girls were excited to find out that we have a Costume Box- I think it’s mandatory that if you live in New Orleans, you have a place where all the odds and ends go so that the next time you have go make something out of nothing (you’d be surprised how often that is), you’ve got a base to start with.

Marisa glommed onto this hat- and it is quite the hat- and wore it to the parades. Alison stole it back briefly, and I sighed wistfully, thinking of when she wore it to try and catch the float riders’ eye and snag the best beads.

I had to look for evidence, and there it was.

2005:

2008: