The Dance and the Dive...

Unless one has been living under some sort of rock, it was pretty much common knowledge that the Royal Wedding of the century took place yesterday. In Thomasville, we certainly don't live underneath a rock, but that event was not nearly as important as the "local Ball" scheduled for last night; the Middle School (MS) Spring Dance.

Yep, let the Royals have their tradition and pageantry; for the MS-set, it's all about dressing nice and not being viewed as a social leper... Because Child normally goes to gymnastics on Friday nights, a proclamation was made in the kingdom of Thomasville that she would be given the night off from her 'acrobatic duties'. I mean, come on now, what 13 year-old girl wants to go to a dance smelling of her three hour workout, and wearing bits of foam from the resi pit in her hair? I rest my case... Not to mention the fact that simply getting ready for the MS Ball would probably take just as long as that three-hour practice anyway.

Because I'm an organization freak, I had Child choose her outfit the night before. There was much indecision as to whether go the dress route, or the pants route. After much consideration the pants won, and they were set aside with a coordinating shirt. Feeling pretty on top of things, I waited for Child to come to my car after school yesterday so we could return to the kingdom, and commence the process of getting ready. After saying goodbye for the next three hours to her BFFs, Child hurled her backpack, then herself, into my car:

Child : "Mommy, I changed my mind...I want to wear that dress now!"

Me: "Ummm...you are wearing the cami right now that is supposed to go underneath it. you and the cami just ran the mile... pppppuuuuuu.....How about the pants???"

Child: "______ is wearing a skirt, and I really want to. Pllleeeeasse????"

(After careful considertation and calculations of the evening's timetable, I determined that it would be possible if, and only if, Child turned it over immediately upon reaching the laundry room. While this would seem pretty easy, Child l-o-v-e-s to flit around quite a bit upon arrival in Thomasville. Time to see if we had a bargain..)

Me: "You have to give it to me right away!"

Child: "Okay!!! Thanks Mommy!!!"

Anyone remember that book, If You Give A Moose a Muffin? Well, now that the dress was going to be worn, sandals would need to be worn, as well. If sandals were to be worn, then some attention needed to be given to the unpolished toe nails. If the toe nails were going to look spiffy, then the finger nails (chipped from gymnastics grips) would also need touching-up... So much for my anal-retentive schedule:

Me: "Ooookay, the minute we walk in the door, after giving me that cami, you need to sit down for polish!"

Child: "Okay"

Anyone who knows me pretty well knows that I'm not into the whole makeup thing. I am so happy to report that I applied two coats of a most psychedlic purple polish to both finger, and toenails. For good measure, I even set the polish with a hair dryer on low heat. Just the act of this probably earned me boku "Mother's Day points."

So... after a nice shower, blowdry, hairstyling, it was time to put on the dress. Like her 'ol Mother, Child is pretty much a jeans-and-T kind of gal. Moving around in a dress adds, shall we say, a few challenges:

Child: (approaches ottoman to sit down and throws self down- per usual routine) "How do I look?"

Me: (not sure whether to laugh or cry, as time to learn dress decorum was of the essence) "Ummm... when you sit in a skirt, you need to gather it under your bottom, then sit slowly down. Also, you need to keep your knees together, or cross your legs."

Child: (a bit puzzled by that...) "Why?"

Father: (usually pretty quiet, but always ready to deliver a good gem when necessary) "You don't want the kids at the Dance to be getting a good view of your underwear, and then laughing about it at school on Monday."

Child: (ever the sassy and precocious) "Well, I'm not sitting....It's called a DANCE!"

(Husband and I just shook our heads and hoped for the best. I am happy to report that after a few dry runs in our driveway before leaving for the Ball, Child learned how to daintly get in and out of a vehicle)

Anywhoo.... we left the lovely kingdom of Thomasville, and picked up one of Child's Besties. "Bestie" was dressed a lot more casually than Child, but definitely appropriate. None of us were prepared for what the scene would be when we pulled up in front of the MS...

Apparently, there must have been some kind of meeting-of-the-minds that Bestie and Child were not privy to; every. darn. 7th. grade. girl. seemed. to. be. sporting. short. shorts. When I say short shorts, people, I am talking about ones that have an inseam of about -1 (if you want to read more of my rantings about this, check out previous blogs...). Niiiiiiiiiice... Oh well, at least our girls looked dance-appropriate. After making sure that the two teen-brain possessing girls safely crossed the street, Husband and I headed out for a quick dinner before we returned to pick up the girls. This would be where the "dive" comes in....

Because of the 90 minute window to arrive/sit/order/wait/eat/pay/leave/drive to MS, we decided that we would be best served staying close by. After mulling over some options, neither one of us was too enthusiastic. Husband then had a great brain fart- why didn't we go try Mama Mia's again?

Having grown up in the area, Mama Mia's was a local institution (you'll see the humor in this little bit of word play in a bit..stay with me...). They served "I"talian food that any corn-fed midwesterner would die for: salad drowning in dressing, garlic bread drowning in butter, and your average no-frills pizza. I had many family dinners there, starting at about the age of 5. Our little family hadn't been there in awhile, so Husband and I thought that it was worth another try.

Being the pessimist that I am, I told Husband tales of yore about how the restaurant would open at 5, and the parking lot would already be full. I warned him that if the wait was bad, we'd have to just pick up and go, as the teenage carriage turned into a pumpkin at sharply 8:30. As we pulled into the parking lot, there were a-l-o-t of empty parking spaces- on a rockin' Saturday night (sign #1). We took our pick of spots in the crumbling asphalt lot, and headed in.

When I say that a restaurant is "I"talian, what smell do you think should hit you as you enter? Red sauce? Pizza? Seafood, perhaps? Well, the first aroma that husband and I smelled was undiluted clorox bleach (sign #2). Being hungry, and short on time, we decided to overlook that little issue, and be seated. After a brief look at the menu, we decided on a salad to share, and a pizza. Now that the "hard work" of selecting the grub was completed, I was looking forward to sitting back and chatting for a bit with my man. Strangely enough, I could see my husband's mouth forming words, but the sound seemed to escape me. Was it simply that I am Middle-aged? Did I need a belltone hearing aid? Nope, not the case at all; turned out that all of my hearing problems could be attributed to "Thing 1" and "Thing 2".

Sitting immediately south of Husband and I was a booth filled with four chicks. They were pretty darn loud, at best. One of them, whom I shall affectionately refer to as "Thing 1" was quite obviously leashed to a cellphone. that. rang. constantly. Nevermind, her dining partners (or poor Husband and me), she proceeded to answer each and every call. Did I mention that the decibel level of Thing 1 on her cell phone was about equivalent to my Kitchen Aid Mixer on level 8???? This was not, however, the best part. Ever heard of a "drunk dial" (for you innocents out there, that is when an inebriated person gets on their cell and says a whole buch of dumb stuff he/she will never remember/admit to when sober)? Well, not only did Thing 1's caller appear to be drunk-dialing, she was also quite toasted, herself. So, basically, you've got a drunk moron on one end of the line who can't find his car keys(and is having a fit), and a drunk moronette on the other end of the line who is so plowed herself that she can't intellectually/emotionally deal with the situation- niiiiiiiiice, huh? I shot my best "death glare" in Thing 1's general direction; to no avail. Fun....

If Thing 1 wasn't disruptive enough, there was Thing 2 to deal with. Thing 2 was sitting at a booth with several dining partners about two booths south of Thing 1. I cannot give you any juicy details about what Thing 2 looked like as I never actually *saw* him....

Periodically, Thing 1 would stop yammering into her cell phone, and there would be a rare period of silence. As soon as Husband and I let out a collective sigh, there would be a loud, tourettish sounds coming from beyond Thing 1's booth. The first time it was audible, not only did Husband and I look around in abject horror, but a table full of senior citizens (on an evening trip out of the local assisted living) also stopped eating and looked around for the source of the disturbance. Like deer, Husband and I and the old folks sensed the danger had passed, and returned to eating the sub-par food; that is, until it happened again, and again, and again. Having not the greatest patience with fools, I was beginning to get a bit perturbed:

Me: (rolling eyes)"Is that Dude having a break with reality? Is he crazy?"

Husband: (being patient, and most perceptive) "________, he's just drunk!"

I've been in many situations over the years where people have had a bit too much, but this was just about as weird as it could possibly get. Fearing for our safety, I told Husband that we should probably get the check "pronto", in order to not be sharing the roads with Things 1 and 2. So, we paid our overpriced food bill, and hightailed it back to the MS.

When Child and Bestie emerged, they had happy tales to tell about their evening; I shared with them the "horror" story of our dinner. Bestie found it kind of funny, but not quite as funny as an expletive I shouted at a Ball particiapnt who jumped into the road in front of my vehicle...sigh...

All's well that ends well in Thomasville and beyond: Child and Bestie had a blast at their Ball, Prince William and Catherine( of whatever???) have been wed and me, well, I got more material for my blog. The End.

Oh So Lucky 13....

It's been an exciting week in Thomasville, as Child has become a teen. Such a momentous ocassion cannot possibly be celebrated once....or twice..... more like three times. So.. here is a recounting of her multiple initations to teen-hood:

ACT 1: Screamy Girl Party!!!!!

If one girl turning 13 isn't err....exciting.... enough, what about two of them???? Child's on-again-off-again bestie, by sheer dumb luck, shares the exact same B-Day. Both girls thought it would be a cool idea to have a joint party. Hmmm...all of their communal friends in one spot, at one time- check! All expenses being shared by two families,rather than just one- check! Yep, this was definitely the way to go, and a "meeting" to plan the event was set...

At the local cool coffee place, Child, Bestie, Bestie's parents, and I met to plan the details for the little soiree. We touched on the basics like food, decor, etc. When it was time to discuss entertainment, however, things got a bit weird. In addition to suggesting a rousing game of "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" (turning 13, not 3, people!!!!), Bestie's Medical degree-holding 'rents also suggested such timeless amusements as (indoor) blindman's bluff (ummmm....smashing into walls= not fun, luckily the 'rents are anesthesiologists..), and Scrabble (exercising one's brains at a party is just sooooo not cool, folks!?!) Trying to avoid having the girls being viewed as social misfits, I coyly suggested that they, instead, just bring their Wii; Mother saves the day, yet again!

One of the highlights of the Screamy Girl Party was to be a three-tiered B-Day cake, made entirely from scratch by Bestie, her Mom, and Child. Two days before the party, Child had plans to go over to Bestie's house to help decorate... Well, she did, until IT happened....

About two weeks before child turned 13, I was saying out loud (big mistake) that she was being so reasonable about everything as of late. Within days of this great proclamation, little lies about schoolwork started popping up here-and-there. The most treasured iTouch was taken away for a few days, and all was well again in the kingdom (or so I believed...). Turned out that the lesson was not learned, and like weeds in a fertile spring garden, new lies began popping-up everywhere. Child, although not quite 13 yet, had her first serious grounding. Unfortunately, one of the privileges lost was going to Bestie's house to decorate that cake...ouch!
Being the cunning one, Bestie actually approached me, and tried to get me to change my mind on that one- yeah...r-i-g-h-t!!!

Anywhoooo... by the time the eight teens arrived in Thomasville to celebrate with Child and Bestie, all of the stress of the 1st teenage grounding was only a bad memory. As loud and screamy as the girls were that evening, there was a wonderful abscence of 'teen-girl drama', and a great time was had by all- Hurrah!

Act 2: Actual B-Day

There is no greater buzz-kill in the life of a new teen than having to go to school on her actual birthday. Fortunately, a plate of choc. chip pancakes, lovingly made by Mother, can help to soften the blow a bit...

Another awesome way to make the situation better is with some. pretty. darn. good. gifts. When you're 13, darn good gifts are generally clothes....Which involves shopping for Mother, at the local teen store, no less...aaaahhhhh..

With my daughter's happiness in the forefront of my mind, I hit dEliA's. As most of you dear readers know, I can't stand shopping. So, I decided to make the process simpler by soliciting whatever help I could get from the employees there:

dEliA's Dude (DD): "Hi-yeee, how can I help you today?"

Me: (trying to find the right words to describe desired teenage look of the moment) "My daughter wants these shirts that are supposed to be see-through, and that you wear camis underneath?"

DD: "Ooohhhh... you want burnout shirts!" ( obviously more hip than a clueless middle-aged woman, DD smuggly starts moving through the store, eloquently pointing out the many, many options)

Me: (starting to sweat, looking at all of the possible options) "Thanks!"

After finding quite a few burnouts, it was off to find the elusive boatneck shirt. After hunting for awhile, I found a great one- on the mannequin. Yoo hoo, dEliA's dude.... help is needed!

Me: "I really like this shirt on the mannequin. What size is it? There are none left on the floor."

DD: (begins to look nervously at the floor) "I am not allowed to sell clothing off of the mannequin."

Me: "(Look of W-T-F????? We are in a recession, and I am standing here with $$$, that I am actually willing to spend, and you won't sell me a darn shirt??? Hell-OOOOOOO??????)"

DD: (accurately interpreting my cold stare...) "Ok, I guess I can do this. Ummm...it's an XS."

Me: "Cool!!! Strip down the mannequin, I'll take it!"

Now if dealing with me wasn't stressful enough, another Mother and her teen daughter walked in as DD was disrobing the mannequin. They looked over at the shirt, and also began lusting after it...

Other Mother: "Where do you have more of those shirts that you're taking off of the mannequin?"

DD: (looking pretty scared, as there were now two salivating Mothers within grabbing distance of both him AND the most-desired frock..) "Umm... this is the last one." (preparing to run for his life, if necessary...)

Other Mother was not too thrilled to hear this, and watched intently as the boatneck shirt was stripped from the mannequin, and placed in my hot little hand. Fearing for his safety, poor DD tried to ameliorate the "situation":

DD: "Maybe we could call another store for you?"

Other Mother: (looking at me with great annoyance) "We are from out of town, and don't have time to drive to another store"

No dice, Lady! I got there first, and. the. darn. boatneck. shirt. ripped. from. the. mannequin. was mine, mine,... MINE! I hadn't had that much fun shopping (err... messing with another person...)in..well... EVER!

So, on her B-Day morning, not only did Child l-o-v-e her most awesome shirt, she was also amused by the story that went along with it, as to how it had been 'scored' by Mother....

Act 3: Friend!

Because Child's party was of the "Screamy Girl" variety, it wasn't really a scene that Friend (refer to past blogs) would be comfortable in. So, bring on celebration #3!

Child decided that with Friend, the celebration would be bowling and Rocky's for pizza with Husband and I. Not one to be able to keep a secret, Friend texted Child that he had gotten her a gift card to one of her favorite stores for her B-Day. P-e-r-f-e-c-t..... Rocky's is located in the Mall, which also houses the clothing store.... The two of them could go to the store and cash-in the card, without ME! Woo hoo!!!!

So, after bowling a couple of games, we all headed over to the Mall. Because we arrived at 5, it was maximum-security lockdown time; aka parent supervision required... After passing through not one, but two security checkpoints with stern-faced Mall Cops, we arrived at Aeropostale:

Me: "Alright you two, have fun cashing in the gift card. Husband and I will be waiting at Barnes and Noble. Call us before you head over, and we'll meet you down stairs"

Friend: (A bit nervous. Was it because he had an inkling of how s-l-o-w-l-y Child shops, or was he afraid of being snatched-up by Mall Cops?) "Is doing this okay?"

Me: (smirking) "It'll be fine. Just don't run screaming through the store, overturning displays, and dissing the employees. Just call us if you need anything."

Friend and Child: "(Is Mother Kidding? Wait... WHAT?!?!)"



So, Husband and I headed off for some good browsing, and Child and Friend headed off to redeem the gift card. Inside, I was laughing, wondering how Friend would survive the adventure waiting for him....

About twenty minutes later, my cell phone rang, with Child having a question about her size. Five minutes later, my cell phone rang again with Child announcing that they were on their way. Holy Crumb! Whenever *I* shop with Child, *I* never get out of a store in twenty minutes... Oh well, I was happy for Friend...

When the two of them arrived, I asked to see what they got. Child had selected a style of dress that she liked, and Friend had picked the color. I was floored; they had done great, and they both were still smiling... Perhaps I can retire now from shopping in teen stores????

After enjoying pizza at two different tables (but close enough for Child and Friend to signal us in case of encroaching Mall Cops), it was back to Thomasville for B-Day cake #2, and video games. When Friend's Stepdad came to pick him up, he brought a great surprise: a B-day card for Child that was about as loud as an overtired toddler (oh, and he also brought along a real toddler, too :) ). Yep, it was a great third 13th B-day Celebration!

Rumor has it that next year, Child's 14th B-day will be on an actual Friday the 13th!!! Hmmm...better start planning that now if it's going to outshine turning 13!