Prom season has always been a particularly difficult parenting time for me. It makes me long for the terrible two’s and maybe even the sleepless nights of infancy. The endless negotiations, conversations and lamentations go something like this:
“Child: Tony asked me to the prom. Should I say yes or hold out for Rick.
Me: That was nice of Tony. Who’s Rick?
Child: I asked Sarah to the prom, she said no.
Me: Who’s Sarah? I thought you were going to ask Megan.
Child: After prom can we have a party?
Me: How many people do you want to invite?
Child: You don’t invite anymore, just spread the word.
Me:But what if people don’t show up?
Child: Mom, I’m popular. Figure on 100.
Me: I’ll have to take their keys.
Child: You can’t! No one will come. Can I sleep over with Jenna after?
Me: Are Jenna’s parents going to be there?
Child: Sure, sure!
Me: I’ll need their phone number.
Child: Mom I forgot to get Beth a corsage.
Me: I didn’t.
Child: Why did you get one for her wrist. She hates pink.
Child: I hate my hair.
Child: Why did you let me cut it!
Child: This dress is so weird….”
You get the picture.
This year Sadie was invited to the prom. She’s only a sophomore. Great, I guess, but Sadie HATES dresses and HATES shopping. She wanted to wear her black dress pants and a blazer I bought her in seventh grade (Sadie has grown a foot since seventh grade and evidently several inches during the pandemic). She has school, softball, work, and AP tests. It’s too late to order online so guess who got to be the designated shopper. And if black long pants and a black blazer weren’t hard enough to find this time of year, she wanted a bustier to wear underneath to keep it feminine. I combed up and down the strip in West Leb and actually found what she was looking for. Miraculously, it fit. (I did not buy a bustier— just a tank top.)
After a flurry of Snaps, texts, pictures, and opinions she was all set. Of course, I still have a lot of rejects to return.
Two days later…
“I’m not going to Prom,” Sadie informed me.
“I won’t know many kids. I’m only a sophomore.”
“But, you were looking forward to it.”
“We broke up. I don’t want to talk about it. But, I want to keep the outfit.”
I’m pretty sure by the next time around a “Lady Tux” will not be the thing. The way these things go Prom might be back on tomorrow and besides black dress pants always come in handy.
My older daughter called me in a panic. Her eleven-year-old daughter has a middle school move-up ceremony on Friday. She has to dress up. Mayah HATES dresses and HATES shopping. She wants to wear black pants and a black blazer with a dress shirt. Guess who got to be the designated shopper?