Thursday, March 28, 2013

Men are not from malls

Say what you want about cliches and stereotypes about boys vs. girls. In my life I have found 98.72% of them to be true.

I took the kids to the mall last weekend to knock out a few errands before more snow came to ruin spring for me.

Three girls and one boy and a mom.

Knowing the pre-teen boy would have the least amount of patience for the trip, I decided to start with the worst stop of all:  bra-shopping for the teenage girls.

For 30 nearly life-ending minutes my poor son sat in the Macy's Intimate Apparel waiting area with his little sister while the big sisters were measured and fitted for new bras.

He didn't even have his iTouch. Life sucked for that boy.

But I did feed him pizza for lunch.

Refueled, we moved on to Forever XXI (or XXI Forever? or Forever 38, as my sister calls it?), where the teenagers looked for something to wear to church that wouldn't double as a clubbing outfit.

Luke planted himself in a chair by the fitting room, commiserating with a random dad about how long it takes teenage girls to try on clothes. The dad, clearly a beaten-down shell of a man, agreed.

We left with a small bag full of dresses closer to the knee than the butt and a promise that Luke would be able to get some new pants for school at our next stop.

Unfortunately for Luke, the next stop had no khaki pants in his size.

But they did have an abundance of dresses for Caroline, all of which she tried on while Luke tried to run away.

"I'm going out into the mall," he announced.

Assuming, as all moms do, that every crowded building is filled to the brim with pedophiles, I threatened him within an inch of his life to not leave the fitting room entrance at JC Penney's.

After nearly three hours at that mall, we finally snaked our way to the exit, walking past a children's shoe department where Luke - who really sees no purpose in coordinating his outfits or cutting his nails regularly but has, inexplicably, suddenly developed an interest in styling his hair and owning a pair of Sperry Top Siders - stopped.

"Can I look here for a pair of shoes?" my soon-to-be-a-ladies-man child said.

Within 90 seconds, Luke had the pair he needed at a price I liked and we were on our way to the car.

"I told you girls take too long," he lamented all the way back to Lawrence.

"I know," I agreed with a smirk from the driver's seat while he re-laced his new shoes in back.

His sisters will, if nothing else, have him well-prepared for when he starts dating.

Monday, March 18, 2013

The One Where I Write Again

Have you lost weight? New hairdo? Whatever it is, you look great.

So maybe it's been a while. And it probably would be even longer had I not received a nice kick in the rear to put words onto the Internet again from Laura and Erin at Listen To Your Mother.

More on that in a bit. Let's catch up first, mmmkay?

When we last left off, I was sun-drenched and salt-washed after a week in North Carolina.

Since then...

I'm happy to report that so far:  none of our kids have dropped out of school, I now own two pairs of reading glasses and am fine with that because Dave Grohl wears them too, I don't miss writing a weekly column like I feared I might, "Mother%$!#Hood" has sold over 200 tickets so far, Amelia (unlike Ellie) has not backed into anything yet, pantry is done and rocks, I still have a Pinterest page and only spend 10 minutes each week on it, none of the pictures from Naked Beach have surfaced, I did not sympathy vomit with the puker and...

Listen To Your Mother goes up May 11th at Unity Temple on the Plaza.

Welcome to my oft-neglected blog. I hope to see you again soon. And by that I mean I hope I sit my a$$ down and write again before fall.

Rock Chalk!