...of a teenager!
Yesterday was our daughter's 8th grade senior prom. Yes, I know, they didn't have 8th grade proms back in my day, either. Anyway, with her mother suffering from a horrible case of the flu (no, not the swine flu) and an upper respiratory infection, my poor girl did not get the attention the day deserved. We brought her to the salon for an updo, which, after $75 and an hour and a half, she decided she did not like. Nor did she like the mani-pedi. The phone conversation went something like this:
Daughter: momwhenareyoucominghomeidon'tlikemyhair
OMGihavetogetdressedOMGJaneandNickaren'tspeaking
there'sgonnabedramatonite!
Me: What?
Daughter: Aren'tyoulistening?Isaid...
Me: Wait! Please stop. I'm at the doctor, I'll be home as soon as I can.
Daughter: Hurry! Ineedhelp!OMG!
Me (to the doctor): Do you have a pill for teenageritis?
MD: Hahaha! I wish, I'd be rich.
The prom, however, went off without a hitch, with a minimum of drama, wardrobe malfunctions and arguments. My daughter and her friends (most of which she's known since kindergarden) looked so grown up and excited. Their parents and I only cried a little bit. Really, just a little.
I've Moved!
13 years ago
No comments:
Post a Comment