Recently, two of my kids headed home to join me on a trip to
Sioux Falls, SD. My daughter Maggie left Rochester with her 17-month-old
daughter and stopped in Tracy to pick up her brother Nick, all so we could go
watch their little brother Matt’s band Some Peoples Kids open for the group Red
Jumpsuit Apparatus.
While I absolutely love the fact that my kids are so
supportive of each other, it also caused the usual chaos and mayhem I associate
with having all three of them in the same place.
This time, however, it was my wardrobe that caused the
problem.
“Don’t you have anything besides Mom clothes?” Maggie asked,
digging through my closet.
Um…. No. I guess I don’t. Maybe because I’ve been a Mom for
almost 28 years. When I answered, she didn’t like the response.
“I’m a mom, but I still have clothes that don’t scream it,”
she said. “I am so taking you shopping.”
She then proceeded to pick out an outfit for me, by trial
and error, trying to find something that made me look… younger? Skinnier? Less
mom?
Since my wardrobe basically covers work clothes and jeans
and t-shirts, that was quite a challenge. I ended up in black capris pants, a
black blouse and a pink belt I bought in a moment of silliness. I was allowed
to wear my favorite tennies, but only because they are ‘cool’ DCs that the
youngest kid talked me into buying from him when he worked at a shoe store. As
it turns out, he used that to sell them to other “old ladies,” who thought they
might be a little loud, telling them his mom had a pair.
During the process of Maggie trying to ‘cool’ me up a bit,
my son Nick just sat there rolling his eyes, then gratefully bolted for the
garage when his dad showed up.
Later, on the way to the club, Maggie asked Nick if she
looked like she was trying too hard to look like a teenager trying to look like
a grown-up.
“You look like an extra from ‘Scooby Doo,’” he replied.
I almost stomped on the brakes.
“And you let her dress me?” I yelled.
