A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 10, 2003 || 11:34 pm

“Momma,” Scout says to me yesterday around noon, “Could you dress like a mommy for my party tonight?”

Yes, brothers and sisters, ‘mommy’ is a costume we put on. Kiss the chef; bring on the beer and sausages. There’s a birthday party a-brewin’ and I have not one pair of Keds to my name.

Bemused, and although I was wearing sunglasses at the time and couldn’t verify in the rear-view mirror, I’m sure my eyes were twinkling.

Outside of work regalia, my personal style swings from laid-back rebellious to (eep) Sporty Spice and sometimes shakes hands with both. I can dress up and enjoy it…I have mad skills in the ‘taste’ and ‘refinement’ areas; I just don’t have much call or opportunity to exercise them.

“Wellll,” I told her, “I think that will require a quick shopping trip.”

Never one to shy away from the sound that the plastic facilitator of pay-you-back-later-I-promise fundage makes when being whipped from the comfort of my wallet, Scout suggested that we go to the NamelessLittleBoutique that she and I enjoy. I made all the requisite turns to get us there.

Diving into the racks, showing various pieces to one another, is fun. She is at the age where I can trust her judgement as the junior fashionista. She crossed that threshold when, last year as we were cleaning out her old junk to make way for newer junk, she pulled out the plastic two-inch Barney dangling from a rainbow-colored cord and said, “I can’t believe I ever wore this thing. It’s so uuuugly.” It rekindled the hope in me, brothers and sisters, that I would not have to dress her until she was forty-eight.

I’m loaded for bear, an armload of things causing a cramp in my bicep, when she coos, “Ooooh, momma, I like this….” I see that she is fondling a terry-cloth getup, two pieces consisting of a hooded top with cap sleeves and (Gawdheppme) capri pants. It is pink, trimmed in black.


Yes. Pink.

“Scout,” I say somberly, “That thing is pink.”

“I know, momma.” Those big blue eyes. Earnest. Wicked.

Maybe she dint hear me. “Pink, Scouty. It’s pink.”

“I know. I liiiiike it.”

“Scout, do you realize it’s pink?” (she nods) “Do you realize I’m your mother?” (she smiles and nods) “Do you realize I don’t wear pink? Ever?”

“Well, here’s what,” she says with Extreme Logic, which is one of the sports she is best at, “I like it. You could pretend it’s orange.”

Well yes I could. I couldn’t argue with that sort of bullet-proof thinking. I could pretend it was orange. There was nothing blocking the ole pretender today. I looked away, pained, and shot my hand out toward her in a ‘gimme’ gesture. It joined the pile of clothes across my forearm, which the salesgirl magically removed to a fitting room shortly thereafter. Scout grinned wide and wonderful.

Some forty-five minutes later found us in the car once again, bag of purchases stowed safely in the trunk, headed for the party store and such. There was a creamy lemon chiffon-hued pantsuit and mint-peach-ivory plaid capris with linen top and a black squeezy dress-thing to nestle in my closet. It was then that something occurred to me.

“Hey Scout….does it bother you when your teachers and friends mistake me for your big sister?”


“I guess what I’m asking is, does it make you uncomfortable? Would you rather people think I was your mommy and never your sister or would you rather people think I was your sister and never your mommy?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, momma. I never even thought twice about it, to tell you the truth.” Whew, relief. I was afraid we were about to become one of those ‘I-wish-my-mom-were-my-mom’ Ricki Lake episodes.

She pushed her sunglasses off her eyes and to the top of her head, framing her blowing hair, and squinted at me.

“I just thought you might like to have something new; you never buy anything for yourself, really. Everyone needs new things sometimes.”

That sly little girlchile. She goosed me (in a good way) and I responded in kind.

I wore the pantsuit with strappy shoes and my hair trailing down my back. “You look pretty, mom,” was what Sam said when I emerged, freshly-pressed and smelling nice, from my bedroom this afternoon. This from the kid who still thinks Girls Have Cooties. Happy Mothers’ Day to me.

8 worked it out »

  1. cal 5.11.2003

    happy day is right. you deserve one!

  2. April Love 5.11.2003

    Good times! Did I miss Miss Scoutie’s birthday gala????

    Happy Mother’s Day.

  3. mothers day is undoubtedly the best made up crockoshit ever. yeehaw

  4. KC 5.11.2003

    Well, i am dripping with sap after reading that one. If all kids were that cool, i’d have three by now.

  5. The Fancy Llama 5.11.2003

    I especially enjoyed today’s post deary. Happy Mothers Day indeed, you hip mom, you.

  6. mikeyphillips 5.11.2003

    thanks for the comments from previous – how’d you see it? let that site be as secret as possible, it’s still a surprise…

    best wishes

  7. Steph 5.12.2003

    What a great story! I hope when I have kids that people will mistake me for their older sister.

    I hope you had a fabulous Mother’s Day. :-)

  8. Jett 5.12.2003

    thank you, one and all.

    apey: who you kiddin’? you allus miss it, miss pressingsocialengagements….

    bartlett: i find your cheerful cynicism endearing and touching.

    KC: who you? welcome to Superior Industries! may you never catch anything here that penicillin won’t kill. and, for the record, good kids are made, not born. having said that, I can tell you that Scout and Sam both acted like complete turds upon returning from their father’s house yesterday, so I sent them to bed early and drank lots of wine, wishing myself well for now and fore’er.

    steph: it all makes me nervous. one day, somewhere in my forties, it will all come crashing down and people will mistake me for their grandmere, I just KNOW it.

    mikey: I had planned on it….it’s a lovely gesture and I felt a little invasive reading, but I can’t help but to keep going back and back again. (caught wind of it off the blogger homepage…the ‘recently updated’ list…) the simple and direct passion with which you decorate the page is heartening in a yucky world. I hope it’s always magic for you….


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