Last night I forced–FORCED–Cheyenne to go to her first dance. Forced. Because, yes, I just am that mom.
She ended up having an "okay" time, which in Cheyenne World means she had the most excellent time a girl her age could possibly have. All her friends were going; all her friends wanted her to go–but for some reason the girl was dead-set against it. I honestly don’t know what her problem was; maybe she thought that if she showed the slightest interest in the dance, that we (okay, mainly me) would get all excited and want to do her hair and her makeup and take pictures and ask her if she had a boyfriend…but I could speculate until I’m blue in the face and still not understand the kid. So I told her to pick out some damn clothes and find out what time I needed to drop her off because BY GOD she was going to the stupid dance if it killed her. I swear, trying to get that girl to loosen up and pull her head out of her ass long enough to have a good time is like pulling teeth.
But she did it. And believe it or not, I controlled myself and didn’t ask, not even once, if I could help her get ready. I didn’t even smile…very big. I was so cool about the whole thing, whether she thinks so or not.
The last two days have been pretty good; Mia was a little disappointed waking up this morning and finding out that she wasn’t going to school today. Even Cheyenne is off to a decent start this year. Things are right with the world, at least for now.
Speaking of school, it just so happens that my 10-year high school reunion is coming up and I’m not going for obvious reasons:
- I live far, far away.
- Something about money and Caleb not having a job.
- I’d rather spend my precious Pensacola time with people I actually give a rat’s ass about.
- I just had a baby and it’s hard to travel.
- I just had a baby and my body is all kinds of funky.
- I had a baby when I was 15 to keep me busy.
- My husband probably slept with half the girls in my class at one point in time or another.
- I already keep in touch with just about everybody I need to keep in touch with.
- Myspace exists for a reason.
- I can’t arrive by spotlighted private jet and anything less is simply unacceptable.
And I wonder where Cheyenne gets it.