Prom Night

 

The day after prom and I’m at brunch with Oliver and his friend who he took to the prom. A girl who is a friend, but not a “girlfriend”.  I can’t get a word an edgewise as they tell me every little detail of the night.  The music, the hook ups, the intrigue, what illegal things were consumed. They tell me about their feelings, their dreams of the future.  I feel so in sync with their life!

Yeah, right and then I woke up in a shower like Bobby Ewing.

That’s right, that didn’t happen.

But, I did get to be part of prom weekend and I cancelled a trip in order to do so.  I am so glad I did.

The little kids and I were going to go glamping this weekend. It had been planned with other families for a while. The place is not cheap.  You are in a cabin by a fire pit, but there is a pool and they deliver food to you if you like, so hence the glam in camping.  Two weeks before Oliver told me he was going to his prom in the understated, no big deal attitude that his very him.

I returned that Perry Como vibe with my Ozzy Osborne, “what, you are?  When?  Can I take pictures?  Do you need help?  Can I get your flowers?  Do you need me to put on a chauffeur outfit and drive you around? What can I do?? Where is Sharon?”

“um, can you give me the money to by my ticket for Ida ( friend he took)?” Yes, I said signing the check with a flourish.

“I hope it’s the not the weekend I will be gone.”  He told me the date. It was the weekend I was gone.  Crap. Cut to  two a weeks of stewing about this ala The Clash.  Should I stay or should I go?  Teenagers do not place a premium on family time.  I know at his age I thought my family was revolting, and I liked them.  But, if you are a step mom who makes videos of family I’m sure I’m as desirable as a wet dog in your bed. Also, remember we are not the primary home for Oliver, his mother’s home is.  I’m what I call the “B” Team.  But, since his mom was out of town it meant he would be with us.  So desperate stepmom eager to be part of her stepson’s life really needed to make hay.

I told Vivien the trip was on the chopping block.  She pouted and crossed her arms.  Which actually pissed me off.  She knows I’m annoyed if I start a sentence with “look…” In this case, “Look, in a few short months Oliver is going off to college.  He will move away.  To a different STATE.  We will rarely see him.  He will have friends and experiences that we know nothing about ( not that I’m so in the loop now).  I want to be with him as much as I can and I think it would be really fun to see him get dressed up and go to his prom.”

Vivien, “Oliver is moving away?”  She hadn’t connected college with leave taking. “I don’t want Oliver to go.” Tears.  Oh, me and my big mouth.

Oliver kept saying, “It’s no big deal, we are going as a goof.”  Visions of my own prom night danced in my head.  When my then boyfriend Tony picked me up my parents and sister changed into nicer clothes for the occasion.  My dad even broke out his own tuxedo.  He was very proud that he owned it.  ”Do you own yours?” He asked Tony.  Tony thought it was a strange thing to ask, but hey, throw the guy a bone, he is showing his feathers, county workers don’t get a lot of opportunities to wear a tux.

Tony’s parents were out of town.  At 17 I thought that was odd.  Their last born is going to prom and they go on a trip? And that was before I was old enough to know how fleeting time is, how I would look back at the pictures of that night for years to come.  How I would regret  letting that lady at the mall talk me into that shade of lipstick.

No, I was staying.  Would Oliver care that I was present?  Probably not much, but I would care.  As a stepmom I’m a guest star, not an unconditional love player, so these moments are important.

The day of the prom I made sure he had a good lunch and continually harassed his father, who was at work, that he be home on time to take pictures.  Once Oliver started getting dressed I gave him a cold drink. “Hydrate”, not that I as encouraging drinking, but if it happened I wanted to help future headaches.

He chose a white tux on his own. Rex was zoning on TV and Viv was taking a nap so I could focus on him without distraction.  Rare.  He wasn’t sue about how to deal with cufflinks, he needed dress socks, various formal dressing aspects which I eagerly assisted. (” he needs me, he needs me!!”) I wrote another check for his part of the limo. We waited for others to arrive.  He was spending the night at a friend’s place closer to the prom.  I told him I would come get him in the am.  ”Whenever you want!”

We decided he shouldn’t put his coat on yet as he felt hot.

Then Ida, her mom and two family friends of both kids showed up.  Fortunately for me the other ladies were also eager to take pictures.  Ida, is a lovely girl and shares Oliver’s laid back attitude.

“look like you are putting the boutineer on him” One of the ladies directed.

Ida and Oliver seemed confused by our mandating the steps they should be taking. “why am I pretending to do this?” Ida asked.

Me; “because we are middle aged ladies living vicariously through you.”  She handed the wrapped flower bundle to me.  I pinned it on Oliver. Poor teenagers were getting the “let’s get away from crazy people” look.

First picture of Oliver on coolmom.

But, Mark still wasn’t back.

“um, we should go.” Oliver started.  I called Mark again.  ”Where are you? You are going to miss it”

A few minutes later he came running in.  I took a couple of pictures and then Oliver finally put his foot down.  ”We have to go.”

What I can’t take a clay impression of how you look right now at this moment? Ok, fickle teen have your way.

Mark drove them to the house where they were meeting friends and limo.

Vivien asked “Why isn’t Oliver driving?”

Me “He is going to go in a limo with his friends.”

Viv “Why?  He can drive.”

Me ” Well, the assumption is that alcohol might be consumed.”

Viv nodded.  Not bringing up the underage issue.  Should I have b.s’d that answer?

The next day Mark took Viv on a special daddy daughter hike.

I took Rex to ride the rails. We have a new light rail in LA and the first weekend was free.

As Rex and I rode the East bound train Oliver texted, “we are ready to be picked up.” Rex and I got off and then boarded the Eastbound train back to our car.  ”Getting in the car.” I texted back.

By the time I picked the prom goers up Rex had fallen asleep.  ”Anyone hungry?  I’ll take you guys to brunch.”  Rex rallied for pancakes and we had a nice time.

“So, how was it?”

“fun” they nodded.

“Was there a band?”

“no, DJ.”

That was it. Then I was on to extract new information.   Summer plans, college.  I can ask questions to monosyllabic answers all day.

I was so happy.

 

Spying on a Teen

Every once in a while, I like a reminder that I am not a certifible loon. Yesterday, as I was working on my computer, I kept hearing this pinging noise coming from it. I finally minimized the window I was working in to see that I was getting instant messages. But they weren’t for me – they were for my stepson. I answered one with “Are you looking for Oliver?” It was a gal friend of his who I know, so I told her he was at his mom’s.

IM/Red Abstraction No. 2
Creative Commons License photo credit: Kris Cohen

The pings kept coming. I saw in the iChat menu that he had 10 friends wanting to talk – four boys and six girls. I won’t say I wasn’t curious. Since he’s a typical 9th grade boy and shares next to nothing about his life, the idea of one of those awful psycho moms who pretends to be the kid in order to get info flashed through my head. The thought passed quickly as I “quit” iChat (yeah, it took me a while to figure that out) and emailed Oliver that folks were wanting to gab.

I told him I had thought better of playing mom-spy. “Ha ha,” he wrote. “I know moms like that. They are weird.”

That was the nicest thing he’s ever said to me! I’m not weird! At least, that’s how I am deciding to take it.

Blended Family

Hey stepparents! Some of you have mentioned that you’d like me to address our delicate family position a bit more. Well, here’s something to gnaw on.

This is how one aspect of the blended family affects our own children. It is important also to note how Vivien is improving my new haircut.

Firsts

This cracked me up from, “The Poop (great name),” about the writers first car. You never forget your first right? My first car was a 1976, Datsun 710. It not only had no AC, it had no heat, and no door handles. So, after a while the cranks to roll down the window also broke off. Nonetheless I was popular among my high school friends, because at least I had a car. Even if it meant we had to pick up the broken handles off the floor and stick them on the door to roll down the windows.

I just had another first. My stepson wrote me an email from his trip. He had seen a clip of me on “The Daily Show,” I was part of a montage about “cougars.” I had been commenting on it on “Showbiz Tonight,” on “CNN Headline News.” Even though for other reasons it has been a trying day, I was immediately perked up. It felt like I was in high school and a boy who I thought didn’t know I existed, suddenly pays attention to me. Especially cool if the boy looks like a Jonas brother. I felt like Sally Field accepting her Oscar in 1985, “You like me, you really like me!

If kids only knew the power they yield.

I Missed My Stepson

Yes, the one who looks just like Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers, and Sunday he came back for 24 hours. This is the month where he is taking many groovy trips, so Sunday was our only day with him. He had been gone a week before I realized I missed him. A friend’s mom said, “You miss a 14-year-old?”  Well, yeah, he may not always be Chatty Cathy, but he is no drama and we feel like more of a family when he is here. I do love him, even if I can’t be as demonstrative with him as I would my daughter.

Nick Jonas

When he walked through the front door, I wished I had had my camera ready. Vivien gave his legs a big bear hug, her head barely rising above his knees. My husband mentioned that Oliver hadn’t seen her new play equipment, so Vivien and Oliver walked out toward the back hand-in-hand and it was a microcosm of male/ female relationships.

Vivien: “Oliver, do you like my new dress?”

Oliver: “Huh, what?”

Vivien: “Oliver, do you like my new dress?”

Oliver: “Oh, yeah.”

He is always more interactive and involved with her if I back off. Funny how me rushing in the room saying, “Please love each other!!!” doesn’t seem to foster closeness the way hiding in the kitchen does. I keep one ear or eye out to take in the charm of their teasing and cuddling. I want to join in, but I know if I do, I clamp him down. I think she is so lucky to have a big brother, so I stay back. Maybe that’s what all parents have to do, not just step parents.

[Image: Kevin Winter, Getty Images]

Children’s Chores

It threw me when I was getting to know my then-future husband and his then-10-year-old son that very little chores were required of the lad. Frankly, I was vaguely appalled, but I certainly wasn’t going to risk being an evil future stepmother by setting up a work-flow chart on the fridge.

Clean Dishes
Creative Commons License photo credit: noricum

A good guy friend of mine told me that when he turned 15, his mom cut him off from laundry services and told him to do it himself from now on. So I suggested at least this compromise to Mark. He said Oliver would figure it out when he is on his own, as an adult. Hmm, yeah, well, not my horse, not my ranch. But I made it clear I’m not cleaning up after someone old enough to do it themselves. Mark didn’t believe me when I said I was doing my laundry at five years old.

I think chores are not only considerate to others in the house, but key to creating a child who is not spoiled and has a good work ethic. This page has guidelines about children’s chores. One of them speaks of giving a child a reward. Uh, I don’t think so. Did John Boy get a reward? Or did he just help his Mama when she asked?

Step Mommies

From time to time, it’s good to hear from a mother wiser than myself – my mom!

My mom, Morency, not only raised three girls but has run her own small private school for close to 30 years. She deals with kids who would otherwise fall through the cracks, so I think she has a lot of insight.  Since I am a step mom, I wanted to ask her about the step parents she has known through the years.

Anyone who has had that job knows it can be a little dicey to navigate. And I am lucky. I never had the ABC Afterschool Special moment I thought I would have, a step child running down the hall, screaming, “Leave me alone, you aren’t my mother!” as they slam the door to their room.