I know I should have been wondering whether this was a good idea. I mean he would soon be of legal drinking age, but should a mother go out bar hopping with her son? I was just so thunderstruck and flattered that he’d ask me, that I didn’t think of the possibilities, or of the repercussions.
For as long as I could remember, boys had never been my forte, and to me Jack, the ultimate boy, was tantamount to a Greek God.
I had always been a nerd, not physically mind you, but definitely mentally. And over the years my interests were always on school, then later my career and ultimately money, and I have to admit that when I was younger I was clueless about the things that the general public found so essential, like looks and popularity.
My mother, Jack’s grandmother, was eternally frustrated by my disinterest in all things social. My hair was my hair, my clothes were my clothes. And boys? Well they were definitely some alien race put on this Earth to make me dizzy.
“Why don’t you get you hair done like so-and-so,” my mother would wail at me, or, “You would look so pretty in this.” But I didn’t care, and I didn’t care that my mother did. In fact I wore my hair the same way for decades until just recently when Jack, of all people, dragged me to the shop where he got his hair cut.
At first I considered getting a new hairstyle just a waste of time, but after it was done I had to admit that I looked amazing. And my daughter, Jack’s older sister, showed me how to keep it looking that way.
He was full of surprises this boy of mine.
This new me took some getting used to since I now looked like a completely different woman, a more stylish and beautiful woman. I got so many compliments about it.
And apparently with my new hairstyle (and I get this from so many people) especially older people, that I look a little like Lea Thompson. You know the actress who played Michael J. Fox’s mother in “Back to the Future.” She was also on dancing with the stars. I myself don’t see it, I’m not nearly as pretty as her, but google her if you want to see what other people think I look like.
That weekend I dragged Jack out of bed and made him come shopping with me. It was after noon when, after a lot of urging on my part, he finally got up. I’m sorry, but I wanted to get it done, and so he grudgingly got dressed and accompanied me to the mall.
But soon, as he went from store to store, he kind of got into it. I made sure to leave him alone so he could roam free. I knew he hated when I hovered over him showing him clothes that I thought he would look good in.
When we had visited about three stores, and gotten a number of things that I could wrap for him, he stopped to look in the window of a store that catered to young women. You know, high school and college age girls.
“Why are you looking in there for?” I asked wanting to get done.
“You need to get something.”
“What?”
“We need to buy you some clothes if we’re going to go out next week.”
I canted my head and gave him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about. I have plenty of clothes.”