Archive for the ‘Fashion’ Category

Dude, I ALWAYS wanted to do this. Alas, I’m several years too old to be Stuck at Prom! However, this years contest is gearing up, and starts March 1st! What contest, you say?

The one where you and you’re prom date make your prom outfits entirely from Duck Tape! INORITE?! Here in Alaska the joke is we can fix anything with duct tape and bailing wire, though shockingly the entries from Alaska for Stuck At Prom are few and far between!

Check out the gallery! There are some AMAZING outfits (that’s last year’s winner on the left here)! And it’s not all just for fun and giggles, oh no – they’re giving away 20 Scholarships to celebrate their 10th Anniversary!

It’s really very simple! Here are the rules, and then it’s just four steps, really. Create an outfit, Make the top 10, Earn Votes/Survive each Week/Win Scholarships! This year the first place winners receive a $3000 scholarship, second place will receive $2000, and third $1000. Runner’s up get $500.

If nothing else, if you enter, you KNOW that you’ll have the most unique prom outfit at your school – so there’s nothing to lose! So, what’re you waiting for? break out the Duck Tape and design away!

Wonder if THIS would convince my boy to go to prom this year…

I know, I know, we all say our kids are talented, more so than any other kids, because that’s what we do. It’s our JOB as parents to make sure the world knows our kids are so much better than yours, and yours and yours and WAY better than yours over there so don’t even THINK about comparing them to mine!

So, this entry will probably not come as a surprise, at all. Because Peppermist? Is WAY talented and artistic!

Check it out: Auntie had the idea that she wanted to make her kids masks this year – paper machete, using balloon forms, and giving the kids the masks they wanted. Knowing that Peppermist loves all things artistic, she asked for her help. Every day after school last week saw Peppermist and Auntie elbow deep in balloons, paper machete, paper plates, and paints.

While Auntie had the ideas, she gets frustrated and had problem making the forms. Peppermist to the rescue! She figured the forms, made the masks, and helped with the paint.

The end results? A very happy Frog, Pelican, and Jackass -DMan’s in 7th grade, he couldn’t resist the joke.

In the end, they even managed enough time for one VERY colorful Zebra for Peppermist herself. I’m not crafty in any way – my artistic ability is passable at best, though I love dabbling in photoshop, photography, and even drawing by hand on occasion. So in looking at these masks? Color me impressed – BIG time!

What artistic things does YOUR teenager do? When’s the last time you took a look, and told them they were amazing? G’on. Don’t be shy. They might roll their eyes at you, but secretly, they’ll be pleased.

As I’m sure ya’ll have figured out by now – I’m very much a pro-express yourself kinda gal. I dig piercings, tattoos and body modification, and find the extremes weirdly fascinating. I dig people who know what they like, and have the inner strength to do as they please with their bodies as canvas, and even their dress code. I’ve always been a BIG supporter of allowing teenagers to express themselves through various means – hair color, mode of dress, etc. – with just one rule: Keep it tasteful, beware the slut factor, and for the love of all things holy, son, please pull up your pants so I don’t have to see your crack.

Not all parents/adults are as tolerant as I am, and that’s come to a head at the North Cobb High School in Georgia. Jonathan Escobar recently transferred after moving in with his sister. His preferred mode of dress includes skinny jeans, women’s flats, make-up, and wigs. He was told by school officials last week to either dress more “manly” or choose home schooling, citing the dress code rule with prohibits attire that is “disruptive to school activities.” It seems that the pink wig on day three is what was deemed too over-the-top, after a group of students surrounded Escobar in the lunchroom.

Now, I’m not against having a dress code at any school – my kids school has one, and I went through years of an extremely strict dress code (including uniforms!) at private schools. My kids aren’t to wear shirts with sayings that are deemed vulgar, there are no ‘belly shirts’ or sleeveless wear, etc. Other than that, the floor is pretty much open to dress as you please. We have everything from uber-fashionable, to goth to hippie to jock, you name it. It can all be found within those guidelines. I’m not sure how my town would react to someone with Escobar’s flair for fashion, though. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure they’d fall in line with the Georgia School Board – and that bugs me.

You see, one of my BIGGEST pet peeves is double standards. I’m a BIG believer in what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Don’t tell me it’s ok for a boy to do something, but not a girl, or vice versa because I WILL say something about it. Which leads me to this question: are they telling the girls to dress more “feminine” if they come to school in jeans and a football jersey? Or with combat boots and a men’s button down and tie? By the commenters on the article that have attended Cobb High, or know of it – they are not stopping goth attire, or any other mode of fashion expression which makes this a case of intolerance simply because a boy enjoys vintage female clothing and makeup.

He wasn’t wearing a skirt or a dress. For the three days he attended Cobb High School, he wore skinny jeans and vintage tops, a wig and flats. He wasn’t wearing high heels, a flamboyant wig that was 3 feet high, he wasn’t dressed to the nines as the ultra drag queen. He is a boy, in skinny jeans. His mode of dress is well in line with the clothing guidelines of the school -thus it’s REALLY only an issue because he’s a boy, and they don’t find him man enough.

Jonathan clearly understands that there will be bullying. He is willing to stand up to that, which shows an inner strength that few teenagers show. He’s willing to stand against the prejudices of others, to wear his skinny jeans. Why not use this as an occasion to teach tolerance and acceptance? Why not use this as a lesson in accepting your friends the way they are?

Some say it’s not their job to teach tolerance, it should be taught at home. I agree with you – however, you know it’s not being done in some circles. While it’s not your job to parent, it’s your job to TEACH, and when a situation presents itself, you are doing yourself a disservice if you let it slide by without addressing it.

Face it – in a week, the novelty would have worn off, no one would think twice about what the kid wears. Adults, as a general rule, don’t give teenagers much credit, and their often far more open and accepting than we think they will be. Why not give them the chance to prove it?

I had to wait a full 24 hours before writing this one, as the first draft after the incident would have been full of words that would make a sailor blush and Mama hide her eyes and cringe. Now, at least I can speak without stuttering, and view things a little bit clearer. Though with the clarity comes a dark boiling fury that wants to leap free – I’m just in control of it now, whereas yesterday… oh my.

I don’t write about my youngest, my 9 year old, here too often yet, as she’s technically not a teen, or even a tween, though when her issues or conversations should be included for a story, they are. She’s my baby, and I’m full aware – as I’ve mentioned before – that I’m completely doomed with her when puberty hits full force. Right now though, she’s still all knees and elbows and legs and arms that refuse to work in the same direction at the same time despite how much she wants them too. She’s sass, and attitude, and chatter and giggling, and frilly and girly and divaliciousness AND random tears for no reason at all (hello hormones!). She’s my drama queen, she – just like my older kids – is my life.

And when she hurts – I want to hurt someone back. I want to make it go away. I want to FIX it, and make it better. But as a mom, I know that I can’t lash out. I have to teach her how to deal with things on her own. I have to be the bigger mom, the better parent, the smarter adviser so that she grows up stronger then most, and definitely smarter then those who have the actual problem because their parents can’t be bothered with the job of raising civilized offspring.

Sometimes, it’s easy.
A lot of the time it’s hard as hell.
Yesterday, it was EXCRUCIATING.

The pup came home from school worried about her gym shoes – because the laces were frayed and she thought someone had done it on purpose to get back at her. She was worried about telling me, so told her auntie instead – and that’s when the full story emerged. It’s never just about the shoes.

There was an incident in her classroom, when the teacher had stepped in the hallway to deal with another problem. There were names called, and accusations thrown, and then the two boys who have been picking at my daughter for a month now (one of which we’ve had problems with before for a year or so), hit her below the belt. Not physically – this was far worse. These boys, 4th grade boys, told my daughter that her father never loved her, that he left because he didn’t care about her, that he never wanted her to begin with.

For those that don’t know, her father, my husband, died unexpectedly 3.5 years ago.

She couldn’t hold it in – she fought back, though with only words. The whole classroom erupted into screaming, and then she did what I had taught her. She turned and walked away, why these two little…. these two boys called her names. The teacher hurried back in – all this happened in mere moments – and got the classroom under control, and no one, not even my daughter, told her what had started the fight. She doesn’t want to be a tattletale, and she knew she should have walked away and gotten the teacher first. And when she discovered her shoelaces, and how destroyed they were – when they had not been that way earlier – she thought they had done it on purpose, and transferred all that worry into hoping I wouldn’t be mad about the shoelaces, even though I’ve told her time and time again that THINGS don’t matter, people do. She had to cling to something to transfer her worry to, something tangible since she knew that the boys were wrong, that they had lied, and that they had hurt her on purpose.

Of course her auntie told me, and we told the teacher, and let her know what really happened. I also assured the pup that I could fix the damn shoelaces – they weren’t a problem. The teacher had a class meeting this morning, and made sure to phrase things in such a way that there were no fingers pointing at the pup, that would make the boys act out against her again today, and we – the teacher and I – have an action plan of what to do should it start to escalate again.

The pup and I had another talk about walking away, about getting to a teacher if needed, and about words and stupid people don’t matter in the grand scheme of things because SHE knows the truth. Her daddy loved her more than life, I love her with the same intensity, and nothing anyone ever says could change that. The boys found a soft spot that would hurt her, and pushed.

I wish I knew how to teach her to protect her heart, while still keeping it as full and open as it always as been. I wish I could wrap her up and protect her from all the assholes of this world, no matter what age they might be. I want to keep her SAFE, and secure, yet still teach her to be as fiercely independent as she desires to be. I wish it didn’t hurt so badly when someone hurts my baby, and I wish I could strike back.

Instead, I can only do what I can do – hold her close, until she’s done letting me comfort her. Let go when she wants to walk on her own, yet hover close enough to catch her when she falls. Step back and let her fall when she thinks she’s ready too – so that I can pick her back up again, until she’s strong enough to pick herself up, dust herself off, and try once more.

I’m never sure if I’m doing enough, too much, not near enough. All I can do is try to help pad the soft spots, while keeping them open and free-flowing and strong.

Sometimes being the bigger, better parent sucks donkey balls.

Then, this morning, she reminded me just why we put ourselves through it, as she woke up happy and smiling and danced her way through her day on cloud nine. She even told me when she got home that for some reason, she was happier than ever today – and no one could tell that she had a problem yesterday because she was so happy and thrilled with life. For some reason, her day was just… good. No, today it was great. She doesn’t need to know why – it just was.

I think I know why. I think that her daddy held her up today, wrapped in his arms, wrapped in his love that was so big in life that it transcends death.

And I think she’ll be okay.

(Homecoming Bonfire, 9-19-08)

So. Homecoming is this weekend, and you know what THAT means… Exactly. SHOPPING. (what were YOU thinking?!)

Now, sometimes I quite enjoy shopping. When it’s Christmas time and I’m searching for just the right thing to make my family smile, when it’s a special birthday, or just a quick ‘i love you’ moment to help make someone’s day… those are times I don’t mind the press of the crowds and the multitude of faces, or even the fat lady that walks around on my knees all day making them ache. (I really should have a talk with her, you know!)

But then.. then there was last Friday night, and The Homecoming Shopping Excursion! Since The Girl’s BFF (no, not Jill! MK!) is going with my son, it was decided that a joint shopping trip was needed, so that they could make sure they looked fabulous, and also because I told them they could help pick out The Boy’s outfit too. Color the teenagers happy! I should have known better.

You see, not only was it a Friday night in our small town where there’s only one real clothing store to speak of until our Walmart is built and finished… it was also Dividend Day. Dividend Day is quite simply the day where all Alaskan’s who signed up for direct deposit of their Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend, suddenly had money in their pockets and a determination to spend it all RIGHT NOW.

I know. I’m an idiot. But, it was the one night that both girls could shop together, so I braved the wilds Of the Myer de Fred, with two giggly teenage girls in tow.

It was packed, but there were also racks upon racks of things that were 60% off, which made Mama happy, as we began our search. First, neither girl was certain what size they wore, in ANYTHING, or what they were looking for other then “Something… (gestures vaguely) …pretty.” It took four trips to the dressing room with multiple items each, where they shared the room and whispered to me to come check and discarded outfit after outfit. I also was the one in charge of making things work. (Hello, Tim Gunn!) I went back and forth between the racks, remembering where in the Sea of Sale that we found each item, in order to find the next size up, or the next size down, or no remember this one came in PURPLE too, can we try THAT one? Because changing the color would make it fit, rather then changing the size. Srsly.

There was a lot of laughter, giggling, grumbling, muttering, and even an excited squeal or two – one from me, as they declared something PERFECT at LAST! – and an infinite amount of patience so as not to beat down those who were just as eager to find that Perfect Something To Spend Their Money On. Also me.

Then after the dresses, there was 5 minutes spent picking out the boys outfit (because I am that good! And also, boys are easy.), on to the jewelry counter for accessories, hosiery for tights, and then… shoes.

OMG the shoes. These were too girly, they make me walk like a girl and I hate walking like a girl (this would be the one wearing PINK head to toe..) those are too sporty, these too big, those PERFECT but too small, those too tight, those OMG my feet would DIE, those perfect, but not in black (which I insisted on so that they could be use for concerts this year, too. Mama ain’t no dummy!), these ones are… you get the drift.

It also took three and a half HOURS, people. 3.5 HOURS! The last hour and a half? The Shoes. Finally, we were able to get out of there, with two very happy hungry freshman girls, and one exhausted and hungry mama. We made a pit stop at Taco Hell, and then it was home at last, where they naturally had to try everything on, AGAIN. Fortunately, they were still happy, though I came to one, very important conclusion through this experience:

I shoulda had all boys. It would have been SO much easier!

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