Posts Tagged ‘first dance’

All the planning, shopping, coordinating, talking, planning, phone calls, stress, and cajoling culminated tonight.

I meant to take McKayla’s dress to the cleaners, not because it needed to be cleaned, but because I don’t iron.  Let me rephrase that, I detest ironing. I never iron anything.  I hang all of our clothes at it comes out of the dryer.  If for some reason I miss that window, I will rewash.  Last year when we moved from California to Washington we spent a few days living in a hotel while our massive amounts of crap was loaded into a semitruck.  Jacob saw the ironing board at the Holiday Inn Express and said, “Hey Mom!  They have the sewing machine board here!  Where do they keep the Sewing Machines?  What are you going to make us?”  yep, my kid had no idea what an ironing board was, nor an iron’s primary purpose.  The whole point here, I don’t iron.

Alas, I forgot about the cleaners.  This morning she brought me the dress waded in a ball and asked me if I could iron it for her.

“Um, no.”

house work.

Thank goodness her dad loves her, and his mom taught him how to iron.  Also, thank goodness her dad remembered to pick up the boutonniere.

McKayla:  Oh my gosh!  Look at these pins!  This looks dangerous!  

Dave:  Do you want me to show you how to pin it on him.

McKayla:  No, I’m good, I’ll watch a youtube video. 

Half a dozen girls came over this afternoon to straighten and curl their hair.  Put on makeup, paint their nails and do all those other things that teen age girls like to do.

getting ready

We then loaded all the girls into the minivan and drove over to McKayla’s boyfriend’s house for pictures and limo pick up.

teenagers and pins

This poor, poor boy.  I’m sure he was thinking:   Please don’t stab me!  Please don’t stab me!  After she said, Oh, I totally forgot how to watch that youtube video. 

And then when he pulled out the corsage, she said, “What!  I have to pin you and you just get to put that on my wrist!

growing up

I promise they aren’t mouth breathers, McKayla just kept up a nonstop banter with this poor sweet boy.

Let me tell you, trying to get a dozen teenagers to take a picture was a little bit like hearding cats.  At one point one of the dad’s said, “Okay, I’m going to count to three, I’m going to say ‘blink’ you’re all going to blink and then I’ll take your picture.  It took about three tries of that before it worked.

ah, to be young again

Though this isn’t the best picture, it’s my favorite of the bunch.  I love how happy all of the girls look.  It may have been snapped mid conspiratorial conversation or joke, or right before McKayla and her friend broke out in a coughing fit.  Fun, plague, basically the same thing.

first date

I’m pretty sure the boy is saying, “Oh my gosh!  This boutonniere is stabbing me in the heart!”  And this boy is the nicest, sweetest, most polite kid ever.  He’d probably go home with a huge hole in his chest and never mention once how miserable he was all night.


I overheard one of the girls saying, “I can’t believe we got a limo, that’s so prom.  I think party buses are for homecoming.  This is so classy.”  I didn’t know that there was vehicle protocol.  Let me tell you, I’m so glad that they got a limo not a party bus because as we were driving home we saw a teenagers but hanging out of a party bus.  What a recipe for disaster.

Also, one of the girls texted McKayla and said, “Now that we’re getting a limo, I need to make sure that their won’t be any alcohol and drugs.”

McKayla read it to me and laughed, “I’m not quite sure who she thinks would be doing any of that.  None of us drink or do drugs.”  She forwarded the text on to everyone and said, “Are you all leading a secret drug and alcohol life I don’t know about? If so, don’t tell me about in the limo.”

teens in a limo

After they left, Dave and I decided to get frozen pizzas, ice cream and a redbox movie for the boys and go out to dinner.  There is something very, very nice about having a responsible 12-year-old kid.

Just as we were leaving the house, McKayla called and asked us to go home.  One of the girls had forgotten her purse at our house.  Could we please drop it off at the restaurant.

Me:  Well, you’re dad and I were going out to dinner, do you think you could add our name to the wait list. 

Her:  Sure, it’s dead here.  You can get a table no problem.

Me:  Awesome!

A few minutes later, we got a second phone call.  Someone left their id at home.  Could we pick that up and deliver it too?

Me:  We’d love to.  Maybe we could sit at your table…

When we got to the restaurant, Dave took a picture of them eating them from behind a booth.

Me:  What are you doing?

Dave:  If we were spying, this is where I’d do it from.  I’m just keeping them on their toes.  

And that is why I love him!  It might also be because he cracks me up.  He posted the picture on facebook with the caption:  “I don’t think she’s seen us yet, we were able to get a table within line of sight!”

Our friends our hilarious.  Some of the comments (okay, all of them because i don’t want to loose them):

  • you are a mean, mean father!
  • OMG you guys are the best parents ever
  • I wish my parents loved me enough to spy on me during my dates.  You guys are awesome.
  • high five!!
  • (McKayla’s) -_-
  • She looks SO happy
  • (McKayla)  I was eating a cheeseburger (at a mexican restaurant.  What a gringa)
  • No, looked like you were kissing.  You could east easier if that guy let go of your hand.
  • No, necking at the table!
  • McKayla, seriously put away the phone you’re on a date.
  • (me) Part of me wants to say, “why are you on Facebook at the table?!? How rude!” but then if you’re texting, facebooking, etc there is no chance of physical contact…
  • Chanel…win   Mckayla, we love you.  Oh, and I’m on the other side of the restaurant from your parents.  –there’s nowhere to hide.
  • Also, tell your parents to enjoy a date too–they are also on fb at the table 😉
  • This bush is not comfy and I can’t see in the windows…Does it look like rain?
  • Gosh darnit!  I’m at he wrong place!  Stupid apple gps!
  • Best post ever!
  • epic!
  • Seriously?!  You’re stalking your kid?
  • Your dad says that’s just mean.

(That was some wonderful entertainment while Dave and I waited for a table at a completely different restaurant in an entirely different town.)

I handed out all of the requested items and then pulled out my camera.

Me:  Say Cheese!

The boyfriend gave an adorable smile.


What I absolutely love about that kid is he got us a table right next to them.

Him:  I thought you guys were going to eat with us?

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There were rumors that Homecoming was going to be the first Friday back to school.  Oh the mental anguish of a teenager.

Her: How will I ever get asked?  No one knows me?!?

Me:  Well, except for the 4 bajillion friends you have on facebook.

Then Homecoming turned out to not be Friday but later, giving teens time to give not-so-subtle hints and plan extravagant proposals for Homecoming dates.  The extra time did not stop the  worrying and fretting though.

And then it happened, she was asked.

And she rejected the invitation.

I heard no one’s asked you to Homecoming yet.  I bet you’re getting nervous.  It probably means I don’t have to do any of that stupid silly stuff everyone has already done.  Do you want to go with me?”

“If you can’t even ask me nicely, I don’t think I can go with you.”

There were rumors that boys were testing the waters and asking probing questions.  There was still lots of fretting and worrying though.  What if noone followed through?

Then there were lots of neutral and ambiguous texts and facebook messages like:

What’s your favorite kind of flower?

So, what would be a really cute way to ask a girl to homecoming?

and my favorite:

I think you already know exactly how you want to be asked, and anything less than that would be a let down. 

Today, sometime around lunch, I received an excited text with pictures of the flowers and “Homecoming!!!!! :)”

I can’t even begin to tell you the mixture of emotions.  I am so incredibly happy for her.  I’m relieved that he’s her friend, a boy we’ve only heard good things about for months.  I’m glad that he went out of his way to make her feel special.

This is just the first of a new chapter for her.  First flowers from a boy, the first dance, the first dating scenario (because we are NOT calling this dating people!  We are calling this friends going to a dance!) and the first time a boy is going to come over to our house for dinner.

Him:  You’ll have to give me the heads up.  Are your parents super strict?  What should I wear? 

Her:  Dinner is a formal affair.  Dress shirt, tie, or polo would be fine.  You must gel your hair back.  Absolutely DO NOT make eye contact!  No touching.  EVER. 

Me:  That poor boy.

Her:  I know.  I don’t even know why he asked me. 

growing up

But I can’t help but feel a little bit sad. This whole growing up thing is happening so very, very fast.  There is so much talk about college and growing up and leaving:

Her:  I’m pretty sure I’m going to go to college far away and very rarely come home.  I feel like I’m going to want to go to Thanksgiving at my boyfriend’s house and then vacation over winter break. 

Me:  That would make me so very sad.  Who will do all the complaining on the holidays if you’re gone?

Her:  Okay, if I pick a college close by will you do my laundry for me?

Me:  Is this supposed to be a favorable situation for me? 

Her:  Yes.  I will still be close enough to come home for dinner and laundry regularly.  Won’t you be happy to see me often?

Me:  Maybe I can install a coin-op washer/dryer and you can invite all of your friends to do their laundry here. 

Secretly, I pray often that she will stick close by.  Don’t leak that to her though, she will probably take that as a clue to start looking at study abroad programs in Zimbabwe.  I don’t know how I would survive if she went away and married a boy and they settled far away.  Already I have regular crying fits about my sisters possible, potential, not even close to being conceived unborn children.

Me sobbing to Dave: I’m so sad.  I’m never going to feel my sister’s pregnant belly.  The likelihood that I’ll get to hold my minute old niece is so very slim. 

Dave:  Is your sister pregnant?

Me: No.  I’m just talking hypothetically here.  I guess I could visit for her whole third trimester so that I’m there when she goes into labor.  But then, if I’ve been there for three months I’m pretty sure she will be sick of me and ask me to go home.  Really, my only hope is that my sister decides to go back to work after her baby is born.

Dave:  So, you’re hoping she marries someone who can’t provide for her to stay at home?

Me:  No, maybe she will love her job.  Maybe she’ll find it incredibly rewarding and want to go back.  If she goes back, that’s my only hope. Then I could convince her to send my niece to me every summer.  Free babysitting!  How else will I get to know my niece.  Otherwise I’ll just be auntie chanel who sends really cool presents and crochets her crazy dolls and sends frilly dresses because lets face it, I suck at calling people, I can never mail a birthday present on time, and I hate to skype.

Dave:  I’m sure this pretend niece will love you wherever we live.

Me:  I’m pretty sure I’m screwed.  I should start selling how much I love it here in the land of Big Foot.  Maybe I can encourage her to move here.  She can move into McKayla’s room when she goes to college.

I can’t imagine a grandchild thousands of miles away.  Honestly, I really can’t imagine a college age kid.  It’s hard enough reconciling this teenage kid with my baby girl.

what a cutie

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