Babygirl's long struggle with the education system has left us missing some monumentous milestones. Unlike her many sisters, I haven't had to shop for party dresses (there used to be a website called 10dollarstore.com that was a favorite), or annual spring and fall school clothes. She didn't attend her 8th grade dance. HIgh school graduation is still a distant hope.
This past two years, a few co-workers and friends who have kids her age have been sharing pictures: Prom gowns and tuxes, limos and fancy dinners, caps and gowns. I'm happy for them, truly. But it made me understand, a little, how infertile women feel at baby showers: That's just not going to happen for my kid. So I smile and say the right things (and sincerely mean them all!) and then grieve for what she's lost.
But Babygirl has a friend from school who hasn't left her behind. She's graduating this year, and she invited Babygirl to the Prom.
So. This happened:
Babygirl and I went shopping. Got shoes, a dress, accessories. Curlygirl took her for a mani/pedi and makeup, and did her hair (and since I paid for her Cosmetology education, I figure that was about the most expensive hairdo I've ever bought).
Babygirl and her friend got dressed here at the house. And her friend handed me an envelope for prom photo packages. So while they were finishing pinning curls up on the third floor, I came downstairs to wrestle with my checkbook to see how much I was willing to pay for bad prom pictures.
You never know, ever, when a memory is going to take over an already emotionally-charged day and hit you right in the tear ducts, but: I dropped back to 2001. We had just expanded from 2 kids to 6 overnight. We'd needed beds, clothes, everything. Money was tight, VERY tight. I had school photo packets in my hands, and needed to be able to write checks, RIGHT NOW, for money I simply didn't have. My mom found me crying on the back porch, and wrote three checks for $17 so three little girls (two of whom had just arrived and were virtual strangers to her) could have their pictures done.
I sat with my checkbook and wept for a bit, missing the women who made the hard things in my life possible: Mom, Grandma, Bobbe - and so many more.
And then I spotted the package of Lorna Doones.
Backstory: I've donated blood all of my adult life, and joked that I really only came for the cookies. So a few years ago, when the Red Cross switched to Cheez It crackers, I complained. My friend Marj mans the snack table at the church blood drives, and she noticed. Last blood drive, she bought a box of Lorna Doone cookie packs, just for me. I swiped an extra pack for the road, and forgot about them.
I hadn't had lunch, dinner was still a long way off, and I was thirsty and tired. I grabbed a can of seltzer an opened my little pack of crumbled cookies and ate and drank like it was communion, and it was: The communion of Women Who Support Each Other. A reminder that there are still, and always will be, women friends in my life who would drop everything, do anything, be anywhere. I washed my face, wrote a check, and went upstairs, saying a prayer that Babygirl will always have that same support.
She's got a good start.
And that's all I can ask for her.
DeeDee
PS Oh, and that check? It got left on the floor of the bedroom during the prom-gown excitement. But it was never the issue anyway, was it?
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