I had a "Scene" mom makeover

For my daughter's tenth birthday, she wanted to give me a makeover. A "scene" makeover, to look like her big sister, who introduced our family to the scene/emo look. Do you know what that is? For you visual folks, I'll show you:

Scene girls wear lots of dark eye makeup, have perfect eyebrows, and dyed hair that is layered and teased. They wear fun accessories, like bows and Hello Kitty, and lots of black, preferably band "merch" purchased from Hot Topic. Facial piercings are common. And selfies with dorky faces are essential. Here is my oldest, who I think it the prettiest of all the scene girls:

Now, here is what I look like:

I don't wear eye makeup, or much black, and I wear my hair in a bun every single day. I do have my septum pierced but I haven't worn jewelry in it for years. My eyebrows are decent. I like to smile pleasantly and I shop at Anthropologie.

But I am one of those mom's that really likes to make my kids happy on their birthdays (possibly to make up for being such a shit to them the rest of the year.) If the birthday girl wanted me to be a Scene Mom and parade me around Oaks Amusement Park for her enjoyment, then I would step up.

This required some pre-planning. First, I went to Hot Topic (duh) and bought a band shirt, and then went straight home to cut it up. Then I bought a neon green tank top to wear underneath. I also bought some gel eyeliner and dug an old piece of nose jewelry out of my jewelry box. Finally, I procured a pair of Converse sneakers (scene kids wear Converse and emo kids wear Vans, I have been told.)

The night before, I stayed up late and practiced how to make a nice cat eye with my gel liner. I also read on wikiHow about how to be a "good" scene girl. I learned that it's more than a look, it is about attitude as well. So while make-up and hair choices are flexible, and scene girls should be well-groomed at all times, they also exude confidence but not bitchiness (I kept thinking that these instructions had the air of those vintage "how to" etiquette books for teens....only extremely modernized.) It dawned on me my oldest has been nailing this scene thing right under my nose for over a year and I never really noticed past the "look": she always comes out of her bedroom very put together, clean, smelling nice and with an air of authority. She looks intimidating on the surface but when someone is brave enough to compliment her, she responds with sweetness. She calls her friends "betches" and flips off the camera but when she talks to little kids she says "awwww" and "thank you, sweetie" and even sometimes leaves the house dressed as Pokemon's Pikachu. She has embraced a sub-culture that really reflects the duality of adolescence: one foot in the adult world and one in childhood. I felt like doing this helped me understand her better...ironic that the wishes of my middle child helped me understand my oldest child better.

So, on the big day, I let the girls help me with my hair and make-up. The biggest challenge was my hair since I wasn't willing to cut it (I have my limits) but they showed me how to part it just right, to comb it over and have it cover one of my eyes (hey, I already have amblyopia!) and loaned me some band bracelets. I felt like a completely different person, like I was in costume. In fact, someone came by the shop while we were doing the makeover to introduce me to their new girlfriend and I immediately explained, "I don't normally look like this!!"

First, I took the oh-so-important selfie while touching my hair:

Don't be basic, betches.

Then, it was time for the big reveal:

Holla!

 

 

 

Then, we hit Oaks Park:

Do they even know what that means...? Who cares, I'm a cool and confident scene mom.

The Scrambler is HELLA!

The report: My hair was a pain in the ass, it was too hot for black skinny jeans, and I felt like a nanny, not a mom, the entire time since all the make-up took ten years off. But it was FUN. The best part was how much of a kick the kids got out of it. I think the effort I put into it made them feel understood and seen and respected. It was totally worth it. And, the best BEST part was that the birthday girl was happy.

Thirty-one

For a boring number like 31, I had a pretty great birthday. At least, after a rough start....and middle. I enjoyed the classic breakfast in bed, even if someone who I will not identify was being grumpy (but not at me.) We attended temple and showed the house, which was business as usual. At one point, I sweated and struggled for 30 minutes with a child who was stuck in a pair of my rain boots--she had her sneakers on when she stepped into them. The boots were destroyed as was my patience.



I did have some pleasant moments with the kids sprinkled here and there, but all in all they are a fighting, miserable bunch lately, for reasons that don't fit into a birthday blog. I love them dearly, but taking the evening away with my husband was the saving grace. Dates with him are the best, and this one had no time limit, so it was a mini-vacation of multiple pleasures.

I decided last minute to stop by Target before heading downtown, to get a dress that I'd seen earlier that day. Sometimes a piece of clothing mind-worms me and I have to go back. Funny thing is that it came in many colors and it was the one color I hadn't considered that creeped in (a hot magenta.) Sometimes the hottest outfit is the one that cost $25 on top and $300 below: I paired it with my amazing Jon Fluevog "pebble" pumps.


We went directly to Anthropologie once we got downtown, and Blake knows the routine. He held my tea while I piled high my potential choices, then settled into the overly-beautiful dressing room lobby with the other husbands and boyfriends, for the try-on showings. Two cotton tops and a navy wool sweater pencil skirt made the cut.


We had just enough time to check in to our hotel, run upstairs to iron and scotch-guard my dress, and squeeze into my nylons, dress and heels. Make-up happened on the drive to the restaurant, where we just made our reservation, good thing too because we got a romantic private table by the windows. We've eaten at Higgins a few times before but only in the bistro which is a more relaxed, lounge-type atmosphere. The food is so fresh and creative and compliment-inducing. Its one our favorite things to do, share dishes and talk about the flavors and textures together. This night was extra-special since we know a chef in the kitchen and also a server, so in between our orders came little tasty off-the-menu delights. The pork belly over fluffy potatoes and gruyere and topped with caramel corn, and the pumpkin hummus with picked vegetables a crispy thin toast were stand out. By the time our scallops and duck entrees came, we were laughing at the ridiculousness of the volume and decadence. Regardless, I still convinced Blake to head over the the warmer bar, to share a light dessert (coffee cheesecake with spun sugar and caramel sauce...complete with birthday candle) and espresso, which ended up also on the house. Such happy grinning fools we exited as.



Then we had a first: we went to a landmark club together, to see some beautiful women dance nude in a mellow setting. My first time to a strip club was only maybe 6 months ago. Blake hasn't been to one in over ten years. He's a very "eyes for you only" type of partner, and I have never been attracted to women sexually in the past. But after my first time there, I got it. The dancers are impressive on so many levels-- I appreciate their confidence, I love the diversity of bodies and energy, and its impossible to not find that sexy. We had so much fun, sipping our drinks and laying our cash down while smiling and flirting and chatting with each other, amidst the soft, fleshy, sexy entertainment. Plus the music is so well chosen, not obnoxious at all; in fact, one girls danced to a National song which blew us away since its one of our "love song" bands. We left with even bigger grins than Higgins.


Yup, that's all you get. Our comfy hotel awaited us, and I don't get to say what we did or when we went to bed. So yada, yada, yada, I was really tired this morning. (Seinfeld)

Bless his husbandly heart, in the morning, Blake brought me a onion biali with lox and an espresso in bed, and went home so Grandma, who watched the kids overnight, could get to work. I stayed in bed for a few hours, shoeing away housekeeping until the retail stores opened at 10am. I put on my heels with jeans and red lips and my green waterproof linen raincoat I got in NYC and I hit downtown for a final shopping excursion, before hopping on the Max and riding home.

Last year would have been impossible to top--flying down to L.A. with my best friends to meet up with my sister to attend a Price is Right taping. But this year was as perfect as you can get, and if every year's birthday could be like last night, I would please like to live to be 100.