Happy Mother's Day

“Have I taught you nothing?” Taffi lectured me over Skype. “No, you can’t wear a cardigan to the White Coat dinner tonight. Are you trying to look like a blue-hair? Turn the computer around so I can see the options again.”

We were leaving in a few minutes for the 1^st Semester White Coat dinner over at Bliss. My wounds, still fresh from the flabby arm comment the week before, were making it hard to decide what to wear. I’d called Taff and now wasn’t sure I’d be done listening to her school me on trendy clothes in time to go through the buffet line.

“OK, wear the black sundress and some cute sandals. Call me the minute you get home. I want to hear all about it.”

I ended our call and I put on the black sundress with spaghetti straps. One look in the mirror and my panic began. Memories of Jameson’s White Coat Ceremony flooded my mind while I pondered, To Cardigan or Not To Cardigan.

Last semester while sitting in the back row of LH1 and watching the youth gone wild while waiting for the ceremony to start, Grey and I overheard a group of girls talking about whether or not you could actually see their ass cheeks because they were wearing such short skirts. While they were talking I was wracking my brain to remember if A) I’d ever been in shape enough to wear something that short and B) if so, did I?  Grey thoroughly checked and determined that yes he could see cheeks and wanted to “help” the girls by sharing this information.  I politely explained that if he ever dated a girl who thought it was acceptable to wear a dress the size of a washcloth, we’d exchange words.  This flashback didn’t stop my batwing anxiety. On went the cardigan and flip-flops.

We arrived at Bliss just before the mad rush of buses from the AUC Campus. This was great news to me because we’d hit the buffet line early and hopefully get back home in time for me to wrap up some work. I was living up to my blue-hair image alright. Jameson and I stood in the line for the left of the buffet and Grey in the right. 

While slowly moving closer to the buffet tables and food, Jameson began talking to the 3^rd semester in front of us. I completely tuned him out and began scanning the students and their dates.

“Are you having fun?”

I glanced behind me and 2 guys were standing in line to go through the buffet. I asked, “Are you talking to me?”

“Uh, yeah,” the kid in the purple shirt and gold necklace said.

“I guess. Are you having fun?”

Purple shirt kid looked at his buddy, shrugged and replied, “Yeah.” We scooted forward in the line and he asked, “Are you like, here with your kid or something?”

I told him that I was here with my husband and son. Purple shirt kid visibly relaxed and we moved forward enough to grab plates and silverware.

“Do you know if any of your family could see the live stream of the ceremony? I told my mom to watch but I don’t know if it worked.”

“Oh,” I answered, “I have no idea. We didn’t go to the ceremony; we just came straight to the dinner. And, I didn’t even check out the site to see what the address was for streaming. Sorry.”

Using tongs to grab some chicken I noticed the guys looking at each other after that statement.

Kid in the white shirt and brown tie asked me, “Why would you come to your son’s White Coat and not even go? You here on vacation?”

My spine straightened, my jaw dropped open, I turned to the infants and said, “I’m going to assume you’re joking before I go Joan Crawford on your ass.”  Both boys stopped grabbing food and stared.  I added, “My husband is a 2^nd semester student and my son and I are here with him while he goes to school. I am not your mother’s age unless she gave birth at 14.”

My comment left a slight pause in conversation so I turned back to the buffet and kept walking.

“Dr. Crawford? Is she a professor?” White shirt kid asked.

Seriously?

“Yo. Fail,” Grey said to the kid. It was the first I’d even noticed he was listening to the conversation.

Over a 7 day stretch I’d been told that my arms were flabby and now I parented a child who had just walked in White Coat. I couldn’t hit the bar fast enough. Thank gawd for the free drinks. I went straight for a chardonnay, leaving my food on the buffet.  

Jameson had missed the entire conversation because he was trying to get some notes from the guy in front of him. Though, after hearing my story he wasn’t surprised to learn I’d be drinking my dinner.