Laddie attended his first prom last night. The experience with all the additional bells and whistles, post proms, prom pictures, and prom houses was new to Coach and I. The appalling price of a tux reserved for two consecutive weekends was a bit of a shock to us as well. The second weekend rental is necessary because next weekend he will dress up once again to escort the delightful girl he is dating to her school's prom. Two proms in 6 days. Of course he had originally informed me that her prom was the Saturday after his. It wasn't until we were in the midst of posing for pictures that I learned the actual date.
Everyone looked beautiful in their fancy duds. Once the kids had smiled for enough photos to
fill an album, her mom began to review their prom packet with me. I had
just met these lovely people, and they were poised and ready to share
their detailed prom packet for the prom Lad will attend at her school
next weekend. It was impressive. A vision of the simple flyer Laddie
had tossed on the counter appeared in my mind, but I had no copy to
offer his date's mom. Our oldest doesn't communicate with us much. He
keeps us on a need-to-know-basis. We frequently shuffle around at the last minute trying to dig up the info that we need at the last minute, because we are A. clueless and B. busy. The info that he brought home was lumped in with mounds of
overlooked paperwork scattered in with the rest of my kitchen counter clutter. I was unclear what
laddie had shared with his date.
I tried to concentrate
on this packet brimming with information. Was it protocol to produce
such a document? I interrupted Mrs. Prom-date-mom after a minute. Something wasn't
jiving. The date. Laddie had told us his second prom was taking place on a Saturday, but the
packet listed this popular senior milestone on a Friday. I doubted the
packet would lie. I tried to conjure up an image of my huge dry erase
board on the kitchen wall. Oh, that was it. Friday was not a problem,
but Danny would be competing in an important water polo game the
Mrs. Prom-date-mom handled the mix up
with grace. I assured her we would figure something out. My mind
whirled though. This group of kids planned to sleep over at his date's house. In the morning after breakfast, they would depart for a cottage in Michigan. I was relieved that the prom packet referenced the fact that one of the kid's adult cousins would be serving as chaperone. Now we had to organize transportation for him from his
away game to this prom house. Embarrassing. His date had a prom packet. We had nothing but the
wrong information for her dance and only a bit of fuzzy details about
the night ahead of them on our end. Oops.
said good-bye, I raced home and dug up an informative
far-cry-from-a-packet flyer and texted a photo of it to Mrs. Prom-date-mom.
Did she know her daughter wouldn't be arriving back to the school
parking lot until 3:30 am? Based on how forth coming Laddie was with details, I doubted his date knew the night would prove to be such a late one. I cringed as I imagined her parents' reaction when they received my text.
Coach instructed Laddie to text us once he returned by bus to the school parking lot, so we had an idea of what time he would be arriving home after driving his date to her house about 20 minutes away. The text arrived at 3:30 am. After a frustrating struggle to go back to sleep, I decided to plop in front of the computer and work until I felt drowsy again. About 20 minutes later, I heard the garage door go up. We had worried that Lad would be too tired to drive home, so I was relieved. Our first prom experience ended safely.
Because sleep evaded Coach as well, he shuffled out to the kitchen in his boxers. A few minutes later he moaned about why it was taking Laddie so long to get in the house. He opened the door and flickered the garage lights. Next we heard the familiar loud creaking noise as the garage door made its descent. Unfortunately, Laddie failed to enter the house. 'He just drove away!' Coach shared in a loud whine. I raced out to the kitchen where Coach was calling and texting our oldest son. No response. Could he have heard of a party somewhere? Did his date leave something in his car? Coach asked me if I had Lad's best friend's number. Hoping I wasn't waking him up, I texted his friend to see if Laddie had headed over to his house. Nope. He was indeed sleeping until he got my text.
I emptied the dishwasher as I listened to Coach question what could be wrong with our kid. At last I could see a car driving down the street from the kitchen window. It looked like Laddie's car. Coach asked me if I was sure it was him. Based on the fact that our neighborhood doesn't see a lot of traffic at 4:45 am, I went out on a limb and assured him it was our kid. Garage door went up. An exhausted Laddie appeared. He seemed surprised to see our droopy faces hanging out in the kitchen.
His phone died. He had been too busy digging around under the seats to locate his wallet to notice the garage lights flickering. His date had tucked his bulky wallet into her purse for safe keeping, and he forgot to retrieve it from her. A snap-chat with his ipod from the driveway aided him in communicating with her and they met half way to exchange the wallet. It all added up.
I tried to ask a few prom related questions. 'Was it fun? Did his date enjoy the night? Did she meet enough people from his group in advance to feel comfortable?' He begged me to stop with the prom inquisition and let him get some sleep. He was heading to an indoor water park with his buddies the next morning and he wanted some sleep. (Most dates weren't going to the water park hotel). I was unsure whether or not Coach and I had gathered sufficient details about this after prom fiasco, but I surrendered and we all went to bed.
I suppose I will have to wait several years for the girls to attend prom before one of my offspring decides to fill me in on the actual dance. Maybe by then since there will be less kids living in the house, the kitchen counter will be uncluttered and orderly. All prom related flyers will be neatly arranged on the top of a pile. I'm assuming we will be a bit more focused on the few kids left living under our roof. We will be all about the details. Perhaps we will even be the parents distributing an informative prom packet . . . but, I highly doubt it.