Keeping Up with the Cicc-dashians

When my 3 daughters were in their peak teenage years—13, 15, and 17—I would often wonder why Al Qaeda did their training in caves in Afghanistan---if Al Qaeda wanted terrorist training, all they had to do was live in my house---my girls would have given them all the terrorist training they needed. And if Al Quada stayed here, they would have had a clean bed, 3 meals a day, and laundry service for all those bed sheets they wore.

My girls were socially situated nearer to the apex of the high school social strata. I say that not as a braggart—not at all-- but rather to induce sympathy from my readers. Teenage girls are difficult enough to parent with all those hormonal highs and lows-- and when you add an accelerated social life into the mix, it becomes that much more difficult.

And when you have daughters who are high profile in high school-land, people enjoy judging you and your children. And at all times you feel like a publicist doing damage control. Everyone in town always knows exactly what your girls are doing—you are exposed---it’s like living in a fishbowl. It was like living with Kourtney, Kim and Kloe  Kardashian—and I was Kris Jenner. Because even though my girls were “good,” parents who had children outside of my children’s social circle sought any opportunity to call m them (and me) “bad.”

The Winter Wonderland dance is a December semi-formal held at the high school. When my oldest daughter Samantha was a freshman, the dance was open to all four grades. But over-permissiveness by the high school administration set the stage for an “incident”—one of the sophomore girls had gotten alcohol poisoning before the dance even began and thus forced some needed changes. One of them was that the Winter Wonderland from then on would only be open to juniors and seniors BUT freshman and sophomores could attend IF their date was an upperclassman. The net effect was that very few sophomores and even fewer freshman got invitations after that point.

My daughter Briana was socially select. She also was a middle child and determined at all times to make sure her older sister Samantha never got anything “more” than she did—and by “more” I mean everything from an ounce of Diet Coke at dinnertime to an invitation to the Winter Wonderland dance. Briana may not have been technically allowed to go to the dance as a freshman, but that was not going to stop her. She knew people. And she knew people who knew people. And her people could arrange things. So when one of the good-looking junior soccer boys was looking for a date, her dress was already picked out. She was going.

So that meant I had 2 girls going to the dance. And that meant 2 dresses, 2 pairs of shoes, 2 sets of accessories, 2 hair appointments and 2 sets of worry. It also required me and my husband to be at 2 pre-parties at the same time—one on Whitehall Blvd and one on FouthStreet. And Samantha’s pre-party had a pre-party before the pre-party so before going to Fourth Street I (we) needed to go to Second Street first to take pictures before the pictures. So my husband and I split up and the girls fought over who got me in attendance because my husband is a terrible photographer. Ultimately I was in charge of attending Samantha’s pre-parties since she had gotten the first invitation.

I also needed to buy 2 boutonnieres—one for each of their dates. And now I am finally getting to the story. When I went to pick up the boutonnieres at Feldis Florist, I bumped into a woman who liked to judge me and my girls. She had 2 daughters: one was a senior and one was a freshman like Briana. Both of her girls were elite athletes but they were also facia brute—very facia brute---downright fugly. And this woman who liked to judge me and my daughters said Oh are you picking up a boutonniere too? (I think she wanted to let me know that her ugly older daughter had a date) And I said Actually I am picking up 2—both Samantha and Briana are going to the dance. And she said Really? You are allowing Briana—a freshman-- to go to the dance? Don’t you realize what she will be exposed to? All that drinking and hooking up? Do you think that is appropriate? I would never let my freshman daughter ever go to that dance.

Yep. I was getting judged again. And my daughters too. And typically when this happens I get so angry that my brain freezes and I have no response—or least I have no good response. I think of a comeback line hours later. But this time was different. I really disliked this woman’s inference and I think that is what got my brain into focus. I felt like the mama bear protecting her cubs. How dare this woman with her heinous daughters judge us?

So after she told me how she would never let her not very good looking freshman daughter go to the dance I simply said Well that’s something you are never going to have to worry about now will you? Your daughter would have had to have gotten an invitation first-- right?

And boy did the wind pop out of her sails after that remark. And I was so proud of myself for being so snotty.

I love Keeping Up With the Kardashians. When I watch it I believe I am watching my own family. I am Kris, Art is Bruce, Sam is Kim, Briana is Kloe, and Kara is Kourtney. Really. That’s what my family dynamic is like. And everyone both loves and hates each at all times—just like the Kardashians. And my girls are terrorists just like Kim, Kloe and Kourtney. And my job as Kris is to spin things in the most positive light at all times—just like she does. And it is exhausting. But unlike Kris Jenner I do not have her money or her access to plastic surgery. And so I have wrinkles and gray hair and digestive disorders. But that’s okay. My girls maybe terrorists but at least they are not facia brute—and that’s one less thing people can judge me about.