Tomorrow's Haircut

The Sienna Miller look. No hairbrush required.

Earlier this week, a phone conversation with my mom:

ME: I'm getting my hair cut on Friday. To look good for Bono.

MOM: I'm pretty sure he won't see you way up there.

ME: Sigh. I know.

MOM: He's a married man. He shouldn't be noticing.

ME: You're right. I should wear a ponytail so I don't distract him.

Moms Have Birthdays Too

Mother's Day. A few years ago.

Today is my mom's birthday.

When I was little, I wanted to be her. I skipped that whole "I wanna be a teenager" phase. I just wanted to be adult. Because my mom was an adult. I wanted to wear Mary Kay makeup. I wore shoulder pads. I went to ladies' meetings. Even to a retreat. (And then I got carsick and threw up on the ladies in the car. Yeah. You can't take the kid out of the, well, kid.)

Things haven't changed all that much. Except that long car rides no longer make me nauseous.

I'm proud to be my mother's daughter. I don't mind if people get our voices confused over the phone. Or if people who haven't seen me for decades point out that I look like her. (Better than saying, "My, you still look like a 3-year-old.") Although I was a little shocked when someone asked if I was my dad's wife. Really, people, I may like older men, but that's a little ridiculous. (Worse, someone thought I was my brother's mother. He's 21.)

We spent priceless time together last week. Sometimes it's hard to remember that great moms are daughters too. I'm so thankful for the legacy of my grandmother. And for the friendship I have with her eldest child.

I may no longer wear shoulder pads (Have you seen my shoulders? I'd look like a linebacker in drag), but I still want to be my mom when I grow up.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

Non-Moms: A Hollywood Mother's Day

Rory: One of the girls already hates me. The guys are weird.
Lorelai: Weirder than other guys?
Rory: Yeah, they kept calling me Mary.
Lorelai: You're kidding me. Wow, I can't believe they still say that.
Rory: Why? What does it mean?
Lorelai: It means like, Virgin Mary. It means they think you look like a goody-goody.
Rory: You're kidding.
Lorelai: No.
Rory: Well, what would they have called me if they thought I looked like a slut?
Lorelai: Well, they might have added a Magdalene to it.
Rory: Wow. Biblical insults. This is an advanced school.

~Gilmore Girls

Who hasn't had the above conversation with their mom?


Did you know that Lauren Graham (Lorelai) is not a mom? She was the wittiest mom is television history, but had no bratty children to practice her lines on: "I love my little circus freak."

Lorelai: Stop saying "mother" like that.
Rory: Like what?
Lorelai: Like there should be another word after it.

Equally interesting to me (and probably no one else), is that Bonnie Hunt doesn't have kids either. She's like the cinematic everymom, super-approachable and effortless to love. She does so well with the frenzy and the chaos, the juggling of huge family, career and dog. Beethoven, Cheaper By the Dozen, Life with Bonnie. It's all an act. I suppose that makes her an actor. I'm both impressed and slightly saddened. Not that I know her. But I think she'd be a cool mom.

Every once in a while, I think quietly to myself, "I wish I were Bonnie Hunt." Just a little career crush. Love her approachability. And smarts. And hilarity. And fictional marriage to Steve Martin (who also has no children. Weirdness). Plus, she was in Rain Man. I want to be in Rain Man. With a pre-crazy Cruise and an always-genius Hoffman.


Do you know who is a mom? (Dumbest question ever, considering my picture-posting habits.) Susan Sarandon. Do you know where I'm going with this post? Check out my little entry on this über-cool mom just in time for Mother's Day over at MovieZen.

And then rent Little Women.

Adolescent Nostalgia

Legislated Nostalgia:
To force a body of people to have memories they do not
actually possess: "How can I be a part of the 1960s generation when I
don't even remember any of it?"
-- Douglas Coupland, Generation X

My grandmother recently found cards from my mom's 16th birthday. Inside one were the most hilarious prose I've ever read. Because you know that they were written in all seriousness. Maybe times have changed after all. I don't remember envying 17-year-olds' "smoothness."

This is what it said. Capitalization for emphasis is not mine. It's all in the card.

WHAT IS SIXTEEN?

It's a time for looking young, feeling grown-up and being yourself. You can fuss with your hair for hours, spend endless moments over your choice of lipstick, and then go for a long walk in the rain bareheaded simply because you feel like it. You can like record collections, long telephone conversations and BOYS as intensely as you dislike clean sneakers, hanging up and your clothes and bring different from the rest of the crowd.

It's a time for wisdom of a very special kind. For learning the latest slang, the newest dance steps and how to read in the most uncomfortable-looking position.

It's a time for storing memories, the kind that the wilted corsage and the crumpled dance program will always help you to recall. You might have trouble remembering history dates, but you won't forget the date with the cute boy in your history class. You'll be reminded of how your head was in the clouds when he asked you, and how your heart was in your throat before he arrived. But afterwards it will be another happy memory added and another dream begun.

For SIXTEEN is a time for dream; that's part of its special sweetness. There'll be dreams of being famous, of writing a lovely poem, painting a gorgeous sunset, holding a theater audience spellbound. You might envy SEVENTEEN her poise and dream of having her smoothness, but don't forget that SIXTEEN is a magic age that is meant to be lived with eagerness and to be remembered with delight.

I also found this online. It's a reproduction of my mom's paper dolls I used to play with. I'm going to buy this one day. Maybe turn it into an art project of some sort. Retro movie-star cut-out fashions on my wall could be über-chic. And nostalgic.

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And there's this photo. A friend and I are each going to order one. I owned that dress. My last girlie vintage retrospective of the day:

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