If my daughter Paige’s genetic ties to me were ever in question, one would need to look no further than the fancy candy store in the next town, and keep an eye on what she gets when given the opportunity to choose something;
The rest of any given group sliding fruity gummies and truffles up to the register,
but her with her prized purchase:
A bright red packet of candy cigarettes.
Just a pack of smokes and a fire in her eleven year old eyes.
I always wanted those candy cigarettes,
but I wasn’t allowed to have them, raised in the Bible Belt.
After all, “What would people THINK?!”
Jesus loved the little children, but it was much more difficult if they pretended to smoke or made mixed tapes of Mariah Carey off of KMEL, or liked their nail polish red like “women who walk the street.”
But, oh, the desire burned inside me for them.
There was such a draw to looking like an eleven year old that had already lived a hard knock life,
who had seen a few things.
I would have loved to add a fake neck tattoo if someone would have just lent me a pen…
How I wanted to lean up against a brick building with my hair covering one eye and one bent knee,
and use the other eye to stare off into the distance while I took long, fake, dramatic drags off them,
but I guess I had to wait until I was in my 40’s and had my own mini-me’s so I could live vicariously through them.
We came to the candy shop today on the heels of ice skating at Snoopy’s Home Ice Ice Skating Rink, where I watched through the stained glass party room window as some 6 year old princess had her birthday party there.
I was transported back 35 years when I wanted the same kind of thing, but “the parties in that room were for rich kids,” I was told.
We weren’t the kind of family that reserved things.
I stood on the outside today looking in, chuckling at unfulfilled childhood fantasies and how you never actually forget them.
I told my husband he might need to plan me a Snoopy’s Home Ice 47th birthday party, but
he just laughed at me.
That’s why when Paige’s voice rang out at the candy shop asking me about those cigarettes,
“Mama, can I please get them?”
I smiled and told her an emphatic “Yes.”
Honey, live out your wildest dreams.
Catch me and her around town gleefully smoking them.
That is, if she has any left.
She powered through several of them, then explained how few she had left with,
“It’s been a stressful day.”
Frankly, I’ll be lucky if a powdered sugar smoke break is as wild as this one gets.
It could be so much worse.
I pretended a lot of shocking things as a child,
(Homeless vagrant, tragic orphan, drill sergeant, double leg amputee just to name a few)
and, actually, I think I turned out pretty OK.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
