The Boys Are Back in Town

And there is always the back to school clothes shopping haranguing experience.

First, the boy.

The sneakers must be high-end and noticeable. (Hello, Outlet Mall?) I manage to get him to buy into a mid-range pair of Nikes in the outrageous colors of his school. (Crimson and Gold, Thy praise we'll ever sing....) That way, when he wears his gym uniform, his sneaks match. Because if he had the ones he'd first eye-balled, in the colors of the Minnesota Vikings, on Gym Day he'd look like he was auditioning for the Comic Section of the Mummers at the New Year's Day Parade.

And the shirts. They must all be T-shirts. No golf shirts, or rugby shirts or (clutch the pearls!) button down shirts. T-shirts. The more irreverent the logo the better. Another parent actually chuckles as I try to explain the Nike shirt that reads "My 'swoosh' is bigger than your 'swoosh' and why it will get Mommy called into the Principal's office if he wears it.

We are at a skater store looking at cool and unnecessary gear. My son wants a rubber bracelet a la WWJD and Livestrong, both of which I think have their place in the American social cause psyche. But this rubber bracelet, which he, in a very practiced defense, claims to be oh-so-very supportive of breast cancer awareness (hello, you're in 7th grade) reads:

"I heart Boobies"

Really? Will you be accessorizing that with the pink ribbon pin I just paid $5 for at the mall because I am sure the minute I don't donate is the minute the breast cancer whammy comes to get me???

He claims that the kids flip it around so that some other innocuous message can be read by little old ladies and priests and college admissions officers the world over.

Does he really think I am that dumb?

"Mom, Dad said I could get it!" he argues.

Honey, Daddy is lost in a haze of alcohol and prescription pain meds, and if you told him you wanted to wear Daisy Dukes and Manolo heels to school he'd nod and say you should live your dream, like his pathetic, self absorbed mother never allowed him to do.

I Mom up and refuse the rubber bracelet claiming that I don't give one good God damn what other kids wear, and their mothers obviously don't care about them either.

My God we've been at the mall for less than an hour. I need a chardonnay and an energy drink to get me through what my daughter has in store for me.