Papaya Mom

A fellow blogger and real life (if you count the summer of our teenaged years which I do) friend pointed me to J. Peterman Catalog and I squealed with delight.  I used to LOVE reading the catalog and dreaming of living the lives each piece embodied.  Such creativity!  Oh, an such price too.

Her dream dress is beautiful -  but it is another I am drawn to. This blouse is what Adventure Dad would probably accuse a hippie like myself to want, and although I would totally wear it (in fact, I want it too) - this dress takes the cake in my humble opinion.

And really, who can resist the wonderful write-ups that come with each item?

Sunny afternoon in Wickapogue.

(People here value their privacy. The streets don’t appear on any map. Homeowners pick their house numbers by whim.)

Just a few hundred intimate friends on hand for a good cause, canapés among the rosebushes.

Castor Swilling and Mia Culp have flown in from the coast. All the power couples have showed up—the Bagbalms, the de Kays, the Thralls, the fun-loving Audibles. There’s the cream of the Beltway too, from Justice Hardly and Secretary Spinner to the indefatigable Snapper Balding.

But it’s you, my dear, who carries the day…the first woman in the Hamptons to sell one million dollars worth of raffle tickets.

You know how to dress for these things.

Floral Silk Dress (N^o. 1865). Sleeveless, mid-calf length confection of gossamer 10mm georgette lined in silk charmeuse (satin side against your body). High Empire waist with cummerbund pleats. Decorative self-covered buttons down the front. Eight godets for full sweep and irresistible flutter.

Women’s sizes: 4 through 16.

Color: Red and Yellow Roses with Green foliage, on Beige.

Popularity: 48% [?]

Write Stuff Short Story Contest entry.

College taught you more than I could have imagined - and let me tell you I had imagined. I knew my son would love college, even when I looked into your eyes as a toddler your enjoyment of learning was evident. I spent your childhood trying not to stifle that in any way, knowing you were perfect as you were. Knowing that my job was to love you rather than to guide you into being someone you already were gave raising you a sense of joy (except for that strange year at thirteen where your hormones temporarily turned you into an alien). What could be easier than loving your own child for who he is?

That first week I worried about you. Your dorm room was shared with other children who I had no chance to monitor, get to know, have insight into. I know you told me they were not children, but let me tell you, they were. I could hear them all in the background when you called talking about their days, the telltale beeps as they texted friends, and of course the sounds of first-person-shooter video games. I raised you in a home without weapons, video games were just not something we were willing to pay for as an electronic babysitter. You begged and told me how unfair it was that you sucked so badly when you went to sleepovers, but in my own head I hoped this minor disappointment would lead you to avoid such games in the future, and more importantly guns. You did, and I was so very proud of that.

College taught you to use those study-skills I spent so much time teaching. Every semester of high school I had to hold back my excitement of what your Grandmother and I call “the fun part.” You remember it, you sat there rolling your eyes as I bought you color-coded binders, and ringed notebooks and synced your iPhone to mine so that I could keep up with any school events that you might die if I attended. Oh, that’s in bad taste.

College taught you that I’m not all that bad of a cook no matter what “strange” vegetable I’ve added to your meal. It could be worse - you’ve certainly learned that. It taught you that those CSA boxes of fresh fruits and vegetables - not annoying now when your craving fruit and all you see under the florescent is one aging banana - ha! If only you could tell me how much you appreciate me directly instead of your obvious hints towards the matter as you tell me each culinary injustice you’ve made the mistake of participating in.

Tonight, if I could have known at that moment, I’d have hoped that you chose not to get in the car with your roommates. You knew Robert had been drinking his usual beer in the dorm room on and off that afternoon, but you did not know that he never stopped when you went off to that once class. But I taught you that one beer meant no driving, no matter what and if I had known that it was facing you I would have called that very instant. I know the power of a mother’s voice to induce right-behavior even if we don’t talk about what is happening. I assume it’s like sex - you are never going to be having sex and talking to me at the same time, just never going to happen (and I think I’m quite alright with that too). So there I lay reading my book by the night light with your father’s not-so-soft nose symphony going on to my left when really I should have been there for you.

College has taught you a lot in these last few weeks, I’ve taught you more in your lifetime than college ever can. When you called to say goodnight I had no idea how close it was, the possibility of never hearing from you again. I had fallen asleep with my book propped on a pillow on my stomach and it fell to the ground when the phone startled me. On the other end a sound I never wanted to hear from your college - your tears. There were policemen at your room, they had awoken you too, they were confirming the owner of the car was not in his dorm room since the charred wreckage showed no survivors. Deans you had never met were standing in the hallway in clothes taken from a dirty pile as they responded quickly and now you were in shock, too many thousands of miles away for me to hold you.

At his funeral I sat next to you in the crisp new shirt I’d bought at the airport on my way. It was not cool to have your mother in town, but at a time like this you seemed to understand that I needed to be there for you as much as you may have needed me. Looking up at those parents in the first row - his mother shivering, his father hunched over - I once again realized how close I’d come to something my mind won’t even let me fully imagine. College has taught you a lot, it may teach you even more, but I just can’t let go of the knowledge that we are so very lucky to have a son who took our advice when it mattered most.

Popularity: 58% [?]