It's Not My Fault ... Really

There was a time — oh, fifteen years ago or so — when I was in control. Not really, of course, but significantly more in control that I am now. It was up to me to take care of my toddler daughter. I chose what she wore, what she ate, when she slept, what we did together on the weekends. It was all about her, but it was all organized by me.

As the mother of a teenager, I don't get a whole lot of appreciation. But, in all honesty, there wasn't much appreciation back when she was little either. She was happy and healthy so I knew I was doing a good job. And, I got hand-drawn love notes on Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and my birthday.

Best of all, I was never to blame.

These days, I am to blame for ... well ... pretty much everything. My bad decisions, my lame rules, the weather. Yep, pretty much everything.

For the record, your honor, following is a list of recent crimes against the adolescent, for which I (apparently) can be, but (definitely) should not be, blamed.

It's simply not my fault.

It's not my fault that you were late leaving for work because you set your alarm clock for 7:00 pm rather than 7:00 am.

It's not my fault you can't find your old turquoise North Face jacket. It's also not my fault that I didn't realize that there are "designated stable fleeces" when I suggested you simply wear another one. (You have at least a dozen, dear.)

It's not my fault that your AP U.S. History teacher decided there was too much work for a field trip while the other AP U.S. History teacher took his class to visit the S.S. Constitution (and, adding insult to injury, took everyone for McFlurries on the way back to school — clearly nothing says early American history like Mickey D's).

It's not my fault that one of your favorite bands is coming to town (YES!) and they're playing at an over-21 club (NO!).

It's not my fault that the people who built our house in 1830 didn't anticipate your need for 8 pairs of boots and 4 pairs of Converse and a closet to accommodate them.

It's not my fault that two of your BFFs couldn't go to Laser Quest with you last night after all because their respective parents made them stay home and babysit their respective siblings.

It's not my fault that the third season of Dance Moms isn't available on Netflix or Amazon Prime and that when you found it online the WiFi was buggy and the streaming video was not streaming. (See note above regarding the age of our home — we're fortunate to have indoor plumbing much less reliable wireless.)

I could continue.

My daughter plans to pursue an equine studies business major (yes, that does really exist — who knew?). But, I've asserted for years that she should really be a lawyer. She has a sense of justice beyond the laws of man or nature. She has an unfailing memory for past slights (and anticipated future wrongs). And she has the ability to argue her case, passionately, regardless of rules, evidence or even common sense.

I rarely win these arguments because what my daughter does not seem to have is a willingness to admit defeat. 

Still, on the counts listed above (and countless more), I have to plead "Not guilty, your honor."

Now, if I can just find that North Face jacket, maybe I can get time off for good behavior ...

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Have it Your Way

When I was a tween, growing up in New York City in the1970s, there was a novelty store in my neighborhood where they made custom tee shirts. It was an old-fashioned and 100% analog process. You basically chose the color you wanted and the iron-on transfer you wanted and any additional letters you wanted. There was a big, heavy press behind the cash register and the salesperson slipped your tee shirt over a flat form, positioned the artwork you'd selected and brought the hot cover down onto it all like a gigantic waffle iron.

Using babysitting money, I made three tee shirts there while I was in eighth grade. One was actually kind of cool: black shirt with cap sleeves and my name in glittery art deco letters. (I am sorry to report that the other two included a photo of the sweathogs from Welcome Back Kotter and a picture of Fonzie. For the record, my taste in tee shirts has improved with time.)

We talk a lot about tween and teen communication in the digital age. But online living and the infinite individualization that it offers have changed how kids today shop too. In 1976, making a custom tee shirt was really cool (even if your artistic choices were not so much). Today, with websites like zazzle and inktastic it's commonplace. And, tee shirts are only the tip of the design-it-yourself iceberg.

Kids can self-publish books, uploading their own photos and text and receiving a bound hardcover volume by mail a few days later. Why waste time printing and sorting through pictures, then pasting them into an album? That's so 20th century.

They can build a music playlist with the songs they like (and only the songs they like). I remember buying records because of one top-of-the-charts hit and realizing ($3.69 later — Cheap Records, Lexington and 58th street) that I should have bought the 45. (Am I dating myself now or what?!?)

Tweens can create avatars, digital personas that look like enhanced anime versions of themselves. They can design their own backpack at L.L. Bean's website. And, younger girls can build their own Muppet online at FAO Schwartz or a customized doll at americangirl.com.

Automated custom manufacturing. It's an interesting phenomenon, especially with regard to tweens and teens. Here we have a demographic group that is absolutely determined to look and act and consume exactly like each other. Yet, they have embraced technology built on the idea that everything you wear should and can be a one-of-a-kind original. Computer-aided couture.

And, like pretty much everything else in their lives, it all happens on a laptop, a tablet or — more and more often — on their mobile phone. Wow.

Lately, my daughter and some of her friends have been designing their own footwear at converse.com. For a small fee (okay, for a pretty big fee — $67 for basic Chuck Taylor All Stars, yikes), you can create a pair of completely customized sneakers. Everything from laces to lining, exterior panels of fabric, sole and even eyelets is up to you. Your unique Converse footwear can be as crazy and colorful as you want it to be. In theory, no one else at your middle school (or maybe anywhere in the world!) will have the same exact shoes. I repeat ... Wow.

The online experience is fun and engaging, and as a mother I'm glad that my daughter is flexing her artistic muscles. It takes a little of the sting out of the ongoing struggle we have about wearing what everybody else is wearing.

But, it's still too much to pay for canvas shoes, don't you think?

Even more than the vintage Fonzie tee shirt I just found on eBay.