My (Really Super) Sweet Sixteen

My daughter turned 16 this weekend. Aside from wondering how we got here (and how I can possibly be old enough to have a 16-year-old), it's made me think about the whole idea of "Sweet Sixteens."

Have you ever seen "My Super Sweet Sixteen?" Here's how MTV describes it:

"My Super Sweet 16" takes you on a wild ride behind the scenes for all the drama, surprises and over-the-top fun as teens prepare for their most important coming-of-age celebrations. Meet the kids who are determined to go all out to mark this major turning point in their lives, the parents who lavish every wish, and find out first hand what it's really like to turn 16 these days. 


I like how they use the word "really" there. Really, as in "actually," "truly," or "in all honesty." Well, I've caught bits and pieces of the show. Here's how I describe it (really):

A bunch of really spoiled teenage brats spend really exorbitant amounts of their parents' money and throw really big tantrums for the camera.

But, I digress. MTV continues:

... each week "My Super Sweet 16" will document one character's outrageous journey as they plot, plan and prep for the party to end all parties. These kids expect and will only accept the absolute best. Now, it's up to them to make sure jealous siblings, stressed out parents and school rivals don't get in the way. This series gives you an up close and very personal look at the extravagant and sometimes extreme measures teens take to ensure that this milestone in their lives is commemorated by the ultimate celebration. Will their real life Sweet 16 ever live up to their fantasies? 

Here are some of the things that the stars of this so-called "reality series" have "plotted, planned and prepped for" ...

- Brand new high-end SUVs
- Brand new high-end sportscars
- Couture evening gowns
- Couture fashion shows
- Professional make-up artists 
- Professional hairdressers
- $1,250-a-plate dinners
- Parties on yachts
- Parties at country clubs
- Parties with exotic animals
- Parties with famous bands and rappers performing 
- Silver (real silver) medallions passed out as invitations
- MP3 players (real MP3 players) passed out as invitations
- Celebrity guests passed out at the parties
- Guest of honor arriving accompanied by can-can dancers
- Guest of honor arriving by camel (with Rihanna)

Huh?

Can you understand why I'm relieved that my daughter doesn't watch this show? Sheesh!

Really (really), though, it wouldn't matter if she did. My (really super) Sweet Sixteen had other ideas for her celebration.

The weekend of her birthday coincided with a huge horse show in Vermont. Participating in the event would involve entry fees (less money, I have to assume, than a camel and Rihanna, but not insignificant), renting a horse trailer for two days, paying her coach to accompany us, renting a room at a local inn for the humans, renting a stall at the event for the horse, meals, gas, etc. etc.

"Puh-leeeeeeese," she begged us the day the event was announced (several months ago). "That's all I want for my birthday. Really."

Some teenaged girls (the ones, for example, featured in "My Super Sweet 16") might make a promise like that and then conveniently forget it when the birthday comes around. This is not the case with my daughter. She has been focused (one is tempted to say "obsessed") with all things equine since age three. She started lessons at age five. Started competing at age seven. Acquired her own horse (my husband would argue that we acquired it on her behalf) at age fourteen.

And, she's never looked back. Really.

I sometimes worry that she's a little too focused. But other mothers worry that their daughters aren't focused at all. Regardless, my daughter is willing to work very hard to pursue her passion. I can appreciate that.

And, there are virtually no boys at the stable or at these events. My husband can (really) appreciate that.

So, in conclusion (I have to wrap this up; I have a sixteen-year-old daughter — I feel really old) ... my daughter had the sweetest of Sweet Sixteens. She was doing what she loved. She worked hard and did very well. And no rap star, couture gown, overpriced entree or exotic animal could have made it any better.

Happy Sweet Sixteen, my darling daughter. I'm proud of you today and everyday. Really.

Say "Yes" to the Dress

Yesterday, we took good friends of ours out for a fancy schmancy brunch at one of our seaside town's yacht clubs. My daughter wore a dress.

This is the part of my story when the heavens separate and little animated angels and cupids flit about, joyously playing horns and harps. (Think Monty Python and the Holy Grail.)

My daughter wore a dress. "Hallelujah!"

If I had the time or inclination to write a parenting blog ten years ago, my daughter's choice of brunchwear would not have been the least bit newsworthy. Back then, she only wore dresses. In fact, she only wore pink dresses. I basically scoured sale racks and the children's department at Marshalls for any and all things pink so she'd have enough dresses to get her through preschool and playdates without my living in the laundry room. She had lacy ones and sporty ones, long ones and short ones, preppy little Ralph Lauren jumpers and over-the-top dressy numbers with Disney princesses.

All dresses, all the time. And, all — did I mention? — pink.

Just before her sixth birthday, my daughter started riding lessons. Suddenly, we were buying breeches and boots. She expanded her school wardrobe to include sweaters and pants embroidered with ponies. She wore blue jeans. As the first graders started categorizing their peers, "So-and-so's a tomboy," "Whats-her-name's a girly-girl," she became more and more sporty.

Good-bye pink; good-bye dresses.

Oh, I could still get her into an appropriately frilly Christmas outfit for annual pictures or a trip into Boston to see the Nutcracker with her grandmother. But, that was about it. The rest of the year, no way, José. The more she could look like she was going to a stable, or coming home from a stable, or actually at a stable ... the happier she was.

Then, one day a few years ago, she announced that she wasn't going to wear dresses. Anymore. At all. Ever.

In fairness, my daughter's mother (uh, yes, that would be me) practically never wears dresses or skirts either. My idea of getting dolled up is a pair of flowing black silk pants with an embroidered Asian jacket. So, I didn't really feel I could insist that she say "yes" to a dress. But, my willingness to respect her style didn't make life any easier. It's fairly simple to find elegant pantsuits for women my age. For tweens, not so much. I had to get creative: black satin jeans with a white silk blouse, velvet tracksuits with rhinestones. She was always presentable, and arguably more stylish than the other girls, I guess. But I have to confess, I missed my pink princess.

The road back to dresses took some time, and it was marked by a handful of specific milestones. For example, the year my daughter turned 13, so did most of her friends. That meant more than one opportunity to party with her homies at a local synagogue. Not only did all the girls wear dresses, but many also wore loads of makeup and extremely high heels. Happily, we embraced the dress idea (albeit reluctantly), but stopped short of completely tramping it up.

At about the same time, the other students in my daughter's riding class were turning sixteen. (Having ridden more than half her life, she's at a fairly advanced level for her age.) Most of the time, these older girls are in jodhpurs or jeans and caked in hay, if not horse crap. Suddenly, my daughter saw that they were willing to get a little glamorous. They still rode as fast and jumped as high; they were still serious horsewomen. But, they cleaned up real nice.

The final stop on our journey, was our cruise earlier in the summer with my best friend and her college-bound daughter. Under this older girl's approving eye, my daughter not only wore the dresses I'd forced her to pack, but she bought two more while we were on the trip!

So, back to our brunch. Our friends had brought their nine-year old daughter who was wearing a frilly tiered dress over a pair of leggings. She looked adorable. My daughter was in a short, flirty dress, snakeskin patterned with a ruffled skirt. It was a gift from my mother who has never accepted the "no dresses, no way, no how" edict. I had to lend her a pair of my shoes (the years-old aversion has led to a severe lack of appropriate footwear), and she also looked adorable.

So now that we have finally broken the dresscode stalemate, I'm thinking ahead to the holidays. After being denied for so long, I am eager to hit Saks or Nieman Marcus and buy the most classic party dress I can find. However, I know better. At this stage, I'm not dressing my daughter; she is quite definitely dressing herself. I can maybe, kinda, sorta point her in the right direction.

But the decision — and the dress — will be hers.