Friday, January 1, 2010

pre-party preen with my tween

Quinn wanted to get a few things done Wednesday night before his big New Years Eve bash in Washington. I readily obliged, mostly because he lured me in with a request for a hair cut. I always hope he has tired of the mop and is ready to liberate his gorgeous face from all that shag. Alas, it was not to be. Instead he wanted it "shaped," so he could use his christmas gift card to Jori's. In typical tween fashion, I got about an hour's notice. It was amazing. More amazing still was the exhausting process of renting a video game for him, which required not only Todd's and my ODL numbers but blood types and the daily colour for the CIA. Seriously. It would have been easier to buy crack.

We tracked down Jody, the only stylist to whom Quinn entrusts his uber-important locks, is slightly more difficult than capturing the Loch Ness Monster. But always worth it.

Serious clink, looks no different, we're good to go:


At Jori's, the moment of truth. She was so charmed by him, they were trading awkward stories and she was laughing so hard I was surprised she was able to line up all her implements so surreptitiously:





video


Finito:


Two studs for my stud, and a group pact never to eat at Taco Bell again. Even during the Apocalypse. Also, no one could ever look good in the same picture as Jori so fuck it:


It was a great night. He was a bit apprehensive, but Jori's magnetism was not lost on him. He was really brave and we skipped away as happy as the 72 clams we shelled out. Next up, fish tacos (none for me thanks--yuck) and a quick (read: l-o-n-g) jaunt to Lloyd Center to pick up one shirt and peruse the pirate store, where Quinn slipped under the bars at closing and contemplated buying a ratted out skull hoodie for $67.00. Ahhh, how does he always have $67.00? Alas, wiser minds prevailed, once he was reminded of his existing 75 million hoodies. Not to mention starving children.

He texted me from the party last night to announce his safe arrival (a mama mandate), and then hit me baby one more time, "May I go to Comic Con in March? I have money for admission, lodging, and food." I guess, but damn, can I borrow $50.00?

He's growing up, it's as bittersweet as the cliche`. He just started shaving. (GASP! SCREAM! WHO TOOK MY BABY?) I have veto power over his appearance but I don't have any say anymore. I briefly glimpsed my little Quinny when our eyes locked during the second piercing, and I could see a tear, but he is definitely on the interstate to manhood. I should have let him go up the escalator to get an Orange Julius while I was in Barnes & Noble, 99% in eyesight, but I didn't. He'll have plenty of opportunities to depart my company, plus I needed his help not buying 375 books and another 88 must-have trinkets, though he was of zero help finding the two books I was there to buy, lol.

So yeah, I know it's customary to leave Jori's madly in love with her, but I left, and remain, madly in love with Quinn.

6 comments:

stone hunter said...

That first picture of him has Sky (the Scorpio) and Daniel (the Tiger) both lurking in that sweet DNA.
So proud of him, and you too, as you begin to understand the intensity of intimate pain and yet the glimpse of immense reward in letting go...

Mom

debe said...

go quinn! he was such a tough guy.

uvaber said...

It's nice to see a parent make sure that her son get his ears pierced the correct way. Great job! Hope he enjoys the look.

gail said...

shaving?! that was shocking, lol. i love your love for him....

Anonymous said...

so tender and bettersweet. are you sure you wnat to call your son Quinny? that's an old fashion word for pussy (not the cat).

Cheyenne said...

Anonymous-

We've always called him Quinny, and since the 'pussy' association didn't really check out directly on Google, and since it's not a part of popular vernacular, and since people are named Butch, Dick, Fanny, etc., I've decided it's okay, lol. Thanks for the comment though! :)