Am I Turning into My Mother? Part 1. {Nike is Driving Me to the Poor House.}

Let me set the scene.... it was 1985-ish... Michael Jackson was going to be my husband [Billie Jean was NOT his lover], my spiral perm was fresh [my hair is thick.... spiral perm was awesome], my preppy handbook said my name was Tiffy, and I really wanted Guess jeans. I can remember wanting them so bad. I can still picture how they were hung on the rack against the white wall at Marshall Fields that backed up to the escalator. Facing forward. Lit up like heaven had shined upon them.

ME: Mom, I like totally really want this one pair of jeans...

MOM: What jeans?

ME: Guess. They are totally rad.

MOM: Jordache? Sergio Valente?

ME: No. Guess jeans.

MOM: Levis?

ME: Levis? Gag me with a spoon.

This is kind of how it went with my mother. So I took her to Marshall Fields and showed her the jeans. I could pretty much talk my mom into most things over time so I was sure I would go home with those jeans. I had the outfit for school on Monday picked out in my head - I had this super cute purple Forenza sweater I planned to wear with them. I can, to this day, remember how it felt to want those jeans so bad. And I can remember, to this day, how it felt to go home without that $50 pair of jeans.

MOM: $50 for a pair of jeans?

ME: *tears well in eyes*

MOM: No way.

My mom was the mom who bought the IZOD shirts at garage sales and took the alligator off and sewed it on my polo shirts from JC Penneys. You know your mom did that, too. Oh she didn't? Whatever. But I knew, deep in my heart, she was planning on buying those jeans that way and taking the triangle patch off the back and sewing it on my jeans from Kohls or wherever.

I never did get the Guess jeans that year.

So here we are, like 15 (*cough25cough*) years later, and I actually said these words. Out loud. To my totally rad pre-teenager.

"$12.00 for one pair of socks? That you will put a hole in in a month?"

These socks.

There is no way to fake these socks but I'm not going to lie. I did think about it. And I have some pretty strong feelings on this sock look the boys are going for these days.

This is the look I am referring to:

And here are my thoughts:

1. Boys. Socks pulled halfway up to your knees with slides [people over 40: slides are the current day version of the flip flops the soccer players used to wear so they didn't ruin their cleats] or tennis shoes [people from the south: tennis shoes are sneakers] is a look you will regret in 20 years. Your future children will make fun of you the way we make fun of my dad for wearing socks with his sandals.

Sidenote: There are no looks I regret.

*slowly creeps out of room*

2. I am already getting ripped off by Nike when I pay $19 for a 3 pack of black socks. That are the wrong socks. (Refer to above picture for wrong socks)

(2 1/2. I know you are still thinking about my big hair and, well, yeah, that's Bill Rancic and me at a date party. We were married. Watch out Giuliana.)

3. How are socks sick? "These socks are sick, mom." Do they have anything contagious I wonder?

[Here I am going to digress. I like to think of myself as a pretty cool and hip mom. Saying I am a hip mom does not make me cool OR hip. It makes me old. I don't get why things are sick or phat or beast. I mean, I *get* it ..... I just think it's stupid. I got swag, I am phat but not fat, my jeans are sick (now that I pay for them myself) and my personality is beast. Word.]

4. Who decided these socks were cool? The ones you had to have. Did some 12 year old mother f-er walk into Dick's Sporting Goods and find the most expensive pair of socks and say these are the socks that are cool and I will tell the world (probably via Twitter because I don't twitter and wouldn't know if this happened) that they are the only socks that are cool and if you don't wear these specific socks, you are a total douche. (Douche is a cool word for dork. For realz yo.)

5. TRUTH: I am going to buy these socks. And I am going to go broke buying these socks. The younger two will have to forgo braces because I will have spent all that money on socks.

6. These socks better not disappear in the washer/dryer like all the other socks do. Or, for $12 per pair, they better come with some sort of tracking device. Like a find my iSock™ app or something. (I don't think iSock™ is trademarked but if it's not, I'm going to invent it so I put that there to protect me. What?)

All I know is that raising kids in today's age really socks. It's really hard to draw the line (onthebackofthesock) in what they can or cannot have. I guess socks are the least of my problem and I should be thankful ..... he'll probably be asking for a corvette when he turns 16.

Um, no.