<p>A Socialist? Ah, I believe that is a new dimension. We have sons from space, sons from hell, sons with cones of silence. I am quite certain we have left-leaning sons (mine included). But a self-identified socialist? I don’t think so.</p>
<p>I know my left-leaner manages to combine the viewpoint with a capitalistic desire to make the bucks from his engineering/tinkering tendencies.</p>
<p>S2 is a half-vegetarian and a communist, having previously experimented with Judaism, Hinduism, and atheism. Not that these are all mutually exclusive. He may still be an atheist. He is only 8, so his perceptions of these ‘isms’ are not always totally accurate. For example, the month he was Jewish he didn’t eat yogurt.</p>
<p>S1 has not declared himself a socialist, but the label seems to fit his current views. He is also a “son from space.”</p>
<p>We need a multi-dimensional matrix into which we can put our male offspring.</p>
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<p>FANTASTIC!!! ELOQUENT!!! ACCURATE!!! I live in a similar town!!!</p>
<p>And Oh, Alu, you broke my heart with the Edgy Fairy!! </p>
<p>I was edgy, too, and inside I still am. I lived in the East Village! I wore combat boots and had a purple stripe in my hair! I BROKE LAWS!!! :eek: </p>
<p>Not that you’d ever guess if you saw me pushing a grocery cart at Vons… </p>
<p>Yes, yes, losing the edgy fairy is much worse than losing the pretty fairy. Hence the appeal of Burning Man…</p>
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</p>
<p>was a LOL for me!</p>
<p>PS. My S is a Talker/hugger musician vegetarian and told me he’s happier in public school than he was in private as he “feels more comfortable with middle class people.”</p>
<p>On his way to socialism?</p>
<p>alum, that was such a gem. Thank you for observing and looking. </p>
<p>I live in a town where it is mandatory to dress up to go to the grocery. Mandatory. I send DH–or slink around to the discount grocer–anything to avoid the inner conflict of putting lippy on to go to the grocery! FYI, I am presently in a state of heightened Pretty Fairy because both my toes and nails have been profesionally painted. Pretty fairy dreams are swimming in my head. Can I keep manicure appointments? :eek:</p>
<p>As for Edgy Fairy…I don’t feel separated from her. In fact, I feel a bit closer to her as I launch this massive new project and the glass ceiling comes tinkling down around me.</p>
<p>Oh my little cyber-friendies are so nice.</p>
<p>First of all, am I honored or what that Curmudgeon, the eminence grise and grizzled storyteller of CC was actually waiting for one of my posts. No, I am not kidding. Are we our own little society or what:).</p>
<p>And SBmom and cheers, I say let’s keep that Edgy Fairy going until death do us part. I have always seen myself as an old lady with white short cropped hair, black heavy framed glasses, and black cashmere turtlenecks. Sort of Gallery Owner Goes To Yoga Class…</p>
<p>And NYMomof2 your boy sounds absolutely hysterical. The month he was Jewish he didn’t eat yogurt? Classic.</p>
<p>Mythmom - The Edgy Fairy is anteing up free drinks for you. Enjoy. She tends to drink aboriginal cocktails made of fermented sorghum and colored with cochineal from little bugs…So we might slip you a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc instead.</p>
<p>SBmom, I’d say he’s partly there. You’ll know that he’s completely there when he, like S1, believes that people with boring or dangerous jobs (e.g.,Wal-mart cashier or coal miner) should make more money than people with interesting and prestigious jobs (doctor, lawyer, chairman of the board).</p>
<p>cheers, In my opinion, a woman who is demolishing the glass ceiling does not need to worry about what the town ladies think of her naked lips. Congratulations on the new project (which I will read about at some point as I make my way through several hundred pages of this thread). </p>
<p>Alumother, you are too much! Save a glass of Sauvignon Blanc for me. </p>
<p>I’d better make the acquaintance of the Edgy Fairy. I have never had a manicure, let alone a pedicure, and I have not worn lipstick since my wedding in 1980.</p>
<p>"And the associated anthropological phenomenon for the female of the species seems to be a lot of women who have as their careers being wives of rich men. And wives of rich men have a lot of time to dress up. And paint various parts of their anatomies various shades of coral. And dangle various shiny items from the parts of their anatomies that have not been painted coral. And paint everything else blonde. Or tan. "</p>
<p>Yup, I lived there once, too. One of my Ds attended UG there and is now happily ensconced in Grad school in a “crunchy-granola” area where no one sports orange skin and scads of gold chains.</p>
<p>For one very short interlude we considered moving back to this town and in touring the HS my two blonde Ds would attend, they voted thumbs down. In asking for some reasons, D said, “no, too blonde” To my response that Ds are blonde, she said, “not like that” ;)</p>
<p>NYMomof2, you have found your people. Even though some of us are blonde and wear lipstick, we would fight TO THE DEATH anyone who tried to force us to!</p>
<p>somemom’s Ds are right.
It ain’t the blonde (I’m blonde).
It ain’t the lipstick (I wear lipstick).
It’s the attitude.
I feel the need for Slugg to join in here and tell us, the faithful of the Edgy Fairy, just what is what. And BTW, m&sdad, should he pop his head in, clearly has an Edgy offspring what with the red desk and all. Sybbie’s D does upscale Edgy.</p>
<p>And so on. Anyone else want to confess that they have watched Gossip Girl AND Greek on TV?</p>
<p>No confession, sadly (although I am pretty sure the last time lipstick touched me was in 1974, except for stage makeup). But I do have a story to relay, concerning TFSFH (who turned 18 on Friday, w00t !). Before leaving home in Aug., this child would have told anyone who would listen what a stupid, ridiculous sport football was. I’m talking active scorn and disdain. </p>
<p>Cut to this past weekend. </p>
<p>“Anything planned for this afternoon?” says the mother. (YES!!! HE CALLED AGAIN!!!)</p>
<p>“Oh, not too much. We called out for Chinese food and we’re hanging out in the common room, doing the rest of our homework during the commercials.”</p>
<p>“Commercials?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we’re all watching football. There are like five games on today!”</p>
<p>("… ")</p>
<p>He later confessed in an IM, “Well it was pretty boring, but loud, and kind of fun. I mostly got to cheer for the 49ers. This might sound weird but it kind of helped my small shadow of homesickness.”</p>
<p>(altogether now) Awwwwwwww…</p>
<p>So I guess he’s both learning how to blend in with the guys, and finding socially acceptable ways to admit to his mom that he’s a little homesick. (Plus he called yesterday to insist that the next CARE package just <em>MUST</em> include several loaves of sourdough bread and dried pears from the farmer’s market. Which spells just a little bit of h-o-m-e-s-i-c-k-n-e-s-s to me.)</p>
<p>(Oh yeah: he also told me that the other guys sneak in when someone’s off at class and change the homepage on the computer in their rooms to something more… explicit, shall we say. “But they don’t do that to me, I’m kind of the peace maker around here. Like everyone trusts me to make sure no one draws anatomical parts on their faces with markers while they’re asleep.” Um… ok then.)</p>
<p>Alum: I was very impressed the inimitable Curm was awaiting your post, guess that means you’ve made it! You’re in the really cool crowd 
now</p>
<p>I have a friend from a small town area whose DH is in big biz and they are currently living in a blonde town; it is my responsibility to alert her if she begins to morph too much that way- she can blend with them, but not take it on and live it or believe it. The spray on tan almost did it, but since she does not have acrylic nails and it was a one time tan, she is still hanging on to real life by an unmanicured fingernail ;)</p>
<p>Spent last week in NYC with my sister. She was on a buying trip for her business. Normally I feel pretty good about myself. But after going to one showroom and then spending the rest of the day at one of the fashion trade shows I did feel the country bumpkin. The best was when she told one of the reps that we were her sisters the woman made the comment. Oh, I didn’t think they were in the business! We also weren’t fashionable enough to be able be passed off as legit to get into the Couture Show.
Oh and it case you didn’t know the correct term is handbag not purse or pocketbook. (Did you know that there are woman out there who regularly purchase handbags that cost up to $1000) If I saw another purse by the time I left there I was going to scream.</p>
<p>Thought I would chime in----looks like a good spot for moms of sons to
empathize with one another—building on the fashion note</p>
<p>S1 is a freshman at a somewhat preppy LAC in Maine. He is not preppy at all and can usually be found sporting baggy silk shorts, a backwards redsox baseball camp, and a basketball jersey—this way he can show off the awful tatoo on his arm that he got himself when he turned 18—when helping him move in S2 commented about his older brother—“Gee mom, no one looks like him around here?”</p>
<p>Now one month out he has made good friends, is busy and possibly enjoying the social life a bit too much</p>
<p>AWWWWWW…</p>
<p>sounds like he has good taste in things to miss.</p>
<p>" … my small shadow of homesickness" - mootmom, I would call that near-poetry. And I’d love a care package with sourdough bread and dried pears, too!</p>
<p>Momof2sons, my sympathies on the tattoo! Can you say here what it is of? I made both my sons promise me not to tattoo or pierce any parts of their bodies. I’m hoping that tattoos and body piercings are out of style by the time they are old enough to get them; I have more faith in that as a preventative than the promise to me.</p>
<p>I wear lipstick (or at least gloss with colors), but the last time I wore high heels was September 1984. I’d love to say I consort with the edgy fairy, but truthfully I consort will the veggie-granola fairy. (Not that I eat like one, I just dress like one when not around clients.)</p>
<p>mathmom, “veggie-granola” would be a step up for my wardrobe.</p>
<p>NYMomof2:</p>
<p>The tattoo is a large Celtic Cross (black and green) with “trust in God” written in Gaelic.
I guess I rationalize not hating it too much as is cannot be seen when he wears a short sleeve shirt and he feels quite strongly this makes a statement about his heritage and faith. He also spent alot of time researching how to write “trust in God” in Gaelic</p>
<p>If this is as bad as it gets then I guess I am ok :)</p>
<p>I, too, live in the land of the spray on tan and well manicured nails. Unfortunately, my S’s also go to an independent school where there are hordes of parents who fit the bill. (Don’t get me wrong, the school is great, it’s the parents who make me shudder.) I often (how about always?) feel underdressed when I attend any school evening/event. No manicure, ever, no pedicure, ever, no lipstick, ever. I guess I have just reached the age where I finally don’t really give a rat’s *ss what the rest of them think.</p>
<p>Cheers, one of my college roommates also lives in a town where the ladies dress to go to the grocery. She told me that she would NEVER go to the supermarket dressed in jeans. Excuse me? The only time I’m not wearing jeans to the supermarket is when I’m wearing shorts.</p>
<p>As for the sons…S#1 is just starting graduate school and living in an apt. We did the Bed, Bath and Beyond run in our local store, and then had the stuff he picked out shipped out to his new location. Can you imagine walking through the kitchen gadgets aisle and your kid says to you, “Excellent! A lemon zester! I need one!” I pointed out that I didn’t own a lemon zester and was quite the accomplished cook. “I need a garlic press,” he exclaimed. "I’ll show you a garlic press! " I said. “You pick up a chef’s knife and smash it flat side down on the clove of garlic.” He was unimpressed with my demonstration. Imagine the chuckle I got when S#1 called H and happened to mention that he had ripped up his finger using the lemon zester. “Good thing we picked up those bandaids and Bacitracin,” I replied. Then I walked into his “abandoned” bedroom at home and looked at his desk which he promised to clean this summer before he left for his new permanent home. There sat the same mounds of papers which have been sitting there and accumulating since 7th grade. I still miss him.</p>