Bartlett pears, prom and a hint of pee

It was prom this weekend, and Alison went with her friend, Corie, and a bunch of other friends. They were hilarious, so pretty, and so ready to see the back of me.

They met at the Broad Ripple Steak & Shake and went in a caravan. I took a few shots before they invited me to go back home for a date night. The best part of the evening was when she got home from the dance. She was barefoot, of course, tired and smiling. I took her little tokens -- a light ball and a candle holder with Herron High School etched into it -- made sure she took care of her dress and went back to my room only to hear her shout for me from her bathroom.

"Mom!" she cried.

When kids are little, it's possible to get tired of hearing the constant request for attention. When they get into the teenage years, the tone changes, generally containing more notes of annoyance than need. When they're sixteen-going-on-seventeen, you're just grateful they're speaking to you. I ran into the bathroom to see what tragedy had happened.

She was standing there, her dress half-off, laughing. "Look!" she said. "I have glitter in my belly-button."

Sure enough there were remnants of the prom stuck to her skin. She's still my little girl...

She's still trying to get over her latest respiratory issue, and I was worried that she'd have a coughing fit at the prom. Like I did when I was a kid (and still sometimes) Ali coughs like an 87-year-old chronic smoker. It's startling if you've never experienced it. "I don't feel bad," she'll say between gasps. "I just sound bad."

She had a few episodes as we waited at BR Nails for her mani/pedi, which may or may not have contributed to people sidling away from her. We've been going there since she was little, and the owner glanced over at her when I told him it prom night. "Already?" he asked. "I remember when she was fourth or fifth grade."

Later, his brother or cousin heard her coughing and said he suffers with the same issue. He, too, has two inhalers and has tried a lot of things. He suggested having her drink tumeric powder dissolved into water. He said it was the best thing -- the only thing -- that had worked for him. We tried it when we got home and I might have overdone it. There was orange sediment in the bottom of the glass.

She had another bout a bit ago and I tried again. Less sediment, but then again I used a teacup...


In non-prom related matters, Alison spent K-8 at Christ the King, a small Indianapolis school whose sidewalks are bordered by ornamental Bartlett Pear trees. I can't remember when she started complaining about the smell that accompanies their spring blossom, but she hasn't stopped since.

So when I was driving to pick her up the other day and I was on Talbott Street, surrounded on either side by even larger specimens of the trees, I inhaled deeply. It was warmish and I had the top own and the heat on. I was proud that I kept on the right side of the street as I kind of choked up. Ali was right. They do stink.

So when I picked her up, I meant to take her up that street. Halfway home, I remembered that I'd forgotten and told her about it and showed her the picture I'd taken.

"They're pretty, but they smell like shit," she said, giving me the side-eye to see if I'd call her on her profanity.

"Actually," I said. "I think they smell like pee."

She looked at me. "Yeah? I don't get that."

We went back and forth a little bit about which elements we detected in the air before she looked over at me and said, "I love our little arguments."

Saturday morning we were walking to BR Nails to get her a mani/pedi for the prom, returning to the pear tree discussion.

"You know that when I said they smell like, you know, I didn't mean they smell like feces," she said. "I just meant they smell bad."

I said I'd known that, but remained committed to my literal description.

"It's not really urine, though," she said.

"Maybe not throughout, but it definitely finishes with a pee smell," I said.

It was there, on the 6100 block of Compton Street we realized our descriptions of the tree aroma was strikingly similar to how Jeff describes beer and wine. In deference to the Captain, I won't repeat the rest of our walking-home chatter.

One more prom shot.... this is what I woke up to this morning. It made me laugh because it's SO Alison. She wore those boots to school. Why, I couldn't tell you. It wasn't rainy. She just likes them. It's normally her Converse sneakers, sometimes combat boots (which she considered wearing with her dress to prom. Thank you Macy's customers and staff who talked her into the shoes) sometimes shiny sneakers or more delicate boots. But Friday, it was her Bean boots.

I love her so much. She is such a complex little creature and almost always comfortable in her own skin.  No matter the occasion.

OK. Maybe a few more...