The Big Guy stood over my shoulder and read my to-do list:

1. Take Cat back-to-school shopping.

2. Cancel color-job with hair stylist.

“Don’t you think you should keep the appointment,” he said, eyeing the skunk stripe running through my hair.

“No need. After shopping with Cat, I won’t have enough left to color. I’ll start pulling out my hair after we dig through stacks of shorts at Old Navy, then move up to yanking out clumps when she totters down the aisle in stilettos at Pay-Less. By the time we leave Limited Too, I’ll be down to only a few strands.”

“I don’t see what’s the big deal about taking your daughter clothes shopping. It’s a chance to bond with each other and talk about your feelings. Isn’t that what you little women long to do all day?”

Just before she took the butcher knife out of my hand, Cat threw her dad “The Look.” That’s the one that says “No, you are not smarter than a fifth grader.

“Mom thinks I’m a size or two larger than I am.” Sure, all 10-year-old girls still fit into pre-school 4T clothing. So what if her pants might be a little snug. Breathing is sooo overrated.

“Besides, she’s not into cool clothes.”

Au contraire. The Contessa is a fashion maven, the envy of blue-light shoppers and clientele of posh boutiques alike.

“How can you say that? Ever since Wal-Mart rolled back its prices, I’ve been buying designer clothes. I color coordinate my wardrobe, too. I bought thongs in a half-dozen different colors.”

“Eeeewwwww,” Pinot said, overhearing me as he strolled toward the refrigerator.

“T.M.I.,” agreed Grigio, tagging closely behind his twin.

“Flip-flops! For my feet! I bought flip-flops!” What were they thinking? My little grapes must have been out in the sun too long. That’s the last time I send them all the way to the mailbox.

I don’t know where Cat gets her crazy notions. She must’ve forgotten the custom-designed mother-daughter outfits I created for us to wear at her school Christmas program this year. Her T-shirt reads “CAT…PURRFECTLY GOOD.” Mine reads “MOMMA CAT…PURRFECTLY BAD.” To dress up the shirts, we both are wearing gold velour pants with matching flip-flops and reindeer antler headbands.

“So, Miss Fashion Diva, what’s cool for back-to-school this year?”

“Tote bags instead of backpacks. I asked you to pick one up when you went to New York last month.” That’s right. Cat fed me an elaborate story about checking out hidden doors tucked down Chinatown alleys. They open into secret rooms filled with middle-class women rummaging through a cache of Louis Vuittons and Fendis. I thought she was describing an episode with those boys, Zack and Cody.

The Contessa may have missed out on back alley hot deals but she’s ahead of the game, courtesy of a plastic see-through beach bag with a map of the Caribbean Sea.

“Island motif is coming back. You’ll be ahead of the curve.”

“The bag is even educational. All the islands are identified by name and top tourist attraction,” I said, pointing out the toucan flying over Mexico and the Bob Marley character banging drums on Jamaica.

“With a little Lysol and elbow grease, you’ll get off all those dried-on gobs of sun screen. Most of them,” I said. Cat fell in love with the idea of a tropical tote. You could tell by the breeze she stirred up rushing out the room.

There is an upside to back-to-school shopping. The Contessa gets to pick up a few things for herself.

“I’ll take both red and white. Heck, throw in a new corkscrew while you’re at it. The old one is getting rusty.” It’s important to begin the school year with the right supplies.

Danielle Schaaf is the co-author of Don’t Chew Jesus! A Collection of Memorable Nun Stories. E-mail her at hauteflashcontessa@yahoo.com.