Parents: Just Playing It "Cool"

Image via Wikipedia"Your mom is so cool," I heard the child whisper. "I wish my mom was more like her."

My head grew about 50 times bigger. She was talking about me. I was the "cool mom" of whom she was speaking.

And then I immediately became suspicious: Had I allowed something that most moms wouldn't? Had I unwittingly contributed to the delinquency of a minor?

I reviewed the evening's events and, having found no glaring error, dipped my head back down to eavesdrop some more.

"My mom would never dance around the living room to Selena Gomez songs with me," she gushed.

I beamed, feeling much more secure in my "cool" status once again.

Then I peeked cautiously around the corner to see if my child was doing any eye-rolling to protest her friend's proclamation. Seeing none, I chuckled to myself, "I'm cool."

Being a parent gives us many opportunities to be the "bad guy," to be the one who has to say "no" because we want our child safe, to be the one who has to be the voice of reason, which is hardly ever "cool."

However, the truth is, even as parents, we want to be liked. We want to be the envy of every other parent on the block. We want our kids' friends to want to hang out at our house.

And I'm not going to lie, it felt really nice to think I was in the lead of the non-official parental popularity contest. Maybe, just maybe I was doing something right?

I wanted to pull my child aside and say, "See, I told you I was cool. I mean, I know you thought I was completely barbaric for not allowing your friend to come over until your chores were done. But look- it didn't turn out too badly, did it? After all, they think I'm cool."

But, I knew better. As all we "cool" parents know, part of the "cool" factor is pretending not to care whether we are indeed "cool" or not. And, I'm here to tell you, I've had my share of practice in that department.

For example, when I took the cell phone away from my child because she talked to me in "that" tone of voice, she made it all too clear to me that I was decidedly "uncool." And when I made the mistake of acknowledging that I knew her in a public place, she completely shrugged off my question of going with me to the grocery store by glaring at me, and through gritted teeth saying, "NOT COOL, Mom." I managed to walk away with my head held high, repeating to myself, "You are the parent. You are not the friend. You will not always be cool."

And yet, miracle of miracles, today I have been dubbed "cool" by her peer, her friend, her confidant. I feel victorious, and, dare I say it, "cool."

Of course, I realize parenting is not a popularity contest. And sometimes something "cool" from a kid's perspective is "bad" from a parent's. But who in the world doesn't like to be liked and recognized every once in a while? I'd be lying if I said I didn't.

For now, I will hold on to this whispered revelation with both hands. I'm sure that in a very short while, my "cool" title will be stripped from me, and I will be back to the Queen of "uncool."

But as I dance around to the Selena Gomez song, laughing with my daughter and her friend, I realize something else: I am having fun. Cool, uncool, or otherwise. And really, that's the most "cool" part of all...

When I Grow Up...

Image by sheilapic76 via Flickr
I have been so busy lately, I've been unable to write much. But I've not had any lack of material. My muses (aka: my children) have kept me jumping around and provided so much humor and poignant moments.


Last Friday I went to pick up the kids from school, like I usually do. The minivan door slid open and my youngest stuck her face in, looking worried.

"What's wrong?" I asked.


"My friends all laughed at me."

"Why, sweetie?"


Tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip poked out. "They said I couldn't be Justin Bieber's co-manager. But I told them I could because I can be anything I want to be. I'm a good dancer and I know everything there is to know about Justin Bieber. But my friends said I couldn't because I was too young. But I'm not too young, am I Mommy?"


Okay. Where do you even start with that?


"Well, um, honey-"

"You don't believe me, either!" she wailed.


"I do believe you, honey. And I believe in you." I was walking on very thin ice. "How... How would Justin Bieber know you wanted to be his co-manager?"

She stopped and looked at me. The wheels were turning. "Could I write him a letter?"


"Sure."

She was completely sunny & happy again.


Of all the things she could've said, could've been upset about- a fight over having an impossible grown-up job- right now- was not anywhere near my list.


That's one of the benefits of being a child: you don't know what you can't do, so you think you can do anything. I guess I used to be that way. But it's been a long, long time.

Maybe she will never actually be the co-manager for Justin Bieber. But I have no doubt that she will be amazing at no matter what she does.


And, she has reminded me that  I need to blog. Not just to have "stuff" on there. But also, because this is a kind of journal of my kids' childhood. And this "stuff" is just way too special to forget...

Boop Boop Be Doo

Image via WikipediaAll of my children are very creative. My eldest can make up an entire civilization and have the people/creatures live and battle. He is also an excellent artist that can draw characters to rival any comic book.

My middle child loves to make more domestic creations. She is more at home with a cookbook and a sewing pattern than many adults I know. And she has a musical ear that lets her hum beautiful melodies made up on the spot.

My youngest is still figuring it all out. She is terribly creative. But she's also impulsive. So most of her creations have to be completed in one sitting or else she loses interest. She also is very open to suggestion from movies, books, friends and television.

Her current obsession is Betty Boop. I was floored when she announced one day she wanted to redecorate her room all in Betty Boop. I had no idea she even knew who Betty Boop was. Then I discovered that an admired counselor from summer camp was a huge fan. Now almost all of my youngest daughter's projects are Betty Boop related (unless they are Justin Bieber related, which is another on-going obsession).

This morning she brought me a sock puppet. It was an old white sock (well, it was more like an earthy white, since it was an old sock) she had stuffed with tissue paper. She had cinched the top with a rubber band and stuck strings of old white yarn underneath to make hair. Then she found an old lip gloss container in the shape (and approximate size) of lips, which she secured with a rubber band.

When she presented this "puppet" to me, she proudly announced, "Momma, this is Betty Boop."

Then she asked if I would help her sew on some buttons for her eyes. I explained that it would have to be after school, since it was almost time to go. Amazingly enough, she was okay with that plan.

She followed me around with her "puppet" in hand, chattering away about the clothes she would make for it and so on. I listened and eyed the pitiful thing, wondering if there was any way to spruce it up a bit.

Then, my precious daughter said, "I would put arms on it, but then it would just look silly."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek very hard and turn away to keep from laughing and hurting her feelings. This poor sock monster looks more like a dog toy that the dog has already chewed and thrown aside. But in her mind, it was, is and will be Betty Boop.

Thank goodness for Imagination. It is, after all, the Mother of Invention.

And, I know one day her sock monsters- er, I mean, sock puppets- will be a thing of the past, and I will miss them.

But for this morning, and for now, Betty Boop's creator is probably busily rolling over in their grave at the likes of this creation. And I got a good laugh to start my day.

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