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...

Young at Heart

Image via WikipediaWhen my children were younger, they went through all the normal milestones: crawling, talking, walking, etc. I'm sure I went through them when I was young, too. The thing is- I don't remember them.

However, my children are beginning to hit the age where I have started remembering my own personal experiences. Now I have something to compare.

So begins the phrase every child hates, "When I was your age..."

"But, kids," I say, "You don't know how good you've got it." And I watch watch as they try to be respectful by suppressing the eye rolls, the involuntary twitches and the sighs.

But in truth, I don't know how my parents would have reacted to this modern-day world, where we have products never even dreamed of when I was growing up.

I grew up with a phone that had a rotary dial, a cord that stretched almost the length of the house, and no call waiting or electronic voice mail. Cell phones were only something imagined on Star Trek, and they were called "communicators."

So, how would my parents have handled cell phones? Well, if having my own phone in my own room was any indication of my communication privileges, I would say I probably wouldn't have had a cell until every last one of my classmates had one. And even then, I doubt they would have allowed the texting feature unless I paid for it.

Does that sound harsh? Well, to them it was about allowing a child to grow up slowly and not giving them access to friends 24/7. Or at least I think that's what it was about.

They were probably just feeling their way along the whole parenting thing. Just like I do today.

Our family rule now is that children are allowed a cell phone when they are 10 years old. Many would argue that is way too young. But with our busy family of five, it works for us. The unspoken rule is that "if mom calls, you had better answer."

And my kids and I use our cell phones to text and call each other. I have been able to talk more with my daughter via texts than I ever believe I would be able to face-to-face.

I know of people who have let their kids have cell phones at age 6. Now, there's no way I would do that. First of all, at 6, my kids would have lost the phone in 15 minutes flat. Secondly, what does one 6 year old really say to another?

I also know of people who wouldn't let their child have a cell phone until they were old enough to purchase it on their own. That, in itself, is not a bad plan. However, it's just not one that necessarily works for our family. But then, that's just me.

I guess a lot of my parents decisions could have been based on affordability, too. Because my kids don't have "data packages" on their phones. I don't know if they would if I could afford them or not.
But I do know that I also want to limit their access to the internet and the world (via the computer & said data package). Why? So they can maintain some of their innocence and grow up more slowly.

Besides the differences in phones, I remember growing up with a tiny closet, the ability to walk to the store six blocks over without having a parent with me and thinking how "worldly" I was because I knew people who lived in Georgia- a whole state away.

Today, my closet is probably as big as my room. I wouldn't let my child walk more than about three blocks by themselves- and they had best have their phone and text me to let me know they got there okay. And I have friends all over the world through the magic of the internet.

The point? There are many lessons I learned in my childhood that I wish for my children to learn in theirs. They may not learn them the same way I did, simply because we live in such a different world than I did growing up.

But remembering my youth helps trigger some of those all-important lessons so that I can know the approximate timing for teaching my kids. And it also gives me a place to compare and contrast to try to remember what worked on me and what didn't.

My youngest child is currently counting down the months until she turns 10. I'll be very interested to see how she handles the responsibility, and how many friends she has with whom she can actually text & talk.

I'm also anxious to see how things change in the future. I mean, my youth was great. But how can you compare a rotary phone with an iPhone? Like Billy Joel sang, "The good old days weren't always good. And tomorrow's not as bad as it seems."

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Ooma

Image via WikipediaRecently I had the privilege of helping my grandmother, whom we call Ooma, as she had an extended stay in a residential facility while my parents were out of town. She usually lives with my parents in her own little apartment off of their house. However, while mom and dad were out of town, she decided she might like to try staying in a place where she could talk to other folks her age.

Every day she was there, she appeared to have as many, if not more, visitors than the Pope. There was a constant stream of family and friends visiting with her. And she, being the ultra-extravert that she is, delighted in every moment of her visits.

In the evenings I had the unique blessing of going to help her as she prepared for bed. At 95, she is exceptionally spry mentally. However, her osteoarthritis has given her lots of physical ailments that make her occasionally need some assistance. And even though the facility staffed people to help her, I was honored to be asked to go in to provide a familiar touch.

It is beyond amazing to imagine what she has seen and been through in the last 95 years. She has been through The Great Depression, World Wars, and too many presidents to count. And she remembers it all.

I think that is one of the things I marvel at the most. I can barely remember where I parked my car when I come out of the grocery store. She can remember making root beer with her five brothers and sisters when they were young, how she and my grandfather courted, the way my father was as a boy, and my childhood and adult years.

She is so very gracious about any little thing you do for her. I would sometimes put her toothpaste back in its holder for her since it was a bit hard for her to reach. She would thank me profusely, as though I had invented toothpaste and named it after her.

My whole family got to take part in our visits. And my brother's family did, too. We even got an "adopted" member of the family in on the fun!

She is now back home with mom and dad. I know she is much more comfortable, since there is no place quite like home. But part of me will miss spending those hours with her in the evenings, as the moon was high in the sky, listening to her tell me about her day. And then, on occasion, she would delve back into time and tell me the stories of her youth. And stories about my father as he was a boy.

I know I will see her frequently at her home with mom and dad. However, I will forever cherish that time I had with her. We talked about the way the world is, and how it was. She told me about growing up and growing old. She voiced sadness over bad times. But we also laughed- a lot. 

She is a very, very special lady. And I am so honored to call her my Ooma. And I feel blessed to have my children know her, too.

I love you, Ooma.

Love,
K
xoxoxo

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I'm Weird

Image by elana's pantry via FlickrI'm weird.

I grew up in an a-typical American family: My father and mother married, then had children. They have never divorced. I rarely see them disagree. And we liked each other.

My brother nor I did drugs or ran with the wrong crowd (Okay, that last bit could be challenged, depending on who you talk to LOL). We both made good grades and had jobs in High School. Each of us married our spouses, then had children. Each of us are gainfully employed, and have happy lives.

I also like my family, and my husband's family. I don't feel like I'm discriminated against. I don't feel like the world owes me anything, or the government is out to get me. But I'm not on any kind of medication (prescription or illegal) that makes me ingenuously happy, either. I don't have a vice that is any more egregious than diet coke. I really don't drink very often. I don't smoke.

My children don't have any disabilities (other than the fact that we are their parents LOL). They are polite, well-mannered children. They get good grades and enjoy their family.

We don't "tangle" with the law. We don't have any "Oprah-worthy" events in our lives. We would never be good material for a reality show.

We go to church and have strong beliefs. But we practice tolerance and loving our neighbors.

Basically, we are "plain vanilla" in a "thirty-one flavors" kind of society. And I personally could not be happier to be plain.

The funny thing is, while diversity is promoted in the media, and abnormality is celebrated as what is the true "norm," ours is the life people want.  Pop star calamities are glitzy and make headlines. And standing up to admit our failures and shortcomings to the world is so common, it's almost passe'.

But at the end of the day, most people would rather have had a satisfying, fulfilling day of work, and come home to a loving family and a warm home.

So, yes, I'm weird. And this Thanksgiving, I give thanks to God that He made me that way. I am happy and content... and weird.

May you all have a plain, weird Thanksgiving, too!

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The Mother's Curse

Image by mollypop via Flickr
I was talking with a friend of mine the other day and we were commiserating with each other over the behavior of our children (not the good behavior, though). She is a teacher, so I run many of my ideas for encouragement and discipline by her to see if they have a snowball's chance in hell in making any kind of difference.


On this particular day, her child seemed to be winning the un-official competition of "Who Can Make Their Mother Crazy First". My friend sighed. "Sometimes I think she gets paid to make me nuts."

I sympathized. "I know. There's no way they do this stuff because they think it's okay to do it. I mean, who puts a half-eaten peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in their dirty clothes hamper for fun? I really think it's a conspiracy." Then, a thought occurred to me: "Hey, have you put 'The Mother's Curse' on her, yet?"


"What's 'The Mother's Curse'?" she asked.

I was surprised. Not only she was a mother, but she was also an educator. How could she have missed this most valuable lesson in parenting? "Oh, sister, let me tell you. It's the best thing ever. But you have to save it for the perfect time."

"Well, tell me!"she laughed.


"Okay, usually you wait for that time when your child does something so completely ridiculous that you can't imagine that they got a single gene from your side of the family, and THEN they have the nerve to look surprised when you yell at them." I hear her snort on the other end, as this is a fairly regular occurrence for both of our children. "Yeah, I know. But you have to wait until it's a BIG one.... Then, you give them "The Mother's Curse," which goes like this:

       "Honey, I must say I'm sort of amazed that you're surprised by my reaction to this. But, we'll   
        talk about that later. Right now, I just want to say," insert smile and finish sweetly, 
      "Someday I hope you have children just like you." 


"They never really know what hit them until it's much, much too late." I finish.

Hysterical peals of laughter come through my phone. "That's awesome!" my friend laughs.
Then after she interrupts her own laughter with: "Hey, wait a minute. Do you think that's what my mother did to me?"


"No, of course not," I promise her. "This all comes from our husbands' sides of the family."

We both laugh at this.

My children have all already received "The Mother's Curse." In fact, they can almost repeat it verbatim with me now.

Even though I told my friend it was our husbands' fault, I can't help but realize that I did, indeed, receive the curse as well. But that's okay. Because "The Mother's Curse" only extends to your children- not your grandchildren, as proved by my parents' relationship with my children.

So even though we're struggling through some good times and bad right now, I know that I am also rewarded by "The GrandMother's Blessing." What is "The GrandMother's Blessing," you ask?

It goes like this: "May you have more good times than bad with your children. May you hold the blessings in your heart, and may your heartaches fade with the setting sun. And, may you, after your children have moved on to the next phase of their lives, enjoy the greatest gift of all: grandchildren."


So, I wish you all "The GrandMother's Blessing," and lots of coping mechanisms, friends and laughter until you get there.


Have a great day!

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