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There are times that I really do feel like The Little Old Woman Who Lived in the Shoe. I even call our little house "The Shoe". I am a stay at home mom. I do really think that was my calling. My kids are 13, 10, 10, (yes they are twins) and 5. Our life is an adventure, most times it really is a beautiful adventure.

Tuesday, 24 June 2014

That's Me "The Embarrassing Mom"


    So today's blog was going to be on my whole food zealot line.  I had a thought however that I've been calling this "Whole Food", when really whole food would not include anything processed, and well I have been using some processed ingredients, I mean not really processed like cheese or meat... I digress.  The blog plan changed this morning after a conversation with my oldest daughter.  I mean I knew this day was coming and I thought that I would be o.k. with it, but thinking about and reality are quite different, as I have discovered.
    I have always considered myself a slightly cool Mom.  My kids would have begged to differ I'm sure right from the beginning, but it is a label I self affixed and planned to keep that label for a while.  I will admit that my sister Mandy takes the "Cool Mom" title, although I'm sure that her kids would beg to differ. She bounces on the trampoline with them, plays hockey and lacrosse, knows all the cool kid lingo, and she knows the Texting short forms.  I felt like I was up to date on music, and that made me cool. That is until Gabe's friend Ryan introduced me to "Scream-O", I had no idea it existed.  I thought that I was really pushing the wild boundaries because I like Linkin Park.  It was around this time that my "Cool Mom" label began to fray around the edges ever so slightly.
    Grace ripped that "Cool Mom" label off my chest like a hot wax treatment on a bear.  Last week Grace's class went on their end of the year class trip.  They had to be at the school early and picked up later.  I was sitting waiting for her when I noticed that one of the kid's in the class's Dad's had a back pack on, exiting the bus.  Hum.  Grace got into the van.  "How was your day?  Was it fun?" a noncommittal grunt was returned.  "Hey wasn't that Maggie's Dad I saw getting off the bus?"  Another noncommittal grunt "um-hum".  "I didn't know that they needed parent volunteers."  She is still looking straight ahead... "It was on the class blog."  Silence.  My brain is processing this, knowing what the answer is, but hoping it was just an over sight.  
    There was a time when my kids thought that I was a DemiGod.  They thought that I had super powers, super strength.  If there was a class trip, they would beg me to come.  I always knew that when I climbed those grey metal stairs of the school bus for class trips I would see the same Mom faces looking back at me.  My group was the one that all of the kids wanted to be in.  I was a cool Mom.  I knew that would fall off eventually, I knew that I would begin to get stupider and more embarrassing the older the kids got, I just wasn't prepared for it to be this soon.
    "You didn't want me to go on your trip ... did you?"  I said it with a smile (perhaps a little more pretend than completely authentic).  A slightly sheepish look crosses her face.  "Maggie's Dad was the only parent that went."  The lack of words shouted out volumes.  She has reached the age where she wants independence.  I would honestly be more worried if she didn't want independence at this age, but still it's a bitter pill even knowing that it's healthier.  I knew that those giant, foul tasting health food store vitamins my Mom fed us growing up were good for me, it didn't however improve their taste.
"I wanted to go on the trip by myself".  It was at this point that my evil alter persona came out.  "You know that I am signing up for your Quebec trip next year.  I'm going to ask that you and I share a room." She became horrified.  I'm not going on her trip next year, but you have to keep them guessing.
    This morning the kids were getting ready for school.  "Hey hon,"  I shouted into my shaving husband "did you know that your oldest daughter didn't want us on her class trip?"  A deeper "hum" reaches me from the bathroom (I do wonder where Grace gets it from).  "I think she finds us embarrassing."  I say "us", but we all know that it's "She thinks I'm embarrassing".  "Well Mom" she says rolling her eyes. This eye rolling thing is becoming increasingly more prevalent in our house.  "You told my teacher that his hair was 'cute'."  I am flabbergasted.  "I told him he suited his hair like that." "No Mom, you told him it was 'cute'"  "But it looks adorable."  Her face contorts into this look of horror mixed with revulsion, and just a hint of "I might puke".  "Mom, you don't say that to teachers!"  I am still stammering "But his hair really is adorable".  I think she thinks I'm hitting on her teacher!  Her teacher who is just a kid.  "You know he's only in his thirties right Mom?"  I'm not sure how being in one's thirties makes their hair any less adorable.  It also makes it sound like I'm in my 80's.  It is at this point that I surrender. Sometimes that is all you can do is surrender.
    So here I am, "Embarrassing Mom" badge taped onto my chest, over top of the raw weeping sores where my "Cool Mom" label once was.  I have three choices at this juncture in my parenting career.

#1.  Act like nothing has changed, I call this the ostridge option.

#2.  Try to prove your coolness, by dressing the part and learning all of the cool new lingos.  I call this     the peacock option.

#3.  Embrace the Embarrassing label.  It doesn't matter what you do, I mean you are going to be embarrassing, why not have a little fun with it.  I call this the demon spawn method.

As I write this I am leaning more towards a combination of #2 and #3.  I mean if I pick option #2 I'm really picking #3.  We have all seen those idiots trying to be cool wearing the "in" clothing that even kids should not be seen in.  

     Anyway you slice it I'm now embarrassing.  My mother was embarrassing, her mother before her was embarrassing, it's a right of passage.  It's interesting that this embarrassing stage seems to coincide with the arrival of grey hair.  Coincidence, I think not.

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