Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Definitely Not Too Cool for School

I came to a disturbing realization this past Saturday at 4:03 p.m., and here it is: I am no longer cool. Just using the word "cool" means I'm not cool.

Here's how this all came down. On Saturday afternoon I had a brief conversation with my summer referee/chauffeur/lunch maker/clothing folder, a.k.a. baby sitter (Juliana). Truth be told, I barely know this young woman. I shook her hand once in church, but that's about it. She came highly recommended, however, and I figure if she's one of our church girls she must be okay. Really, if you're a bank robber, terrorist, or serial killer and you go to our church, I'll probably hire you without a second thought. But I digress.

During this brief conversation in which I asked Juliana about her recent 2 1/2 week long trip to Europe (must be nice), I thought I was being my usual charming and funny self.  Quick witted, relatable, cool.  And yet, as sweet as this young woman seems to be, and how she kindly laughed at all the right times, I hung up with the distinct impression that I am, in fact, no longer cool or relatable. In fact, I've become someone you humor by nodding, smiling, and walking away thinking, "what the hell was that?" Basically, I'm your great aunt Josephine.

This is particularly painful for me given that I only recently admitted that I am no longer a college student. But even though I confessed to being past my prime where hooking up, keggers, and all nighters are concerned, I still thought I was very cool. In fact, I had every intention of being the mom all the kids think is awesome:.
"Abby, you're so lucky. I wish I had your mom. She's way cool and so funny and has great hair."
"Wow, Ian, your mom is hot and really fun. Let's hang out at your house!"
But, the reality is that they're thinking:
"It's sad how your mom tries so hard to be relevant and entertaining. You must be embarrassed, dude. Want to hang at my house?"
 "Abby, does your mom know those clothes went out of style like, decades ago? And geez, why doesn't she color her hair more often? And why is she always nagging you about your bedroom? Tell her to chill already."
I should have known this was coming. I've been watching my husband try to be cool with kids for years, and I've been embarrassed for him. Sorry, to tell you this way, hon. He attempts to work his charm on the little kiddies and even they don't seem to find him amusing. The older ones just ignore him altogether. I personally have no interest in engaging the young uns, but I thought I had it going on where tweens and teens are concerned.

I have no idea what to do with this newfound realization. Do I dye my hair more frequently, update my wardrobe, read tween and teen blogs to get the lingo down? Or do I just keep quiet and hope I'm not embarrassing my kids too much? You know how much I struggle with keeping quiet.

Advice, anyone?

4 comments:

Emily said...

Uh - I think you are PROJECTING here. My kids think you and Rob are both cool -- or at least tolerable -- which is the best any of us can hope for. Spit my water out when you said you were your great aunt josephine. The ability to do that makes you very cool.

Rob said...

Kids totally dig me - totally.

Anonymous said...

Be yourself!!! You'll drive yourself nuts trying to please everyone!

Christine said...

My best advice is to be genuine. Better to be real and uncool than a fake. Kids identify a fake faster than an appraiser from the Antique Road Show (the reference shows you just how cool I am). But if you are yourself with weirdness and bad clothes and all, they do come around. And you will start to hear as the kids get older, "my friend So and So loves you!" Typically that friend is a little geeky with a sense of humor that lines up with your own, but as long as that friend is a friend of your child, score it a victory. And remember the perils of really being a cool parent. As they get older you will have to decide if you really want to dress in a micro mini and buy them beer for their parties. Forget about cool. Embrace the mean, totally lame parent within and rejoice in your independence from youthful expectations!