Tuesday, August 18, 2015

I Used to be Cool...

yeah, i'm cool...
I do a lot of reminiscing. That’s mostly because life just goes by so fast and it feels like yesterday I was only a kid myself. But no in truth, I am a 30-something year old married mom of two (and by 30-something I mean in my 30s, one of those numbers because I really can’t remember which one and all I know is that every time someone asks me my age, I start with twent...and then realize nope, wrong decade!) Wishful thinking? Maybe…?

Inevitably, after you get married, buy a home, and start having kids, life definitely changes. 
You’re no longer buying new shoes, endless clothes, and purses in every color but instead spending money on diapers for the kids, mulch for the yard, and hemorrhoid cream for the butt (because if you are having babies, you’re most likely also getting those too!).

The other day I was pumping up a jam from back in the day, good ol’ Wyclef with Stayin’ Alive, which served as part of the soundtrack of my life for the better part of a year. As I danced around my kitchen with a wooden spoon making my kids laugh uncontrollably while at the same time impressing them with my awesome lip syncing capabilities, I realized that yeah, I used to be cool. My beautiful daughter was bobbing her head to the beat of Wyclef and I had this instant craving to tell her just how cool her mom was.

Diarrhea of the mouth quickly arrived and I started over sharing semi-inappropriate stories trying to prove to my five year old just how cool I was.

I was so cool that back in high school I used to sing and dance on tables to this very same Wyclef song at people’s house parties. Most of the time, I was the only sober one and the craziest! Man, I loved this song! (She wasn’t impressed.)

I was so cool that I used to drive a car with no top! I zoomed around town with my hair blowing in the wind and good tunes blasting from my stereo. (She loved this one.)
on top of the eiffel tower in my signature pose

I was so cool that I once skipped out of school early and drove someone else’s car without my license! (She’s just starting kindergarten so teaching her about skipping school was not my brightest moment… luckily a fly distracted her and she missed this anecdote.)

I was so cool that in Florence, Italy, I went to a discoteca and danced on top of a speaker in front of everyone. (Again, she’s 5, not the best story to share.)

I was so cool because I lived in London during college without gramma and grampa! (She was mildly impressed with this mostly because she was probably contemplating when she’d get to be on her own and stop being harassed to clean her room.)

I was so cool because I got to travel to China, Brazil, and lots of other far away places! (She started yawning.)

I was so cool that I got to go to tons of concerts all the time with daddy. We used to drive all over the place to see amazing shows! (She definitely perked up hearing this.)

I was so cool because I got to dance in front of the Eiffel Tower, walk on the Great Wall of China, see the Colosseum in Rome, go across the Tower Bridge in London, see all the bikes in Amsterdam, hear the Pope at the Vatican, travel all over Europe on a bus with a bunch of other 20 somethings, and went to an awesome luau in Hawaii. I’ve toured Scotland, Wales, Ireland. I’ve read hundreds upon hundreds of books. I’ve seen dozens of concerts. I’ve done clubbing, bar hopping, and wine tasting. I’ve worked my way up in my career - I’m a professional! I’m a published writer! I’m married! I’m a mom! (She stopped listening five minutes ago and is playing with her baby brother.)

I was am so cool because I’m your mom. I realized I wasn’t trying to convince her anymore but myself. Yeah I did use to be cool. But I still am and not because of all I’ve done and seen but because I’m the mom of the coolest kids.

Life sure does change. I used to be a cool in a…
flashing a river in Scotland because of a superstition,
asking a hot guy “can I jump your bones” to his face,
kind of way.

I’m still that person but now I’m more of a cool,
dancing while I do the dishes,
singing into a wooden spoon,
teaching my kids how to head bang…
kind of way.

And anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think, my husband thinks, or anyone in the world thinks. My five year old thinks I’m the coolest around and to me that is all that matters.

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