I'm a Loser
I am. Just ask my son. Well, he might not say I'm a loser. He'll say I'm weird. Embarrassing. Awkward. Dorky. Uncool.
I used to be cool. I'm still cool. To a 6 year old girl. Not to an 11 year old male. To 11 year old males- I'm totally the opposite of cool.
But Doug's cool. Like- cooler than cool.
I can't figure it out. Doug is hypercritical of Andrew. He nags him . . . loudly. He's bossy and he micromanages Andrew. All things that drive Andrew crazy and yet . . . he's the cool one. (Of course, I'm the parent drinking a drink he fixed to take to school- and forgot, and eating some Christmas candy that he hasn't eaten yet. Chill out- it's January 13. I mean- it's like 20 days ago. That's my cut off and then I'm eating it. It sat in the pantry at eye level for 20 days. Not anymore.)
Last night, as we were leaving a baseball workout- I waved to one of his friends, "Mom! What are you doing?!" Let me just say- I didn't wave like a goof. It was a perfectly acceptable wave. I didn't call out to the kid. I was approximately 20 feet away. I put my hand up, gave a hand wave, in a medium back and forth speed. I wasn't wearing a weird costume- just jeans and a solid colored shirt.I didn't have food in my teeth, my make up wasn't weird. Even if I smelled (which I didn't- I showered that morning and applied deodorant), I was too far away- the kid wouldn't have known.
I'm not allowed to do any of the things I love. Anything cool/fun to me is not cool and fun to him. I can't sing along with songs in the car. Nor can I make up new lyrics to songs. (and I just want you to know- I am amazing at that. Just ask my first period. I sang them a song to Adele's "Hello." It was all about how they should look at the book for help first- and if they still couldn't figure it out- ask me. Those sound like amazing lyrics. My class "loved" it. They cheered for me (because I stopped.) I can't dance to any songs I hear- in my car or in my house (I don't dance in public). I can't make bad puns or nerdy jokes. They're embarrassing. Pretty much if I'm just sitting silently, calmly, wearing normal clothes, with my hair washed and fixed, and a usual amount of make up . . . it's still embarrassing.
So . . . here's the moral. Friends, with your young boys. Live it up. You're cool. You're hip. You got it going on. Work it sisters, because in a short time adolescence will happen and you'll only be cool to you and your friends.
I used to be cool. I'm still cool. To a 6 year old girl. Not to an 11 year old male. To 11 year old males- I'm totally the opposite of cool.
But Doug's cool. Like- cooler than cool.
I can't figure it out. Doug is hypercritical of Andrew. He nags him . . . loudly. He's bossy and he micromanages Andrew. All things that drive Andrew crazy and yet . . . he's the cool one. (Of course, I'm the parent drinking a drink he fixed to take to school- and forgot, and eating some Christmas candy that he hasn't eaten yet. Chill out- it's January 13. I mean- it's like 20 days ago. That's my cut off and then I'm eating it. It sat in the pantry at eye level for 20 days. Not anymore.)
Last night, as we were leaving a baseball workout- I waved to one of his friends, "Mom! What are you doing?!" Let me just say- I didn't wave like a goof. It was a perfectly acceptable wave. I didn't call out to the kid. I was approximately 20 feet away. I put my hand up, gave a hand wave, in a medium back and forth speed. I wasn't wearing a weird costume- just jeans and a solid colored shirt.I didn't have food in my teeth, my make up wasn't weird. Even if I smelled (which I didn't- I showered that morning and applied deodorant), I was too far away- the kid wouldn't have known.
I'm not allowed to do any of the things I love. Anything cool/fun to me is not cool and fun to him. I can't sing along with songs in the car. Nor can I make up new lyrics to songs. (and I just want you to know- I am amazing at that. Just ask my first period. I sang them a song to Adele's "Hello." It was all about how they should look at the book for help first- and if they still couldn't figure it out- ask me. Those sound like amazing lyrics. My class "loved" it. They cheered for me (because I stopped.) I can't dance to any songs I hear- in my car or in my house (I don't dance in public). I can't make bad puns or nerdy jokes. They're embarrassing. Pretty much if I'm just sitting silently, calmly, wearing normal clothes, with my hair washed and fixed, and a usual amount of make up . . . it's still embarrassing.
So . . . here's the moral. Friends, with your young boys. Live it up. You're cool. You're hip. You got it going on. Work it sisters, because in a short time adolescence will happen and you'll only be cool to you and your friends.
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