As for my son, he still wants to share all his FASCINATING stories about his Pokemon collection or the new game that is coming out for Playstation. Am I wrong to assume that in a few years (literally a few!) he is probably not going to want to divulge ANYTHING to me about his life in any way, shape, or form? Not to mention the fact that he begs me to come play with him in his room now, but in a few years I will be forbidden to enter his sanctuary of boyish secrets. Yikes -- I am having visions of finding Playboy under his bed and him blushing at me folding his underwear. I don't think I can handle it. I guess I have to try to appreciate the information and company now while I am still receiving it, because in the blink of an eye, it will be gone.
Right now my kids think I am pretty cool. My 16-year-old sister, not so much.
This made me realize, oh so sadly, that in a few years, my kids are going to think I am (gulp) UNCOOL! This is devastating to me, for I have always prided myself on being pretty hip, always having my finger on the pulse of what is cool in today's society. Yes, I do like show tunes and occasionally belt out with 'N Sync when they come on the radio -- and I still think that The New Kids on the Block were pretty damn cool and highly underrated -- but that doesn't mean I am a completely hopeless case of the lame-o mommies, does it?
Right now my 2-year-old daughter thinks it is uber-cool to dance with me to various artists ranging from Raffi to David Bowie, and loves when I sing in the car. I will admit, I am a pretty good singer, so who could blame her, right? But I can foresee the day in the not-so-far away future when she dreads hearing my beautiful tones and says "Mom, you are SO embarrassing." Also, I deeply cherish our snuggling time on the couch, and can spend an hour just running my fingers through her hair or stroking her cheek (ahhhh... just thinking about it gives me the warm n' fuzzies). But someday, when she is floating amidst a sea of hormones and peer pressure, she may (I can barely even type it) PULL AWAY from me when I try to hug her or blush with humiliation when I brush her hair out of her face. She is my best buddy, my little angel, my snuggle bug, but someday she will be a teenager, and will she still want to hang out with me?