Feelin’ Pretty Cool tyvm

Monday evening I spent two hours at a very emotional basketball playoff—my son’s last ditch effort to win and move on. Sadly, that win didn’t happen because they got their butts handed to them. Not one man on his team was on their game and when they realized that…they started to have fun! Glad basketball is over and we can move on to baseball which will be the thing that moves Liam out of my house and in to college…bring it on!!!

Sitting on the bleachers next to me was a very lovely teenage girl (whom I know well). She told me I was “cool.” Not the first time I’ve heard that from my son’s set (or my daughter’s either), but hearing her say that gave me a warm fuzzy.

YES! I’m cool! (pump fist).

What makes someone my age “cool” to the kids? Is it the way I dress? If jeans, sweats, UGGs or flip flops make me cool…that’s easy! Is it the big car with heated seats? Once, one of the girls in my son’s friend circle told me she liked how I smelled…hmm….ok. Thanks. Does my perfume make me cool?

Is it the wild and wacky dancing in the rain with kids in their skivvies? That was fun and very cool.

Is it because my head stays attached to my shoulders and I simply sigh heavily when I hear swear words and trash talk coming from the next room or the back seat? (I don’t condone it, but it’s not the mountain to die on either).

I must be cool because my kids still tell me everything (well, nearly) and so do their friends. That will change, I’m sure, but for now I probably have Too Much Information and I will protect that.

“It’s cause you’re the warm, fuzzy, squishy cool mom…that’s why our friends tell you everything.”

See…I’m cool, man!

I’ve been sucked in by some of the music my kids listen to….loving Owl City and Lady Gaga (um, yes). Now it’s my job to convince them that the Grateful Dead, Elton John and The Who are cool too. But can’t wait to take Erin to her first concert in a few weeks….TRAIN!!! We’re there babes! “Hey Soul, Sister!”

At the basketball game Monday night I was texting Liam’s best friend. (This is the boy I refer to as “Son #3”. Our house is his second home and vice versa for Liam. I treat him as I do my own.) He was sitting far away from me with the opposing team’s cheering section, so I decided to text him and tell him off for being on the wrong side of the gym. And, I just like messing with him.

Me: “I can c u. Sitting with the enemy.”
#3: “LOL Mrs. G, he’s my old football coach.”
Me: “Fine! LOL, I was just kidding.”
#3: “Ok. And it’s jk fyi.”

What? He’s correcting my text lingo? Really?

A few moments later, Son #3 sheepishly makes his way to my side on the bleachers. He wasn’t really coming to see me, but to check out the two pretty teenage girls next to me. He sat down behind me…

Me: “What the heck, Dude. You feel the need to correct my texts or something?”
#3: “Yeah, Mom. You old people need to get with it.”
Me: “Wow! You just earned yourself very loud country music on the way home.”
#3: “Oh yea? Well, I’ll just turn up the iPod super loud and play the Beastie Boys to fight back!”
He knows how much I hate the Beastie Boys so he often does that to me.

Son #3 slithers off the bleachers but I got a high five on the way out…that’s cool.

I will never know what makes teenagers and tweens think a grown up deserves the label “cool.” That’s okay, I’m happy to bask in it as long as I’m able..

I can live with that.

In the meant time….

I’ll just rotflmao at all their craziness…idk, seems like fun to be a kid these days.

And wth, it’s ok to be cool.

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