Cools Moms

On occasion I've been accused of being a cool mom. Mind you these accusations didn't come when I was caught belting Josh Groban in the car...with the windows down...at the stoplight in front of the high school. They also didn't come as I sobbed, red-nosed and wet-faced because I always forget the Kleenex, at every single show my kids performed from preschool Christmas concerts to professional Dinner Theatre. They certainly didn't come when I excitedly cheered, until my I lost my voice, for our team's goalie as she stopped shot after shot after shot...and called her by her sister's name the entire time. No, those were certainly not my Cool Mom Moments. Those blunders, however, pale to nothingness when compared to the story I read recently of a very uncool mom.

Imagine the scene: The 13 year old daughter is pumped because her mom said she could invite some girls over for a slumber party. Her mom is "cool". She knows how to have a good time. This mom's party planning goes way beyond ghost stories and gossip. So the girls come over, ready for a night no one will forget. Maybe. Or maybe most of them won't remember it. Because the mom's idea of entertainment involves beer and vodka. Lots of it. In fact, the mom is so "cool" she offered a prize of ten buck to which ever 13 or 14 year old could drink the most Vodka!

When the police crashed the party, they found six drunk teens and 70 beer bottles as well as vodka and bourbon bottles. Two of the girls were taken to the hospital. Wow! What a "Cool" mom.

I remember when I was a teenager and how "Cool" I thought the parents were who had the attitude, "They are going to drink anyway. At least if they drink at my house, I know where they are." But I was a teenager. In other words, young and naive and stupid. One would hope that as we get older, our ideas of "Cool" change.

Of course this story made the news because it is extreme. Most sane and sober parents, I hope anyway, would agree that this kind of parenting is wrong. In fact, it's illegal. It's a felony, actually. But it did get me to thinking about the other ways we indulge our children's young, naive and stupid ideas of "cool."

Do we text our kids at school, knowing they aren't supposed to use their phones but also knowing they are doing it anyway, so at least we know who they are texting? Worse, do we text our teens when we know they are behind the wheel thinking that somehow a driving text from Mom won't be as lethal as text from the boyfriend? Do we let them stay out past our community's curfew laws? Do we pay their parking or speeding tickets and increased insurance because it's convenient for us to have them taxi the younger siblings? Do we call in sick for them to the school because if they are going to play hooky anyway, at least we know where they are? Do we sneak our preteens into R-rated movies because they will probably see it at a friend's house when it comes out on video anyway?

I think you get the point. It's a slippery slope that slides faster the older they get.

I'm not sure why I sometimes get accused of being a cool mom. I hope it's because of the miniature candy bars I used to have in the car when I drove on field trips. Or the fact that I sit beside my kids while we check out their facebook page together rather than stalking them and questioning every post.

I hope it's maybe because I always want my kids to know they and their friends have an emotionally safe place in my heart and home, even when they screw up. And even when I screw up. And that's a definition of "Cool Mom" I hope never changes.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

I'm not sure where the "pants on fire" part came from. However, no child ever wants to be at the pointed end of that remark. Even as adults, we don't want our dishonesty exposed, do we?

Still, lying is part of growing up, isn't it? As much as we Mom Snobs would like to believe our children would never lie, it's actually a necessary evil. Dishonesty is one of those things that must be experienced firsthand in order to feel it's sting. Unfortunately, It's lesson is not something that can be taught in a well-worded lecture.

I remember my quiet, calculating daughter's first lie experiment. Let me set the scene.

The guest room was located in the back corner of the basement. We affectionately referred to it as the "Jayhawk Room." It wasn't just crimson and blue. Oh, no. In fact an uber-sized flock of Jayhawks flooded the wall paper-floor to ceiling. Pennants and posters were pinned up over that and every horizontal surface was littered with statues, knick-knacks, and memorabilia. We didn't use the room often, but a king-sized water bed took up most of the floor space, so the kids loved to roll around in there on occasion.

So I was surprised the day I went into the Jayhawk Room for some random purpose that now no longer matters. One step into the Rock Chalk Shrine and Crunch! I looked down to see the floor strewn with dry spaghetti noodles. Only one of my children was still in the dry spaghetti noodle fetish phase. I found her and brought her to the Jayhawk Room. I pointed to the mess on the floor. She got the look. That I-know-she-knows-but-I-don't-want-her-to-know-I-know look.

"Honey, do you know who made this mess?"

Dramatic Pause. "Yes."

Good Girl. She's going to tell the truth.

"Well, who made it?"

Second Dramatic Pause. Eyes searching her surroundings.

Oh, no. She's faltering.

Eyes meet mine, shining with her brilliant light bulb moment.

"The Jayhawks did it."

"The Jayhawks did it?"

"Yes, the Jayhawks."

"Um, which Jayhawks?"

She points to the wallpaper. "Those."

Wow!

"So, those Jayhawks flew off the wall and upstairs to the kitchen, opened the spaghetti package, carried the noodles down here and dropped them all over the floor?"

Big Smile.

"Yes!"

My daughter spent a good amount of that day picking noodles out of the carpet. Her feathered friends never pitched in to help. Guess they were mad that she ratted them out.

She's gotten a little better at lying now. They all do. Because even when we make them face the consequences for the lies we catch them in, there are probably dozens we never know about. And when they get away with it, it reinforces the idea that they can continue to get away with it. Unfortunately, there are a lot of grown up kids with issues out there who very obviously didn't get caught enough.

I said she's gotten a little better. But only a little. She has a nervous smile that gives it away. Thank goodness for that, otherwise with her quiet and calculating nature, she wouldn't get caught enough either. I think the smile give-away is God's way of keeping her honest because she has such a gullible mom. Not gullible enough to believe that Jayhawk nests are lined with pasta, however. Or maybe it's just a play between her naturally good heart and that pre-teen thing. She has to give it a try, but her heart's not really in it.

Which reminds me of another Proud Mom Moment. This one is not mine, but I can certainly appreciate it. A friend's teenage daughter was sitting shotgun when her boyfriend wrecked his car. It wasn't serious, but the boy freaked out. He immediately began weaving the tale to tell the parents so it wouldn't seem so much his fault. When she finally arrived home, the girl knew she had to come clean about the wreck. The boyfriend's parents would undoubtedly be calling in a few minutes. The conversation went something like this:

"Mom, while I was out with Tony, he wrecked his car. He made up some story I'm supposed to tell you but I can't remember how it goes, so I'm just going to tell you the truth."

Yes! Isn't the that the lesson we want them to learn in the first place. Honesty is so much easier. Even when you think it might be more painful initially, there are just too many things that can go wrong. And when the truth does come out--and it always does--the deceit has usually done more damage than the truth would have done in the first place.

Setting someone's pants on fire for lying is a little harsh. So maybe the sing-song phrase just means that sometimes lies are as obvious as flaming Wranglers. Or a nervous smile. Maybe it means that dishonesty just isn't worth the pain, no matter which end of the remark you're on.