And the moment I ask whether I’m cool…it’s pretty much a guarantee that I’m not.

I’ve never cared about being the cool soccer mom that has it all together and always remembers to bring the game snacks.  I know that I’m not that cool mom whose house is open 24/7 to all the neighborhood kids to come and eat all my food.  I know I’m not the cool PTA mom that reads to the class once a week and chaperones all the field trip.  I know these things.

But…I’ve always clung to the idea of being the cool, eccentric mom who may forget all of the school parties and forgets to send my child to school in the themed color of the day, but still entertains the kids in a way where they think I’m cool and wish I were their mom. Modest, right?

My fellow parenting friends always told me to take advantage of the early years because when Lexi is a teenager, she’ll be embarrassed by everything I do so I’d better enjoy it now when she’s five and still wants me around her. Ummm…I’ve been embarrassing Lexi since she was three.  How do I know this? Because she tells me. All. The. Time. “Mommy, when I’m on stage for the children’s choir, can you not come watch me? I don’t even want to see you. I don’t even want to know you’re there.”  Ouch. How is that for a humbling moment? But I’m one of the children’s choir teachers! I need to be there! I’ve been ordered not to even look at her when she’s performing. If I do, she stops smiling and she stops participating.

When she started kindergarten, I had these images of taking time each week to come have lunch with her because I work less than a mile from the school.  No go. When I mentioned it, she said, “Please don’t come. I just want to sit with my friends, mommy.” One day, my husband and I were at school to meet with her teachers.  It coincided perfectly with lunch time so I just thought I’d casually stroll into the cafeteria. My husband suggested that I just walk away.  It hurt my feelings. It really did, but for the sake of our mother-daughter relationship, I walked away.

It’s not supposed to happen this early. You all told me that the earliest age that she might feel embarrassed by me is eight! I feel deceived. But I need to face reality that Lexi is not a normal girl, and apparently, I’m not a normal mom. I was asked to sub in her choir again yesterday, and the child who normally sings her heart out and does all the hand motions with flair…remained silent.

She sat in her seat and stared at me mournfully as if to say, “What are you doing in here?? You’re ruining everything!”  Even the other mom volunteers asked if Lexi was alright.  How do I tell them that she couldn’t function because I was in the room?  We discussed it this morning, and she said those words, “Mom, you embarrass me.” What? Why? How? All the other kids thought I was hilarious! “Mommy, you’re too silly. Too crazy. Too…everything. It makes me nervous.” Oh…

I’m a cool parent…to other kids, but that doesn’t matter to me.  I only care about what my child thinks, and she asked me to tone it down a few notches when we’re in public so I will. I’ll just have to be eccentric out of her presence.

When’s the last time you embarrassed your kids? (And don’t lie.  You know you have even if you’re not willing to admit it.)