Cool Mom

I’ve always prided myself on being a Cool Mom.

A mom who the kids see as more of a pal than an authority figure. An older pal, maybe, but a pal nonetheless.

And I’m always looking for ways to up my coolness.

Like the other day Kelcey and I were emailing each other and she responded to something that I wrote with “Coolio.” Immediately, I put that catchy phrase in my arsenal of words that I can spring on the kids, preferably when they’re surrounded by their friends, to impress them.

I’m not even going to tell you about the time I impressed my 17 year old stepson by approving a later curfew for him and when he texted a “thanks, cool”, I responded with “and The Gang!” The reason that I’m not going to tell you about that is because I don’t want to intimidate you with my coolness more than I already have.

And yesterday my daughter and I had to take the subway to the Upper West Side, and when it was time to get off the train, I said “come on, Dora!”

She looked at me with that “OMG, I can’t believe this cool woman is my mom!” expression and said “why are you calling me Dora?”

So I had to explain that “Dora” was short for “Come on, Dora, vamanos! Backpack! Backpack!” and then sang the song to impress her more.

She was so happy she didn’t even say anything!

But cool points? I has ’em. (<-- cool talk) And that's why it was such a shock yesterday when the children told me that all things being equal, they'd just as soon that I dropped dead. Well not in so many words, but the message came through loud and clear. See, when they go out without me, I ask them to text me when they get to their destination. And they usually do. Except sometimes they're in a rush, and will accidentally text someone else instead. And then I don't get a text and I worry-- where are they? Why didn't they text? And that kind of worry is really eating into my cool vibe. To counter this problem, I devised a system. They text me, and then I text them back, so as to confirm that I received the text. And I'd usually add a little loving something. Like have a nice day! or Love you, honey!

How adorable is that of me?

“Can you stop sending those annoying texts?” they asked me, but in a sort of demanding tone. “They’re so stupid.”

“They’re cool,” I explained. Because children must be guided.

“They’re dumb. And I never even read them,” Young Ladrinka told me.

“Yeah, I just delete them, and they’re taking away my monthly texting,” my lovely daughter piped in.

“Are you seriously saying that you’d rather text with your friends about Glee than to get a fun text from your Cool Mom?”

“Duh.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. You must be running a fever.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to block you.”

“Me too.”

“What is this, Soviet Russia?” I threw some history at them. “I will not be censored.”

“I have no idea what you’re even talking about. And no one else’s mom sends them annoying texts.”

“That’s because other people’s mothers don’t love them,” I explained. “But don’t tell them that because some people are touchy about that shit.”

“And don’t curse. It’s rude.”

“It’s cool. Cursing is cool.”

“I don’t like it,” Young Ladrinka said.

“It’s blech,” my daughter insisted.

“Fine, no cursing. But in exchange I want to text.”

“Once in a while. Like once a month.”

“How about I text once a week and no potty talk.”

“Done.”

“Coolio.”

“What?”

“I said, coolio.”

“I thought we said no cursing.”

“Coolio is not cursing. Coolio is cool.”

“…”

“…”

“OMG, mom, did you just text me?”

Kids today.

They’re not as cool as I am.

One year ago ...

• A lot to take - 2013