Cool Mum

According to my eldest daughter Lindsay, her friends all love me and think I'm a "cool" mum, or whatever the current equivalent of "cool" is. It would appear that I have earned this dubious honour by my willingness to host impromptu parties and wild sleepovers. The infamous night comes to mind, when a dozen teens slept in a tent in our backyard and were hooting & hollering on the trampoline at 2.00 A.M. I'm pretty sure our neighbours don't share the loving feelings towards me that Lindsay's friends do. In fact, I think the neighbours may even be a little afraid of us.

Apparently I am also a "cool" mum because of my open mind towards body piercings, (my son at aged 8, was the first and still the only boy in his school to sport an earring) and tattoos. When Lindsay wanted one for her 16th birthday, I went along and got one too. Of course that has made me very unpopular with other parents who don't share my laissez faire attitude.  

Finally, we have the zoo like atmosphere of our home. The dog that chases ghosts on the ceiling, the cat that falls in the toilet, the guinea pigs, rabbits and the occasional trip to the barn. Then, when you throw in my two other children, chaos reigns. What's a few more squealing girls thrown into the mix ?. 

Now, I will let you in on a little secret, I am not a "cool" mum at all. I'm just an idiot, and I never learn from my mistakes.  When one of my offspring suggest a party, sleepover, body art or the heinous trip to Chuckee Cheese with their cousins, my first response is usually, "Sure, why not ? What harm can it do?". It doesn't take long for reality to rear its ugly head, and I very quickly move to the panicked stage of "OMG! WTF was I thinking ?". That is also the time my husband very smugly sneers "I told you so!".  

To be fair, there never has been any harm done, unless of course you count the tenuous relationship we now have with our neighbours. Lindsay couldn't have found better friends, they are all lovely girls. When they troop upstairs from the basement for breakfast the morning after a sleepover that is typically light on sleep and heavy on noise, it is my turn to have fun.  While they sit there at the dining room table, blurry eyed, eating their bacon and waffles (typically covered in whipped cream, icing sugar, chocolate sauce, various fruits and maple syrup) I comment on the various tidbits I heard the night before. Sound carries through the furnace ducts, and there is one right beside my bed. Nothing funnier than the stunned expressions on their teenage faces, as they realise their secrets are secret no more!