childhood

It finally happened: You’re weird mom

My son, the light of my life, is about to turn nine years old. A week and a half left for me to enjoy his eight-year old self and brain. As an eight year old, he started solving more and more problems independently and liked it. He enjoys reading books. Although, he primarily loves watching videos and playing games. 

He is also getting closer and closer each day to reaching my height. I am, admittedly, a bit sad but also immensely proud by that. I can easily fit into his shoes with barely an inch of space to breathe. As the Steve Miller Band noted decades ago, time is just slippin’,  slippin’, into the future. I need to fly like an eagle. 
As an eight year old, he has definitely been vocal about his opinions. I would even say moreso the last month. He readily shares his views on neighbors, television shows, Trump, and just the world, in general. I’ve been in a perpetual state of shock at how his transformation into a real him an and a little man was been occurring at a rapid clip. I had no idea he kept up with politics at such a quick pace.
I must prepare myself and steel myself mightily for next week when he turns nine. That is such a major turning point. He will be on the cusp of adolescence. To think, puberty can hit at the age of nine. It did for my cousin. Oh my. I just had a horrific thought. Is nine considered a tween?  What will I do with myself.
As he stands on the cusp of a new developmental era in his life, the inevitable happened today. He called me weird. At first he said I was a little weird. Then he said he took it back and that in just weird. Oh my. I honestly don’t remember when I first thought my mom was weird. I just wasn’t prepared for it today as we went school supply shopping. Adnittedly, I live shopping for supplies a lot more than he does. It’s ok. I bought him some fun stuff as well. 
But back to me. I’m weird now. Sigh. Do I now get to wear the t-shirt that says mommy needs a cocktail? Oh wait, I already have that one.
Here’s really my question. When do I become the cool mom? 

13 replies »

  1. I am proudly weird, unusual, barely inhibited, and ascribe to the notion that other’s perception of me says more about them than me. When my girls told me of their opinion of my weirdness. I thanked them and said that they were correct.

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  2. I totally simpathise . My son is almost 11 and for the past few years his main goal is to beat every game record. he’s vocal about everything and everyone, his shoes are bigger than mine and if i scold him for something, he tells me that he’s no longer a child and that i don’t need to ground him. he’s almost my height, and i can envision the man he will become in a few years.

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  3. Puberty hit me when I was ten. Ten is probably not a good age to be perpetually and insanely horny. Got there before almost anyone else in my grade. It was a frustrating and lonely place.

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  4. Mine will turn 8 on 3rd oct 2017. I’m desperately trying to hold on to the rapidly slipping fragments of his “babydom”…now he’s my little man..I can’t call him my “baby” anymore, at least not in public! And he’s already exhibiting most of the signs you mentioned: chattering away incessantly about everything, outgrowing me in every possible way. I can’t get enough of hugging and kissing him, but this sometimes gets awkward..*Sigh* Not sure if I’ll ever be the “cool mom” either…

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  5. I wrote an article once about dealing with the terrible two’s, My granddaughter is an adorable 14 year old these days. Every phase is a new phase to be experienced with apprehension now, and appreciated in hindsight. PS. You become the cool mum when your boy reinstates you for babysitting duty. Believe me time does not slip by, it gallops into the future, Hang on tight.

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  6. Wow, at first I thought I had skipped over being a cool mom and gone directly to becoming a cold mom! At first I thought this might be because I had become a mom so late in life, and feared that you might suffer the same fate! m so glad, then, that comments from some of your followers indicate that both of us might still hope to become cool in the eyes of our children someday.

    My kids’ comments on my fashion sense, or lack thereof (Mom, you dress in monochrome too much!) will probably still echo in the back of my mind till the day I die, though, and sometimes I make a definite effort to not merit this evaluation, when I know I will be seeing them. However, since these occasions generally require travel over a long distance these days, I sometimes can’t help it, given the fact that I have to pack interchangeable pieces of clothing to forestall wearing the exact same outfits day after day on these trips!

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