Cool Mom Blues

When I was a kid, my mother had this friend who was super cool.

I thought she was way cooler than my mom. My mom had no idea about the latest music, latest clothes, who was who in pop culture etc….(I mean gosh mom how can you NOT know all the words to “Kiss Is On My List” by Hall & Oates, the BEST song EVER!!!) My mom worked forty plus hours a week, drove us kids everywhere every stinking day, and cleaned, cooked…..you know, all the fun stuff. Having no appreciation, as most kids do not, for all the hard mom work, I swore an oath way back then that I would make certain that I was a super cool mom whenever I had kids in the future.

Move ahead in time thirty years….I am now the mother of three children. I have decided to do an inventory to see if I have turned into the “super cool mom” I was destined to become.

Cool Mom Checklist:

• Cool moms would possess a tattoo of some sort, somewhere on their person. Preferably something cool written in a foreign language that they do not speak, nor understand, save for that prolific statement written on their thigh. 

Sadly, I fall short of this requirement. I do have a scar on my calf from burning my leg while trying to look cool on a motorcycle. Does that count? I give myself a NO on that one.

• Cool moms would know the latest top 40 hits by heart and be able to sing along with the children at least two paragraphs of the latest funky rap.

I have not been ‘funky’ since that case of athletes foot back in ’01. Also, apparently no one uses the word ‘funky’ anymore.

• Cool Moms dress in the latest fashions challenging Heidi Klum and those Kardashian girls as fashion icons.

 NOPE. Just NOPE. Let’s move on.

• Cool moms bake.

I burn….thus that would be a NO.

• Cool moms let their kids do “fun stuff”. According to my sons, that includes many activities that require varying degrees of absolute danger. Climbing, hanging, jumping on, off and over things with motorized vehicles, using multiple types of firearms and weaponry, preferably with or against a brother….are all examples of “fun stuff”.

Thus, on this one I again earn a whopping “NOT COOL”

• Cool Moms would be on Pinterest and actually have made something or bought something that they have pinned to the “For The Children” Board.

That would be a no. Do not even have a “For The Children” Board. It is all about me.

 

Turns out, I am just like my mom, working hard, driving kids around in my sweat shirt that has a pizza stain on the arm. (Okay, she never had the pizza stain, I have added that). There may be hope for me as I am mentored by many really cool moms that meet some of the requirements above.

But for now, I am so glad to just be me, as un-cool as I am…thanks Mom!!!

The Wonder of Wal-Mart

I am a wonderer of wonderments.

There are many things that I wonder about on a daily basis. From morning until night, curiosities and marvels cross my path. For example, I wonder how it can possibly be that I always owe at least ten dollars in late fees on my movie rental account at the Family Video? I pay on that ten dollar late fee every time I go in that place, and yet, the late fees never decrease…fascinating.

 I also wonder why in the world our creator decided to deplete the estrogen levels in women over 40. What is that cruel joke about? Is that a Garden of Eden thing? Is God still ticked off about the snake and the apple? I thought giving birth to bowling bowls was payback enough, yet here we are saddled with night sweats and an extra fifteen pounds that can only be removed with the aid of a licensed physician and surgical equipment. He is still ticked.

I wonder how in the world I am capable of watching the movie Pride and Prejudice fifty-seven times. How is it possible that a mind see a thing over and over again, and yet, I know without a doubt that if the dang movie is on the Oxygen channel tomorrow, I will watch it yet again, fifty-eight times and counting?

Nothing stirs the pondering in my brain more than a venture to the local Wal-Mart. You know, the store that you claim you never visit, yet I see you there on a bi-weekly basis…no worries, I won’t tell.  Our local Wal-Mart is a fine store, we know the manager, a great guy who really loves his job and has great employees. BUT! (You knew there was a ‘but’ coming) it is a looney-tune crazy kind of establishment. It doesn’t matter if you hit the Wal-Mart in Gaylord or Chicago…the crazy is consistent.

I wonder if Sam Walton had any idea what his retail creation would become since opening that first official Wal-Mart in 1962. I wonder if he knew how much stinking money his kids and grandkids would have today. I mean, those Walton kids are so rich; they send Mitt Romney cash in his birthday card.

I am curious as to why, whenever a child under the age of seven enters a Wal-Mart, he or she has an insurmountable urge to emotionally implode. You can travel in every aisle in any Wal-Mart and witness exasperated parents and a toddler in the middle of an epic meltdown.

Why is it that any conversation you may have with friends and neighbors that you happen to ‘non-run into’ at the Wal-Mart, is open for all who may be walking by to join into the dialogue? You may be having the most personal of conversations, and any yahoo walking past will feel the need to weigh in.

                Marie: “Yes Kari, I just had to put my ninety-year old mother into a nursing home, it was very difficult”

                Yahoo: “Oh my kids tried to put me in a nursing home…told those little b-&*7! they would not get one dime from the trailer if they even thought about it!”

                Marie: “Thank-you for that…will keep it in mind”

I suppose that there are no answers to such deep and important questions…it is not for us to ponder, it is simply for us to go and retrieve our ‘rollback’ prices.