Remember those days that you'd want to crawl in a hole and die because your mother was just that embarrassing? She'd sing loudly in the car, dance around thinking she had rhythm and just in general do everything she could to make you feel a uncomfortable as possible? Yeah -- well I'm her.
Yesterday as hubby and I were driving with both kiddos in tow and an Eminem and Dr. Dre song came on the radio. As expected I started jamming out, rapping along with Marshall, getting my flow on --- and then it happened. "Fuck you too bitch, call the cops" -- and Adam breaks out into hysterics and I couldn't help but want to crawl in a hole and die. Seconds before I'm singing "Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping" as we repeat Dora's song on her handy dandy cell phone for the 4,971st time of the day. It's almost as if I checked out of reality and for a moment in time and it was 1999 again and I was driving down I-94 in my 1992 Buick Regal smoking a cig, music blaring, sunglasses on and not a care in the world.
And then....Dora comes on for the 4,972nd time of the day and I'm back.
I then quickly realized I am my mother. I can no longer sing along to these songs. Not only is it clearly inappropriate for my kids to hear but my cool factor has decreased significantly since becoming a mom. Yes, it's true. I've tried to avoid admitting this for months, but I figure if I own up to it now, maybe I have a sliver of a chance of my kids accepting my dorkiness when they are older. Most likely though, I will still be THAT mom.
I was thinking this morning I'd like to paddleboard. Not a good idea.
Yesterday as hubby and I were driving with both kiddos in tow and an Eminem and Dr. Dre song came on the radio. As expected I started jamming out, rapping along with Marshall, getting my flow on --- and then it happened. "Fuck you too bitch, call the cops" -- and Adam breaks out into hysterics and I couldn't help but want to crawl in a hole and die. Seconds before I'm singing "Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping" as we repeat Dora's song on her handy dandy cell phone for the 4,971st time of the day. It's almost as if I checked out of reality and for a moment in time and it was 1999 again and I was driving down I-94 in my 1992 Buick Regal smoking a cig, music blaring, sunglasses on and not a care in the world.
And then....Dora comes on for the 4,972nd time of the day and I'm back.
I then quickly realized I am my mother. I can no longer sing along to these songs. Not only is it clearly inappropriate for my kids to hear but my cool factor has decreased significantly since becoming a mom. Yes, it's true. I've tried to avoid admitting this for months, but I figure if I own up to it now, maybe I have a sliver of a chance of my kids accepting my dorkiness when they are older. Most likely though, I will still be THAT mom.
I was thinking this morning I'd like to paddleboard. Not a good idea.
Did you know I tried boxing? Again...
Going with my gut here and gonna keep thing simple this summer and not get too adventurous. It may be short-lived and although my kids aren't old enough to appreciate it now, someday they will thank me.