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Putting that Backfield in Motion since 2003

Monday, July 10, 2006

What's my age again?

We have some new neighbors a couple of houses down. The home owner is a divorced mother with three kids and she is dating a man with three kids. When the two families collide, our street is inundated with some of the prettiest (and I’m talking about the boys here), attractive and stylish children and preteens I have ever seen this side of a Teen Vogue cover. There are three boys and three girls between 7 and 15 years and they just ooze cool. Like, if I were 15 I would totally want to hang with them. Hell, I’m 30 and I want to hang with them. They even have super cool names like “Halston”.

Last night I went to hang with my neighbor because she has a fenced in backyard (don’t even get me started. Operation Kiddie Corral went bust. It’s chain link not platinum for god’s sake!) and I was tired from fecal fest 2006 the playdate earlier. I made my way over to her backyard and it struck me as odd that instead of the usual oldies station or country/Christian station faintly playing in the background, Nelly Furtado’s “Promiscuous” was blaring at about a ten (side note: when did Nelly Furtado become a hooch? She went from bird to hooch in what? One album?). I rounded the corner of her house and oh my God! All the cool girls were like totally in my neighbor’s backyard. Two of the older girls were doing some sort of hip hop jazz routine in front of the younger girls and my neighbor’s daughter.

The rocked. Oh my God! They were so awesome. So cool.

I felt embarrassed to be all in my ugly mom shorts, with my ugly mom hair, wearing my ugly mom sneakers, and my too tight mom tank top with a milk stain. I had a kid on my hip and was pushing a kid in the stroller and I was sweaty from my 4 mile walk earlier meant to burn off my mom ass but whatever. I was so going to hang with them.

I was cool once. Hey, not only was I member of Capital high School’s dance company, Art In Motion; I was tap captain 1992-1993 and I was voted Best In Tap. I used to dress cool, wear name brand clothes, and shake what my mama gave me. I used to look at people like me now, roll my eyes, and swear that would never be me. I’m still cool on the inside and not to brag or anything, but I can still do one mean running man.

“Hey girls!” I said. “What’s up?”

“Hi. Nothing. We’re just dancing”.

“Where do you take dance at?”

“Dianne’s.”

“How long have you been taking dance?”

“Like forever.”
“I used to take dance.”

“Yeah, our mom took dance, too.”

Ouch. “I was tap captain.”

Crickets.

Alrighty then.

I made my way over to my friend who was busy refilling snacks and pouring drinks. I resigned myself to accepting my place in society and hanging with the adults. Inside I still feel cool. I still feel like I should be doing dance routines in my neighbor’s backyard in a bikini while some mom pours me drinks and gives me snacks but I’m pretty sure that 30 year old mothers of two are outlawed from dancing in a bikini in public in 49 of the 50 states. And for good reason, I might add. No one is ready for this jelly.

My friend and I chatted and watched the girls having fun. I did feel a slight pang of jealousy but one the perks of old age is that my glass could be filled with wine. Not the Pepsi the teenagers were drinking.

Score one for the old folks.

I helped Gavin play on her swingset and let Grace splash her feet in the pool and then we curled up on the grass to play with some toy cars until it started to get late and then we went home. The husband and I bathed the kids and after a million hugs and kisses, we put them down for the night.

Score two for the old folks.

So I may not be hip and the cool kids may not want to hang with me but there is something to be said for growing up and raising kids. Ironically enough, back in high school I did my senior dance final to These are the Days by Queen. I chose that song because I felt that being on the brink of high school graduation, it would be appropriate to dance to a coming of age song of sorts. That said, it isn’t really a coming of age song for a teenager graduating from high school. It is more for a coming of age song for adults realizing they are adults. Realizing that while youth totally rocked, watching it through your kids rocks that much harder.

Of course, watching it through my kids with the body I had when I was a high school senior would rock the hardest. I guess we can’t have everything. After all, I have already been blessed with the craziest, mad running man skills EVAH so I shouldn’t be too disappointed.

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2 Comments:

Blogger alimum said...

Oh, you are cool. Trust me. I know what I am talking about.

How strange that you have your very own Brady Bunch as neighbors.

5:31 PM  
Blogger Amanda said...

How strange that I never thought of it as having my very own Brady Bunch as neighbors.

Nahh, I'm not cool. I may be kind of, sort of 30 year old cool but I'm not young cool. I feel like I'm in that weird spot where I'm too old for MTV but I'm too young for Talbot's business suits... kwim?

8:52 AM  

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