I was cool... once...  

Last week, my co-worker "M" made it official. As of 5pm on Tuesday, July 21st I was cool. It's sad that it took an act of God (ok, ok, an act from my supervisor) for me to become cool. Because I was. Once. When I was young.

I have an intern named "T". He is 20 years old. He goes to the same university where I earned my Masters. If I were a college-aged girl, I'd probably think he was cute. Fine. I'm 27 and I still think he's cute. He's over 18, it's allowed. Anyway, I'm only seven years older than him. But I'm married. With a job. A mortgage. And a baby. To him, I am old. And very uncool.

If you knew me in college (which I'm praying most of you didn't), then you know I liked to party. I liked to get all dressed up, go out with my girlfriends, have more than a few drinks, dance a little too closely to the frat boys, and stumble home long after a lot of my dormmates were already asleep in bed. I wasn't a bad girl; I was simply testing the boundaries my parents didn't let me get anywhere close to in high school. I was in a sorority. I went to keg parties. When I was in grad school, my soon-to-be DH was a starter on that university's football team, and I hung out with the offensive line. I got into bars without paying cover. I got free drinks at clubs and free meals at restaurants. For a while there, I was almost "that girl". And then I said "I do."

OK, so my wedding vows alone didn't make me old. Neither did buying a house, accepting my first, then second jobs in quick succession, or even getting pregnant and giving birth to G. None of those single actions made me the lame, boring, "thinks she's cool but isn't" person I've become, at least in my intern's eyes. The fact is, I'm not really sure what made me old and uncool... and it's driving me crazy.

Now, I find myself thinking that it's only just a matter of time before G also finds me old and uncool. Sure, today I am her super-hero, do-anything, smiling, laughing, safe and secure mama. But what about tomorrow? How much longer until I say something oh-so-embarassing like my mom used to do, which solicits an eye roll from my daughter? How much longer until everything I do is met with a dismissive toss of the head from a pre-teen who knows everything about everything?

I should be the bigger person here, I know that. I should do what my mom used to do when I was a teenager. She would emphatically tell me that she didn't care about being my friend, that it was her job to be my mother. To make sure that I was raised with the proper morals and values, learned how to be polite, do arithmetic, and write a grammatically-correct sentence. Now that I'm older (and apparently very boring), my mom is one of my best friends. She still tells me she doesn't want to be my friend. She still tells me her job as a mother isn't over, that it never will be. To her, it's still way more important to be my guide, my mentor than it is to be my friend. She's incredible.

I'm not sure I have that inner-strength, that self-confidence to truly not care what my child thinks of me. Now, that doesn't mean I'm going to go to her sixth grade parent teacher conference wearing a mini-skirt and a halter top (mental to-do list: give outdated mini-skirt and halter top to Goodwill). That would be embarassing, for both of us. But do I want her to confide in me when something is wrong, trust me enough to share her secrets, and occasionally let me be a witness to some of the big events in her life? Absolutely. And I want her to be as proud of me as I am of her.

So I guess being old, boring, and uncool is ok in the long run. Besides, do you know anyone else who is up at 2am almost every morning? Just college party animals... and me.