No mom is cool, Mom
I went to pick Olivia up after school and I sat and chatted up her friends while she packed up. I used to volunteer in the class so I've known some of them since kindergarten.
Here at the end of her fifth grade year, she is starting to be embarrassed of me. When we got home: "Mom, can you stop talking to my friends? It's embarrassing."
"Why? I know them," I said. "What did I say?"
"Nothing. It's just that you're... you know... TALKING to them," she clarified. Oh, yeah, that's better.
"But? Can't I be the cool mom who knows your friends?" I whined.
"No. You're not cool," she flatly stated. Like a knife through my heart.
"Not one bit? Not when I let you guys tape a little newscast at the studio? What other mom can do that?" I simpered.
"No. No mom is cool. Sorry," she said, like a cold-blooded killer, and then went about her business while I sat deflated at the counter.
Wow, one minute you're their world, and the next, you're like the creature in the basement that needs to be kept out of view. I'll just slink off to my corner for the next ten years till this blows over.