True Life: I Really Am a Cool Mom


Recently, several people have told me to ‘stop trying to be the cool mom’ but the truth is I’m not trying to be some cool mom. I’m just being my usual self but with my kids, I am sincerely just a better version of myself. Now, I’m no Kris Jenner or Mrs. George, Regina George’s mom (if you don’t know who that is we can’t be friends) I do have morals and values, specifically family values but at the same time I am pretty fucking cool; and I’m a damn good mom.

Although I want to say that being a young mother has helped me keep my fun personality while parenting two children; but recently I have met some older moms who are pretty damn cool, themselves. I guess it’s just who you are as a person; what your personal characteristics consist of. I can’t say I’ve stayed the same ‘fun’ as I have since having my children; but I can say that I have kept a lot of my youth all while maturing and becoming a more conscientious and hmmm let’s say a not so reckless me.

It really isn’t that I am intentionally trying to be such a cool mom, I’m just doing me. I dress my kids in skull shirts, Rasta hats, chuck Taylor’s, my sons hair is down to his shoulders and ridiculously curly, am I going to cut it? Sure, when he wants too. I’m not some crazy hippie; his hair just looks fucking awesome long. I let my kids write on the walls because I like the stories they make up while they draw. I secretly think it’s funny when my daughter puts her hand on her hip, points her finger and says ‘no, you stop.’ Or when my son screams he loves boobs while grabbing mine in the middle of the supermarket. I have a great sense of humor (clearly) but I know when to reprimand my children. Recently, my aunt from another country who doesn’t speak English was playing with my two year old daughter. Whatever my aunt was doing to my daughter, was pissing my daughter off. My daughter, as always, puts hand on waist, points fingers and says ‘you go home!’ We weren’t even at our house. Although very humorous… Also very rude and I refuse to raise a rude little biotch. So she was reprimanded for her behavior. I sit and play with my kids and have ridiculous dance parties. My kids love tiesto. We play hockey in the house and a trampoline plus a Thomas the Train roller coaster is currently taking over my living room. I bump Biggie and French Montana while driving my kids to karate and dance class; no not loud you judge mental bastards. But I also will sit and play patty-cake, the itsy bitsy spider and ring a round the rosy. I’ll play with play doh with my kids and make mustaches and big eye brows to put on their faces, and find it hilarious. Enough examples and scenarios, you get the point.

Every now and then my baby daddy (we’re married, I just think it’s funny to call him that)  go for a night out on the town; rarely do we make it a low key night, not quite sure why, since neither of us can make it past midnight. *(side note: second year in a row I didn’t make it to midnight on New Years Eve)*. Not sure why we always try and turn our night outs like we’re in fucking Vegas, but I’m assuming it has to do with the fact that neither of us really got to enjoy our early 20s the way our friends did. *(another fun side note: a friend once told me I am like Vegas in a bottle! Best compliment ever.)* Point is, we try and stay young and be fun but in the back of our minds we still have that ultra sense of responsibility. Like, instead of taking 19 shots at the bar we will only take like 10. Joking. Sort of.

My order of ideas of a fun good time have obviously been altered; for instance laying on my couch with my husband and kids watching a cute funny movie will beat in any boxing match k.o a night out, even if it’s Vegas.

One day, I’ll be in my 40s at a bar wishing I was at home snuggling with my once little babies. Trying not to blink my eyes too fast. Time really does fly.    }|{ <~– butterfly.


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