My daughter insinuated to me this week that I am not cool. Ironically, her assessment was brought on by my use of the word “cool”.
Is it uncool to say “cool”? If so, no one told me.
This revelation came via text message. I was at work when my cell phone buzzed with a message from Kacey the Favorite Child. (She labeled herself as such in my contacts. She’s not really my favorite child. Especially after calling my level of cool into question.) Meanwhile, back at my desk…
BUZZ! “Did you remind Dad that I am going to Pat’s house after football today?”
I recalled a conversation Kacey and I had the previous day in which I’d agreed she could go to Pat’s house with a group of kids after her football team managerial duties were over for the day. They were going to watch the Vikings game together. Of course “Dad” was out of the loop because we had this conversation while he was absent… off working or hunting or at his “girlfriend’s” house or something.
I was busy at the time the fave kid sent her message, trying to get my work done and make sure I could exit the office in plenty of time to get to bowling on time. So I sent a message back, short and sweet. “No.”
No, I had not informed Mark that his daughter would not be coming home until later. It’s hard to remember all the things I’m supposed to remember to tell him. Our paths don’t cross that often with that crazy work schedule he has. And now it’s hunting season, so we see even less of each other. Things slip my mind.
After I’d responded to Kacey with that curt little “no,” I thought maybe I should let Mark in on the plans. I think it’s nice to let him know where his kids are now and then. So I gave him a quick call.
“I forgot to tell you that Kacey won’t be coming home after football. She’s going to watch the Viking’s game at Pat’s house tonight.”
“You could’ve told me that when you get home in a half hour,” he mentioned.
“It’s bowling night,” I replied. “I’ll probably forget by the time I get there, so I wanted to tell you while I’m still remembering.”
(I wasn’t kidding about forgetting. Sometimes I walk down the stairs of my house, only to forget once I arrive at the bottom, why I came down there to begin with. I hate that! I’m gonna have Alzheimer’s in a few years. I just know it. Oh, well. I hope at least that I’m entertaining to those around me when I get it.)
By the time I hung up the phone with Mark, my cell phone was buzzing again with a message from the self-proclaimed favorite child.
“If you talk to Dad before you go bowling, will you tell him?”
(Let’s not even get into why my daughter feels the need to convey information to her dad through me when she might just as easily speak directly with him. Okay, let’s get into it. I have theories. 1) I am the “yes” parent and he is the “no” parent. If the kids feel their dad might in any way put a stop to their plans for fun, they take the easier route… through me. 2) “Dad” never answers his phone. 3) “Dad” doesn’t know how to text. God forbid we actually speak to each other while on the phone. Hence the reason we purchased the unlimited texting family plan.)
Has anyone else besides me noticed that this is a severely digressive story? Where was I …? Oh yes… My favorite child had just asked if I could inform her father that she had permission to not come home after football that evening. I texted her back.
“Already did. Just talked to him. It’s all cool.”
I had work to do and bowling to get to. I figured that would be the end of it. I figured wrong.
BUZZ! “Did you just say, ‘It’s all cool’?”
“I am not weird. Besides. You LOVE me.”
I will make her pay for that. Probably by making her clean the litter box this weekend.
Besides, I know I am cool…for my age. See, it’s all relative. She thinks I’m not cool because she’s seventeen and people in her circle don’t say “cool.” They say “tight.” People my age say “cool” because we all had big crushes on The Fonz. Admit it. You did. You men too. You know you did.
Speaking of crushes, have you seen Rick Springfield lately? He still looks pretty good.
Yeah. I know. I am now starting to question my own coolness. But I don’t care. I like me.
Besides, I know I’m cool because she wants to wear the cute little black fake Ugg boots I just bought for ME. And she offered to let me borrow the cute little brown fake Ugg boots I just bought for her. Clearly I am cool if I can pull off wearing her shoes and clothing. And believe me, I take advantage. I have twice the wardrobe since my daughter became a teenager. Of course, I pay for almost all of it, so again… cool!
Also, I am letting her have people over to watch Jersey Shore tonight. People that include her boyfriend.
See? I am cool. I let her have boys and friends over and I let them take over the whole upstairs so they can watch Jersey Shore. CLEARLY I am the cool parent.
They just better not make too much of a ruckus. I need some quiet down here in the lower level. Jersey Shore is on tonight and I’ll be watching!
Okay… maybe I’m not so cool…