Fanny Pack

 

I bought a fanny pack this year. I could hear the thirteen-year-old me through the waves of time, gasping in horror, rolling her eyes, and giving wild huffs of embarrassment, but the mid-thirty-year-old me is like YEEEEES, I GET IT MOM!!! Not just for the fanny pack. This year, I kept a note in my phone of all the things that I used to balk in teenager dismay, that I used to do the whole “Mooooooooom. That’s so embarrassing,” thing to. And now, this blog is to say:

Happy birthday Mom!!! You were right!! I GET IT!!! 

Here’s my list of straight up mom-isms, to which I have crossed over and seen the light:

• Why yes, wearing high socks does keep your ankles warm if you have regularly cold feet, even if you’re wearing shorts. Luckily the youths have started doing this too. 
• Wearing your sweatshirt inside out because it just means the next time it will be right-side in. I actually considered this logic last month, which means it’s only a matter of time. 
• Staying awake when we were teenagers until we got home. Wanting all the babies under one roof. Making us stand in yall’s doorway or plopped at the end of the bed to catch you up on life before we went along to our rooms. 
• Forgetting what you said in the middle of a sentence. It used to drive us nuts when you’d be in the middle of explaining something, stop to think, and then totally forget to pick up again. Joke’s on you, Little Carly, because Mom Carly does this every day. 
• Crossing your legs when you sneeze. 
• Buying 3 of the pair of shoes that works best for you. Sneakers, of course. 
• Making fun of boy bands 
• Asking the hubs to put on comfortable clothes at the end of the day. I totally do this now because I feel empathetically uncomfortable if he’s not dressed in comfies. 
• Bright lights hurting my eyes. 
• Making us balance our own checkbooks at 13. 
• Owning two pairs of heels that are worn maybe once a year or two; a few fancy clothes at the back of the closet. 
• Coming in at 2am with crazy eyes during sleepovers to tell us to Go To Sleep but not remembering doing so in the morning 
• Making us learn piano 
• Saying proudly while you look in the mirror, “Honey, I am one ugly b*tch!” and telling us you earned your wrinkles and laugh lines. 
• Reading ahead on books to make sure it ends okay
• Panicking and freezing in the drive thru when they ask for the order. Them: “Small, medium, or large?” You: “Oh. Um. Oh. Uhhh… Yes!”  Them. “………”  
• Laughing when fashions from your day came back for your teenage daughter to wear 
• Worries keeping me up at night 
• Chocolate keeping me up at night 
• Teeth getting too cold 
• Walking through JMU and saying “Now, when I was here….” 
• Never having Tylenol or gum in your purse (/fanny pack). I thought I’d be ‘that’ mom. I am not ‘that’ mom. 
• Avoiding the mall because #teenagersarenotcalming
• Dancing to Shout in the stands at our basketball games 
• Mascara being “too heavy” to wear.  (There was literally ZERO make up in our house until I became a teenager).
• Believing that life is too short to care about ironing. 
• Learning to knit just so you wouldn’t have to watch the close parts of our basketball games
• Singing Patsy Cline “Please release me” whenever you took off a “real bra” at the end of the day. So embarrassing then. So legit now. 
• Dressing up like a mad scientist during some of your lessons as a teacher. 
• Hiding your favorite chocolate from us 
• Crying 600 times in Finding Nemo
• Never getting Valentine’s Day gifts 
• Looking at Dad in all his ridiculousness while he’s out in the yard and going “Isn’t he cute??”   Sheaff was mowing the farmhouse field in his beach gear and high socks, and I looked out the window and literally said out loud “Could he be any cuter?” Appreciation for one’s spouse in all their goofiness and hard work is the best. 
• This list remains open as a new item pops up pretty much weekly. 

There’s the old phrase, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. When it comes to Mom and I, Sheaff says the apple is still in the tree. He’s not exactly wrong. I have this sign in my kitchen that says “I opened my mouth and my mother fell out.”  While I can’t paint, am not super passionate about math, find myself an entirely basic cook, and have feet twice the size of her 5 and ½ little feet, one of the best compliments I can ever receive is when people say “You are just like your mom.” 

Yes, please. I want to live life with your joy, your intelligence, your sense of self, your sense of humor, your sense of welcoming, your sense of motherhood and family. I would love to be like you, in all the ways. Fanny pack and all.