The Price of being cool

So, when exactly does it happen? How do you wake up one day and BAM! You’re old?

I remember being a kid and watching Prince (when he was actually JUST Prince and not “The Artist Formally Known As…” or that wacky symbol thingy)…. on MTV (when they actually played videos, for those following along), and Prince’s video “When Doves Cry” came on. It was the video where he was almost completely naked in a white room crawling out of a bathtub and writhing all over the floor (DAMN, they just don’t make them like they used to). Anyway, I remember distinctly thinking to myself, “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen”. And my mom walked in the room, took one look at prince with his five-foot nothing, scrawny body acting “all-that” and she LAUGHED OUT LOUD.

I don’t have very many vivid memories of my childhood, but I think it’s interesting that I remember this one like it was yesterday. And it was the moment when I realized that my mom wasn’t cool.


So here I am, not much younger than my mom was at that time checking out VH1 (because MTV doesn’t show videos anymore, remember?) and thinking, “Who in the hell are these people?” And yes, I have actually laughed. Out loud. On more than one occasion.

And it got me thinking… what is the price of being “cool” to your kids? Okay, sure… I’ll sing along to Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus with my girls without too much embarrassment (hey, she’s 7). But, I’m not sure how much further I can go. If in the coming years they start really getting into the T-Pain’s and Lil Wayne’s, I’m not sure I’m going to remain along for the ride.

Right now I’m in the mode of just forcing them to listen to my music while driving in the car. And while I’ve gotten some backlash for refusing to let them hear the theme from Madagascar for yet another time, I think they’re adjusting. In fact, just today my five year old asked if I could turn on Paramore when she didn’t like what was on the radio. And upon hearing that Mom’s iPod wasn’t available, she got annoyed. You gotta love it.

So, yes, I’m old. Not yet uncool (at least to my kids anyway). And I know I’m on borrowed time.

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