 Just when I thought my kids were old enough that we could go to the mall and actually walk side-by-side ... just when I thought they were at that age when we could go to the movies together and actually sit in the same row ... just when I thought they were old enough that I could embarrass them no longer ... I went out and bought a Judy Garland CD.
Turns out in the world of cool, that was a major faux pas.
Oh, they didn't have to say anything. I could tell because they rolled their eyes in much the same way they had when I dressed up as a female cheerleader for the football rally at their high school.
I found the CD when the oldest and I stopped off at the music store last week.
"Hey, it's Judy Garland," I exclaimed. "She's great!"
"Yeah, real great Dad," said the oldest. Then as he handed his Garth Brooks CD to the girl behind the counter at Tower, he told her with a laugh, "I'm not with him."
Humph! He was "with him" when we were buying his $250 baseball bat when he was a freshman in high school, he was "with him" when we were at the dealership buying his first car, and he was "with him" when we were paying his tuition at Fresno State.
Now, though, he's not "with him" just because I like Judy Garland?
It wasn't much better when we got home. The teen-ager spotted the Tower bag and asked, "Hey, did you get me anything?"
"Yeah," I said proudly. "I bought this Judy Garland CD for the whole family. Want me to play it?"
"Uh, no!" he said bluntly. He turned to look at his brother, and with that they just burst into laughter.
"OK, so I don't share your taste in music," I said.
"Taste?" cracked the oldest, and they started laughing again.
"Yeah, you guys are absolutely hysterical," I said with that injured tone in my voice.
"Oh, don't get mad," said the oldest. "Come on, we'll plug in your CD. Then maybe later we can all go for a walk down the yellow brick road together."
That was it. They were rolling on the floor by that time, and anything I said just made them laugh harder.
Just when exactly was it that they got to be so cool and I became such a dork?
It's funny, because when they were small, I was their hero. They followed me around like puppies chasing the butcher. I could wear dark socks with shorts, and they wouldn't even notice. I could tell stupid jokes in front of their friends, and they would giggle. I could belch in public, and they just laughed (actually, that part has never really changed).
But about the time they moved into their formative teen years, I could absolutely humiliate them just by wearing my socks pulled up too far, or by laughing too loud at a movie, or by just being in the same car with them when we drove past their friends.
I thought they were past that now that they're in their 20s, but I learned otherwise last week. It's different than it used to be, though. Now they don't really get embarrassed, they just mock me.
I suppose it's all part of the process. In fact I know it is ... because I remember when I was cool--really, really cool--and my dad was a real dork.
He would embarrass me in front of my friends by wearing some silly hat, telling some corny joke or by dancing around the living room to the sounds of Lawrence Welk (OK, that was really the worst!).
So I know how it goes, because it was the same with my dad. He was my hero when I was small, then he embarrassed me in my teens and then he infuriated me when I was in my 20s.
But later on in life, of all things, suddenly he became my hero all over again.
I sure hope it turns out that way with my boys.
Want to talk? Give me a call at 408.354.3110, or write to dsparrer@svcn.com.
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