The Cool Parent
While I don't buy into that whole be-your-kids'-best-friend dynamic that seems to be common among affluent parents of teen-agers right now, it is my ambition to be my child's "cool parent."
The truth is that both R. and I are fairly big-time geeks, who got good grades, read serious books and listen to public radio. We know our kid is going to think we're hopelessly lame.
But, no matter how un-hip your parents are, as a kid, you almost always have a sense of one of them being far cooler than the other. This is the parent to whom you can make your pitch for expensive sneakers or non-plastic eyeglasses, the parent who understands that certain things are required for, say, surviving junior high school.
With me, it was, I always thought, Mom.
Dad was the hard-working, primary bread winning guy, who despite being brilliant and successful, couldn't get salespeople to wait on him because, on weekends, he was often dressed like a bum. (There was one pair of bell bottomed jeans and a zippered hooded sweatshirt that lasted so long they almost made it back to trendiness. They were retired, 10 years ago, by mom.)
Mom understood things like fashion. And, while she didn't always buy the "everyone else has one" argument for a purchase, she did grasp that a certain coolness bar had to be reached when shopping for back-to-school clothes. She paid for professional hair cuts. She served, when Dad was not around, breakfast food for dinner. She did not enforce bedtimes if there was something interesting going on.
Dad, on the other hand, managed to convey the impression -- though I don't remember him saying it out loud all that often -- that he knew how much all that stuff cost. And he didn't really think it was worth it.
Dad was the enforcer of structure and routine. If he said we were leaving at 4:45, you were either ready at 4:45 or you stayed home. That kind of rigidity is, of course, the opposite of cool.
And I got it from him. (Genetic or learned? You decide.)
In our house, I am the one who is super-anal about being on time, about sticking to commitments and all that hopelessly uncool stuff. I have little tolerance for mess or really looseness of any sort.
R., on the other hand, is the world's most easy going human being. Nothing phases him.
Attitude-wise, he's got the coolness thing nailed, while I am hopelessly uptight.
I've been slowly coming to terms with the idea that he is destined to be our kid's cool parent, the person who will let certain rules slide and make creative exceptions when necessary.
Then I got into the car this morning to find the satellite radio tuned to "Hits of the 70s."
And that's when it dawned on me. This is a man who would seriously consider buying a flowbee to save money on haircuts, a man whose wardrobe has become my continuing project. (Me: "You know you have brown shoes that you could wear with those pants, right?" Him: "Yeah, I guess. Why?")
I am our child's last, best hope for a cool parent. This is probably my scariest realization about parenthood so far.
Comments
Flowbee!?!?
Where did you ever come up with THAT?
PICKETT replies:
There is, no joke, at least one member of R.'s family who owns and uses the Flowbee.
Posted by: Ed | June 15, 2006 11:47 AM
You can definitely be BOTH. Firm and at the same time Hip. I'm a single mom that has to play ALL roles at different times with my 3 children with different personalities. Trust me it will be a piece of cake for you. You'll definitely be the coolest parent. ahem...don't tell R. that : )
Posted by: candy | June 15, 2006 04:17 PM
Scarier yet... wait until you begin to tell your child the very same things your parents said to you... I swear sometimes I hear their voices echoing in my head when I start a conversation with "when I was your age..."
Posted by: Andrew | June 16, 2006 09:36 AM