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My 16-year-old son recently went back-to-school shopping for clothes (without me, *sniff*) and came back with a lot of really great finds. His typical “uniform” of jeans and tees seems to be a thing of the past. When I commented on how great he looked, he defined his new style as a hipster.
Urban Dictionary defines “hipsters” as: “a subculture of men and women typically in their 20’s and 30’s that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter.”
Hmmm… that sounds a lot like ME! Woman in her 30’s: check. Value independent thinking and progressive politics: check. (I’m not sure about counter-culture, I think I need a more hip hipster to define that further for me). An appreciation of art: check (I’ve been to the MOMA). Indie-rock: check (I love a good local band). Creativity: check (who doesn’t?). Intelligence: check (duh, that’s a no-brainer… uh… wait…). And, I love me some witty banter! Conclusion, I must be a hipster.
Me at a recent 80’s rock band concert trying to recapture how cool I was in Grade 8.
I Am Hip?
“Uh, no, Mom, you’re not,” is the response I got from my son. Sad face :(.
When did I become an old Mom and no longer “cool”? When did I go from being the cute, young one in my office to the Mom figure on my team? When did I stop knowing what was on the Top 40 list and preferring to listen to 80’s and 90’s hits that are now 20 and 30 years old!? I suppose it was a gradual transition that I didn’t really notice was happening.
Although I am staring 40 down the nose (514 days to go…), I still feel the same way I did in high school. I really do. I didn’t understand that feeling before I got here and in hindsight I realize that when I was a nasty teen, this is probably how my Mom felt. Huh. Interesting. Sorry, Mom, for all those times I said things like, “you don’t understand me,” or, “how would you know, you’re old!?”. Oops.
Watching my teen son grow and change is really quite fascinating. The teen years are hard. They suck, really. I wouldn’t want to go back there, although I did have a blast in high school. I like to think that he and I have a lot in common and that he thinks of me as a pretty young, cool mom. After all, I was just 21 when he was born, so I had barely left the teen years myself. In reality though, I’m 21 years older than he is and I’m his mom. I’m not young and cool. Boo hoo. But I also know that this is the way it should be. I’m not meant to be his friend who goes to parties and hangs out with him (remember the kids who had those parents and what you really thought of them and what you think of them now? I don’t want to be that mom).
I worry though, that if I’m nowhere near being what my eldest son defines as a hipster and sees as cool, how will my younger son (who just turned one) see me when he’s a teenager? I’ll be really old then! I hope that in another 15 years I will still remember what it was like to be in high school and how it feels to be young, invincible and on top of the world one minute and down in the dumps the next.
Sometimes it’s painful to watch my son struggle through life and figure out where he’s going and who he’s becoming, but I have to remember that we’ve all been there and he will make it through. All I can do is guide him to make the right decisions, support the decisions he does make and be there to catch him when he falls.
In the meantime, I know my teen loves and respects me, but he definitely doesn’t think I’m a hipster, and that’s OK.
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