The Joy of Embarrassing Children

My mom was right.  Yes, as much as I hate to admit that about some things, this time her instinct was deadly accurate.  She always told me growing up, “It is too, fun to embarrass you!  When you’re a mother, you will understand.”  Mom, this one’s for you…”You were completely, totally, and shamefully right about this one!”

Storm, my eldest daughter, probably disagrees.  That is to be expected though.  She’s only 12 and has many years ahead of her before she too is reaping twisted joy from embarrassing her children.  I, on the other hand, am enjoying myself a bit too much.  I just made a fascinating discovery last week.  Thursdays are actually “Old School Thursdays,” according to a local radio station.  At first, I was a little shocked to hear the music of my youth referred to as “old school” but I quickly got over that when they kicked off the evening with Pump Up the Jam!  You know…

“Pump up the jam.  Pump it up, while your feet are thumpin’ and the jam is pumpin’!”

Naturally, I cranked up the volume dial and blasted it through our truck.  It is sort of an unwritten rule in our family that if the volume passes a certain decibel, all passengers and the driver must partake in the art of truck-dancing.   This is a wonderful activity where the dancer performs every dance move possible on the dance floor, all from the seat-belted safety of the truck.  I learned this from a dear friend when I was just a wee little girl.  I have joyfully passed it on to my daughters as well.  Somewhere along the way, Storm apparently decided she is exempt from this rule now.  She even expected me to stop truck-dancing just because she is 12.  Ha!  Think again, junior, Momma lives for these moments of pure living and mortification! 

As I maneuvered and danced the truck into the high school parking lot for Storm’s orchestra rehearsal, she sank below window level and started begging me to stop.  Of course, with the volume up, the jam a-pumpin’ and my feet thumpin’ it was difficult to understand her.  I distinguished tid bits like:

“Seriously, Mom?”

“Please stop…this is…”

“Can you…down…volume?”

“Don’t do…looks stupid…arms up…”

“So embarrassing.”

Ding!  Ding!  Ding!!!  We have a winner!  What had she said?  I hit the brakes and came to a stop in the middle of the parking lot.  “What did you say, Storm?”

“This is so embarrassing,” she repeated.   

When I shouted, “Success!” at full volume, she seemed even less amused though.  The best part is that I did all of it, only because I’m a dork and I learned a long time ago to be like the honey badger and just not give a crap what people think of me.  I have fun.  I have fun with my girls.  And now that I know an easy way to embarrass my almost-teen, you bet your butt I’ll have a repeat performance coming soon.