Last week was the youth mission trip for our church youth. Since I was part of the interim youth team I helped out best I could. This past week marked the finish line for my stint at being “in charge” of youth (I use that phrase loosely because I’m not sure I was ever really in charge or knew what I was doing). This year the mission trip was local, helping Oklahoma residents who are still recovering from the 2013 tornadoes. I’m so proud of what these kids were able to accomplish and even more proud of their selfless attitude. My heart swells with pride and I have almost a parental feeling toward these teens.
Which brings me to today. I reluctantly admit that I’m old enough to be these teenager’s mother. That’s a hard pill to swallow because inside I still feel like a girl at heart. Last week it really hit home that these kids view me on the same playing field as their mom even though I have children much younger than them…maybe because I’m friends with many of their parents.
So here’s what happened. One night of mission trip we decided to have a lip-sync contest (the idea coming from the adults, I might add). My incredible friend Dr. Kate busted out an amazing mash-up of Sir Mix A Lot and Fresh Prince. Sister proved that she has the moves. I jazzercized my way through Everything Is Awesome and dropped it like it was hot. The kids minds were blown, as in brains exploded by the sheer awesomeness we brought. At first I thought it was our rad moves that had them in awe. Actually, it was the fact that two grannies such as ourselves could get up in front of a group of teens and bring it.
See, they see us as moms; aka car-poolers, aka PTA volunteers, aka disciplinarians, aka fun-haters. Because we drive our kids all over creation every day, shuttling them to and from activities, they assume it is our most favorite thing in the world to do. Remember when your mom used to say your face would freeze like that when you had a scowl? Well, it did. My forehead has permanent creases that only Botox can remedy because of my “mom face”. I’ve exchanged my shorty shorts for long shorts…not because I think they are indecent but to hide the spider veins that criss-cross my thighs and give away my age. Perky boobs of my youth? Those got traded in with my license to breast feed two babies.
So they see us as the responsible ones, the ones who are in charge, the ones who don’t want to get our hair wet in the pool, the ones who carry the credit cards and consider consequences. While all that might be true it doesn’t mean that I am ready to crawl into a grave and wait to die…because they view 40 as I view 90. And when we reveal how cool we actually are they are floored, not because of our mad skills but because their minds can’t conceive how someone who has busted out two kids can still bust a move.
Yes, I may be the responsible one, the one who gets angry at huge messes, who cooks the meals, who schedules the activities, who drops off and picks up. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun, how to laugh until I cry, love an impromptu dance party in the kitchen and go on dates with my husband. I’m still a girl at heart.
Prepare to have your mind blown…