You’re Wearing Work Pants?!?

***Before reading, please know I’m not complaining about my teenage daughter. I do not feel like she is taking advantage of me. I feel like she is a normal, healthy teenager who is trying to find her independence. It’s what teenagers do. It’s funny. Teenagers are hilarious to those of us who remember what it was like to be a teenager, and even though I’m 52, I remember it well! Teenage girls are funny creatures who think they know everything…right up until they figure out they don’t know everything. We all parent differently, and I choose to parent with laughter. I have rules, and generally speaking, she follows them.***

“You’re wearing work pants?!?!” Yes, my teenage daughter asked me this in her school cafeteria yesterday, because what do teenagers do when they’re not critiquing their mothers’ fashion choices? Isn’t that why we put in so much time feeding them, sleep training them, kissing their booboos, and helping them figure out life…so they can find fault with our wardrobes?!

I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for years, but I have volunteered at her school since 2008. She is used to seeing me there in jeans or slightly more fashionable clothing, but yesterday, she saw me in the school cafeteria in what she referred to as “work pants.” And there’s a reason I was wearing those “work pants”: I was working.

Recently, I started doing a little substitute work in the library at her school, which means I am actually on the payroll. Dressing for the payroll is a little different than dressing when you’re working for free. You can’t wear jeans. You have to look somewhat professional.  Most adults would not have looked at me and thought “work pants.” I was wearing black wide-leg pants (or slacks) and a blouse I thought was really cute…collared with stripes and a tie-waist. And heels. I wore heeled booties. I didn’t look like an old-fashioned “school marm.” And I didn’t look like I was going to repair her car. I didn’t look like I was going out to take someone’s temperature or represent someone in court. But apparently, I looked like I was at work, and she felt the need to call me out on it. It’s something she’s not accustomed to…and it surprised her!

I have written before about how my daughter is definitely a teenager now. Seriously, I’ve told y’all how she rolls her eyes when I sneeze…or talk…or breathe. And now…she doesn’t like my “work pants.” Or maybe she thought I was cooler than that. Y’all, having a teenager definitely keeps you humble. If you have children…especially girls…under age 12, enjoy it. Hug them. Feel free to sneeze, talk, breathe…because soon they will be critiquing your wardrobe.

A friend came over for coffee this morning, and we compared notes on our teenagers. Thank God we have each other, or we could really start to feel bad about ourselves! We could actually start to believe we always wear the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, and even walk “wrong.” And maybe we do, but we went 50 years without people feeling the need to tell us that…and then we had teenagers. My friend didn’t seem to mind that when she arrived at my house for coffee this morning, I was wearing blue pajama pants with pink flamingos all over them and a gigantic black hoodie with “Rollin’ with the homies” emblazoned across the front. She didn’t even care that I hadn’t brushed my hair yet! My friend saw me dressed like that and with bed head, no less, and she still loves me! But my daughter? She doesn’t approve of the “work pants.”

So at the end of the day, I took a few minutes to explain to my teenage daughter that I can’t go to work in the library wearing yoga pants or jeans. I can’t go in wearing a hoodie with “Rollin’ with the homies” across the front of it…and a picture of a pug smoking a cigarette on the back of the hoodie…I should mention that. It’s my favorite hoodie, and honestly, it’s the article of clothing that should really embarrass her!

Most of the time, though, she is kind and funny, and I love spending time with her. She loves getting my insight and feedback, and most of the time, she listens. She even thanks me for things I do on a regular basis. She’s a keeper.

It’s hard to believe in just 2 1/2 short years, that teenager will be going off to college…”good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.” And then, one day, she will likely graduate from college and have her first “real” job. I hope I’m visiting her on the first day she goes to work, so I can make fun of her “work pants.” She will have long forgotten poking fun at my clothing choice, so I will catch her off guard just before she walks out the door. I’ll stroll over to her, wearing my very comfy PJs and bathrobe and drinking my morning coffee, and I’ll say, “You’re wearing work pants?” I will then bid her “good day” and remind her that I’ll be sitting around in my PJs drinking coffee, watching The Price is Right, while she’s out working in her “work pants.”

 

I’m Not Always Wrong…

Sometimes, our teenagers surprise us with rare compliments. They might not even realize they’re doing it, but we, as parents, hear it loud and clear!

With a Target just two miles from my house, I shop there frequently. I’ve lived in the same house for 19 years, so I’ve been through that Target parking lot countless times…sometimes three times in one day.

Recently, as I was driving to Target on a Saturday with my teenage daughter in the car, I entered the parking lot from the entrance that has a four-way stop at the top. At this particular four-way stop, I could choose the left-turn only lane or the right turn/straight ahead lane. It’s only marked on the pavement; there are no signs. But I’m very familiar with it, so I know the right lane is for right turns or going straight ahead, and the left lane is left turn only.

On this particular morning, I pulled up to the stop sign in the right lane, and another car was in the left lane. We reached the stop sign almost simultaneously, so it was our turn at the same time. I moved forward to go straight, and I thought he was turning left, since he was in the left-turn lane. To my surprise, just as we were clearing the intersection, the car from the left lane came speeding past me, clipping the front of my car as he scooted in front of me. And he didn’t stop! My teenage daughter was surprised too, saying, “Wow! Imagine a guy in a [luxury car] doing a hit and run!” I followed him, and when he stopped by the Target sidewalk, I put down my window. He put his window down and yelled, “I had the right of way!” I replied, “You hit my car! AND you didn’t have the right of way!” He argued with me for a second, but I suggested we both park our cars and offered to walk back down to the intersection and take a photo for him. He said he would walk down too. And he walked with me.

When we arrived at the intersection, he could see he was wrong. It is clearly marked on the pavement. He turned to me and said, “I was wrong. I’m sorry.” I could tell he was embarrassed, but honestly, it was all I could do to keep from smiling. Heck…maybe I did smile. He had another state’s plates on his car, so I asked him how long he has lived in Charlotte. He told me less than a year, “but I come through that intersection all the time!” I said, “I understand, but I’ve lived here almost 20 years, and I’ve driven through this parking lot almost every day.” We ended up being very civil with each other, and frankly, the damage to my car was virtually nonexistent….a little brush mark that my husband was able to wipe away with some car wax when I got home. His bumper, however, was cracked.

The most amazing part of this episode? My teenage daughter, afterward, said to me as we walked into Target, “Imagine, Mom…you’re always right.” That was a compliment, but I’m not sure she realized she was throwing it out there. I wish I had recorded her saying that, but it was a missed opportunity. I then, of course, had to tell her I’m not always right. In fact, I might be wrong more than I’m right, but when I know I’m right, I know I’m right.

Of course, later that same day, we were shopping in a local boutique, and I held up a shirt that I thought was perfect for her. She looked at me like I had fourteen eyes and said, “Ewww!” I guess she knows I’m not always right.

***And just for the record, a lesson was learned…I should not have followed the driver of the other car, and I made sure my daughter understood that. I should have let him drive away after getting his license plate number.*** AND a friend who is a retired Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Officer later told me that if I had called the police, the offender, at the very least, would have received tickets for living in Charlotte for nine months and still carrying a driver’s license from another state…and not registering his car in NC. You need to do that within 30 days of moving here.