As a teenager, the pursuit of being “cool” consumed me. I was a bright student who got along well with others, but I never quite made it into the coveted cool kids’ circle. Instead, I was the one they occasionally invited to a party or copied homework from, just enough to get by. It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized the futility of my teenage worries. Now, as a mother of three, I look back on that time with a mix of amusement and disbelief. The anxiety over fitting in seems laughable—no, not just a chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh that morphs into tears.
In the whirlwind of motherhood, my days are filled with the basic necessities: finding missing toys (because God forbid the Peppa Pig figure isn’t the right one!), dressing my kids, and stealing a few bites of food when I can. If only I could speak to my anxious younger self, I’d tell her to embrace who she is, not worry about what others think.
Reflections on the ’90s
Growing up in the ’90s, I remember the iconic hairstyles that dominated the era. At 15, I succumbed to the trendy “pob” haircut inspired by Victoria Beckham. In a salon filled with excitement, I was too timid to speak up, and as my hair was cut, I felt like I was losing a part of myself. The result? I resembled one of the Taylor boys from “Home Improvement”—not quite the look I was going for. Fast forward almost two decades, and I’d give anything for someone else to decide my hairstyle, even if that meant a repeat of my past mistakes. Now, I sport the classic “Mom of three” look: often washed, rarely styled, and thrown up in a messy bun. The daily challenge of getting everyone ready often leaves little time for my own appearance.
The Outfit Dilemma
Back in my youth, choosing an outfit was a daunting task. Now, my main concerns are whether my clothes are clean, weather-appropriate, and if I wore them yesterday. I’ve even resolved to be more organized by laying out clothes the night before—yet, it remains a work in progress. After a chaotic family dinner, the last thing I want to do is sort through clothes when my kids are finally asleep. If my little ones are settled, not even an earthquake could rouse me to disturb their peace.
I’ve also found myself willing to don outfits my mother would wear, and honestly, I’d rejoice if she offered me her clothes. She’s always had a far better sense of style than I do! The silver lining of this hasty approach to dressing is that when I do make an effort, the compliments feel genuine and rewarding. Those moments are for me and nobody else, and they remind me of the joy of self-expression.
Lessons for My Children
I’ve accepted that I may never be the epitome of cool, and I’m okay with that. My hope is that my children learn this lesson early. It pains me to see them modify their behavior to fit in—like hiding their favorite toys because a friend declared them “babyish.” I want them to cherish their uniqueness and find joy in the little things, like giggling until juice comes out of their noses. Preserving that innocence feels crucial, especially as they enter their teenage years.
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In summary, the quest for coolness has faded, replaced by the joys and challenges of motherhood. My focus now is on cherishing moments with my children and encouraging them to embrace their individuality, unburdened by the pressures of fitting in.
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