A seismic shift occurred in my parenting world recently.

Sometimes you sit in a mode of parenting for so long that you are convinced it will last forever.

I still sometimes struggle to believe that my diaper days are over.  It was like an entire DECADE you guys, for the love.  There are no longer meltdowns if my bag contains zero snacks.  Sippy cups with their cartoon faces are not floating around the floorboards of my car.

I’ve got moodiness and razors and wrestling battles and room turf wars now.  It is, indeed, a different world.

This weekend though I received a new little glimpse into exactly how different of a world it is and is becoming.

(Is it alright to confess that my response was laughter?  Just inappropriate amounts of laughter in a public place?  Like – high school girls in a gaggle laughter?)

Here’s what happened.

We were on our way to a friend’s house for lunch.  We had been assigned the purchase of chips.  (Which, side note, felt like what you ask the college kid to buy.  “What should we bring?”  “Hmm, why don’t you bring the — paper products? — nah, CHIPS!”  I’m kidding – it was fine.  I love these people.  I was happy to bring chips.)

So we stopped by the store to pick up bags of chips.  Simple as that.

Inside the grocery store and heading to the chip aisle one of the kids points out, “Mom – listen.  It’s Adele.  She’s singing ‘Hello’.”

It was.  She was.

I don’t know what my deal is with that song but I like to sing it.  Loudly.  Shamefully off key.  Expressively.

So there we were.  All six of us.  I was in the lead.  I turned around to look at my beautiful prodigy.  The children of my heart.  My precious family.

It was like the scene of some movie.  (Well, that was how it felt in my head – okay?)

They were all walking triangular-shaped behind me – spread out so that somehow I could see every single one of their faces at the same time.

I grinned.  (Maybe a little maniacally.  I can’t be sure.)

I looked around for an impromptu microphone.  A soda bottle should work.  I opened my mouth.

And I stared at their faces.

You guys.

It was THE BEST.

In their eyes there was legitimate FEAR.  Like – for real CONCERN over what on earth Mom was going to do next.

This pleading look.  Their mouths opened, less wide, more quiet than mine.  “Mom,” they whispered.  “Don’t.  Please.  Don’t.  Sing.”

I feel a little sorry for the tattooed gent trying earnestly to decide between BBQ chips or Fritos because he’s standing in the middle of our story.

And this is where the laughter enters.

From me.  My own laughter.

I just can’t even decide what to do.

But their faces — they’re killing me with their expressions and their concern and their — yes, absolute embarrassment.

I’m not sure I have ever felt more like a parent of teenagers and “tweenagers” than right then in that grocery store, holding a soda bottle like a microphone and hearing Adele belt it out and having to make a choice to NOT sing but being pretty much completely unable to reign in my deep amusement at the whole scenario.

Also – I was laughing because I couldn’t believe that I thought this was funny.  When did I stop being them?  When did I stop being embarrassed at what crazy parents did and cross the line to being the crazy parent??  It says something about my age – I know it does.  I for real DID NOT CARE what anyone thought.  Not even the very nearby red-shirted tattoo guy.  (I think his tattoo said “motorcycle” in very large letters.  The word – motorcycle.)

Oh you guys.  If you could only have seen their faces.

That’s some power we wield – as parents – to make a scene or to make a memory.  Or to do both.  

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