Posted by Duff

It’s been on my mind lately that amidst the day-to-day of parenting, the applesauce on the ceiling, the crayon on my jeans, the four-year-old who leaves the bathroom door open and runs interference while the 16-month old moves a stool to the vanity and uses my waterproof mascara to paint the door trim, a little of the who-I-used-to-be gets lost in translation.

It’s nothing new. When I think about how little I know of my parents pre-me, it makes sense. Young kids aren’t all that interested in the used-to-be-cool people who clean up after them and chisel their moral backbones with sweat and tears. It’s the natural order of things.

So, Dervish, Atticus, here are some things you may never know about your old lady:

I didn’t always pluck my eyebrows. The fact that I started made your existence far more probable. You can thank me (and Nana Bear, who first forced the tweezers on me) later.

I once stood between Joey Ramone and Howard Stern in the balcony of Hammerstein ballroom watching a Marilyn Manson concert. None of that, by the time you can read this, will mean anything to you. You can wikipedia all of those names, and the absurdity of it will still stand.  It was absurd the night it happened. Already, it’s not nearly as cool now as it was that night.

I used to be able to bounce quarters off my body.  It’s not your fault that I can’t anymore, it’s mine. 

I used to see sunrise from the other side. A lot.

I’ve lived and visited lots of places other than my hometown, even if the three of us will have an elementary school in common.

I once wrote songs that I performed in front of hundreds of people. Not thousands, but some. I know that seems unlikely when I’m navigating a car-cart through the grocery store.

I used to be afraid of the dark. Now I have to pretend I’m over it.

I once wore skinny jeans, in the 80s. It’s a dark time in my fashion history that I’m not ready to revisit, in vogue or not.

And the scariest part? Kids, by virtue of breathing, you’re already rushing toward the other side of the target market. As cool as you will become, you can’t beat the cycle. Your own children will one day view you as a dinosaur, whether you subscribe to the latest trend in hair or heel or hem.  They will only know the person you show them. And if that person doesn’t include who you used to be? You’ll get over it.