Let me set the scene.
It’s Saturday night.
My newly minted teen has 5 girlfriends sleeping over to celebrate her birthday.
I order a few pizzas (and a meatball parm stromboli because my husband doesn’t want the pizza) and head out to grab them to fuel the teens for an intense night of giggling and SnapChattery.
I am wearing the obligatory black leggings every mom gets in her post partum toolkit. You know, the “uniform.”
My hair is pulled back in someone’s version of a messy bun.
I have a tiny bit of makeup on, why I don’t really know.
As I’m walking with my pizzas to the register, I’m getting some looks.
I’m thinking the looks are because my fellow shoppers are thinking something in between:
“Look at that cool mom effortlessly sauntering through the store holding 3 pizza boxes and her husband’s meatball parm stromboli, and a bag of garlic rolls without breaking a sweat. All to feed the gaggle of teenagers sleeping over tonight because she’s that cool.”
And/or
“Damn, mama’s still got it.”
I walked out with a little more swagger. An extra little spring in my step.
Yup. That’s me.
The cool mama who’s still got it.
I get in my car.
Grab my seatbelt to pull across my chest.
And that’s when I see it.
“Meatball parmigiana stromboli – $7.99”
They weren’t looking at me because of any coolness, cuteness or swagger.
THEY WERE LOOKING AT MY MEATBALL PARMAGIANA STROMBOLI PRICETAG THAT CAME OFF THE BOX ON TO MY DENIM JACKET BECAUSE I CLEARLY CANNOT EFFORTLESSLY SAUNTER HOLDING 3 PIZZAS.
Coolest. Mom. Ever.
