Forever in Blue Jeans

Julianna's Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Rodruan, pulled me aside this morning - big smile on her face - and said the words every parent dreads: "I just have to tell you what your daughter said about you!"

My heart went into my throat and my mind began racing. What had I done? How bad was it? Had my sweet little girl sold me down the river?

I instantly flashed back to when LJ was 3 years old and his pre-school teacher said the exact same thing to me.

In LJ's case, he had declared to both of his teachers: "My mom is lazy!"

There was a perfectly good explanation why he said that ... it had to do with a conversation he and I had about the way I made grilled cheese sandwiches. (Strange but true). I don't think his teachers bought my excuse. They had a great laugh over it and I was mortified.

I realize that teachers hear gems like that all the time. They spend as many hours with our children as we do. They probably know all sorts of "secrets" about our families and undoubtedly hear daily tales of our bad habits and ill-tempered outbursts.

Kids are pretty transparent with their emotions and in a safe haven like school, those feelings and experiences often bubble to the surface. I'm guessing that show-and-tell in Kindergarten can quickly become an impromptu therapy session.

So, today, when I heard those frightening words again from Julianna's teacher, I couldn't help but be nervous.

According to Mrs. Rodruan, the kids were drawing pictures of what they would look like when they turned 100 years old.

As Julianna created her likeness, she explained to Mrs. Rodruan that, when she turns 100, she will wear only wear blue jeans because "when I get old that's all I will want to wear -- like my Mommy."

Pfffffffftttt...

That's the sound of the wind being taken out of my sails.

It wasn't the blue jeans part that stung. That part is absolutely true. But old?

I needed clarity. Does she really see me as old?

I know I'm not the coolest mom in the world, but I like to think that at the very least, my kids see me as "young at heart."

Tonight, I gave Julianna a chance to redeem herself ... or at least give my ego a little boost.

"Tell me about the picture you drew at school, Julianna. What did your picture of you at 100 years old look like?"

"Well," she said, "I had gray hair. And I was wearing pants. Actually they were jeans."

I am a glutton for punishment, so I poked the stick at the hornet's nest and asked her, "Why jeans?"

"Because old people like you wear blue jeans all the time."

Pfffffffftttt...

Whatever little bit of air was left in my sails was now gone.

My daughter does indeed see me as old. Her perception is my reality.

But instead of focusing on the negative, I should really look on the bright side. I suppose it could have been much, much worse.

She could have called me old and lazy.