A few weeks ago, Esther and I and our oldest girls were in the South of France visiting a local market. At one of the market stands, some great, cheesy Euro 80’s pop music was blaring out of a little stereo. Of course, we launched straight into some rather impressive dance moves (if I may say so myself). The interesting thing was the children’s reaction: Violette, who is 4, joined us with great enthusiasm. Meanwhile Sara and Coco, 7 and 6, started cringing with embarrassment. And just like that, without realising it, Esther and I have moved into a new dimension of motherhood: we are now potentially embarrassing mothers. Up to now we could do no wrong; now we have become a occupational hazards.
I still remember this feeling of embarrassment vividly. I was embarrassed by my father’s favourite overcoat, by my mother’s French accent, and by numerous other ridiculous things. I also remember my parents noticing that I was embarrassed and being amused by this, which, at the time, I found very, very unfair. I never took into account that this would come full circle and I would become the object of embarrassment myself. And once the ball has started rolling, there is no turning back; it is now a slippery slope all the way toward the teenage years.
The hilarious thing is that I am reacting just as my parents did, as it is quite amusing seeing Coco cringe at my actions. It is certainly not going to stop me from playing air guitar in public whenever the opportunity arrises!
P.S. The photo above is of Coco doing some method acting of looking embarrassed for a very staged photo, in case you were wondering…