I’m not sure where my kids heard the term “YOLO,” but they throw it around like a hot potato.
Me: Jace, why are you sliding off the couch head first?
Me: Gracie, those aren’t the right words…you’re creating your own lyrics.
See? This is what I have to deal with. Sometimes it has me rolling with a jolly good chuckle. Other times it has me rolling my eyes. Recently, though, YOLO became an adjective used to describe my rebel side. If you know me, you probably had to read that twice to be sure I said ‘rebel side.’ And I did. But you probably didn’t even know I had one, did you?
If you ask me, I’m fluffy and cuddly and hand out hugs like candy, but I’m not rebellious. Remember my post about jazz hands in my mixxed fit class? I have zero street cred. And I’m cool with that. Sometimes, though, my kids see something defiant in my nature and get all excited. Or they’re mocking me. Let’s say they’re excited, though, because even a teddy bear like me likes to have a twinkle in her eye.
So, when they see their father and I swapping paint on the go-kart track and call me a rebel, I enjoy that attention. When I go, “No hands!” while driving, the older two giggle and comment on how I’m living on the edge. Our youngest lectures me about safety, but he’s smiling too. It all makes my grin a little wider for a second, especially when one of them comments, “And I thought Dada was the fun one!” He really is, but it makes me feel good to have them question it every now and then.
Recently, though, that little guy, Tyler, has really been focused on being safe. That’s how I got my nickname. I had us cross the road to get to the library where there was no crosswalk. He held my hand tightly and nervously looked both ways repeatedly while we crossed. Upon getting to the other side without dying he let go and looked up at me. “Next time you go all YOLO Mama on us, could you make it slightly less dangerous?”
I promise you that he was in no danger. I also promise that I giggled. And yes, you can call me YOLO Mama. Word.