Usurped

As a mother, when Nikela arrived almost 14 years ago, I realized that my identity was forever changed. Not only did a little bug rename me, "Mommy," but her friends would soon refer to me as Nikela's mom. Then of course, grandparents immediately dote on the darling new grandchild, and suddenly parents become transient ghosts that merely serve as a vehicle for children.

I'm all okay with that.

However, I think my blog has officially been usurped.

A few weeks ago Kiahra asked to be a guest blogger, and I consented. Then I read her entry and decided she should just have her own blog. It was good stuff. Within a few days I convinced or possibly coerced Nikela to join the party. Only in the 21st century would a mother attempt to convince her child to blog. Only in my house would the mother try to establish a blog for her daughter. In other households, kids frequently develop their own sites hoping their mothers DON'T find out.

Anyway, my one and only teenager (thus far) loves to torment me. Some time ago, she started intentionally wearing mismatched socks. I am a mother who matches socks. Her discovery resulted in a new trend that I had to force myself to ignore, and admittedly, she was right, it irritated me...completely. Therefore, when I created the name, Different Socks...Different Thoughts, for her new blog and proceeded to develop her page I was acknowledging her craziness and she accepted that. Fully coerced into the blog, she topped it off with a green background that makes my eyes go buggy and a pile of mismatched socks that makes me cringe, but it is as irresistible as her blog is to me.

Last night, as I sat at the table with Ron chuckling at one end and Kiahra giggling at the other, but each tuned into their computers...and here comes the irony...reading Nikela's blog. I realized it was official. I have been usurped by my daughter...actually daughters. Kiahra's blog, Tween Sass, is just as popular at my house and with my family. Overnight, my daughters had followers and more comments than I have ever received. Pouting? Yes.

Their quirky, wacky outlook is entertaining. It is even good. Admittedly, even I look forward to their writing with anticipation. Proud? Yes,

BUT...

(sing with me now...)
It's my blog, and I'll pout if I want to
Pout if I want to, pout if I want to
You would pout too if it happened to you

Who needs Broadway with this rendition on Squire Place??