Seriously. I’m Not Taking Myself Seriously Any More

See this picture? SILLY! Ridiculous. Birds flying in a circle over my head. That’s crazy, right? And not just the birds, there’s other really silly stuff going on here at the Hergenrader House.
 Like what? I’ll tell you. I’m the kind of person who jumps on the back of the shopping cart and rides it around Target. My kids think it’s hilarious. Until we hit something. Then they think its’ REALLY HILARIOUS.
And when I’m not taking preposterous pictures or knocking down Target displays, I’m lending silly voices to the other cars stopped on I-10. Stop all the hilarity, it’s all so fun and crazy around this Hergenrader house because this mama knows how to have fun!
Only, lately, I’m feeling not so fun. Or laid-back. Or silly. In fact, in the past two weeks there’s been mounting evidence that I might need to chill out a bit. Or maybe not. 
First bit of evidence…over lunch a friend was telling me about a fortieth birthday party she had gone to. She told me about all the crazy drinking and dancing and carrying on. Then she said, “You would have hated it.”
“What?!” I asked. “Why would I hate that?”
“Oh, you know. Because it was all so immature.”
I know this is exactly what she said because I’ve replayed the conversation several times in my head. I love immature! Does it not seem like I don’t love immature? When did this happen?
Second bit of evidence…Two weeks ago I took two five-year-olds to jump on those trampoline bungee things at the mall. It was seven dollars for three minutes (per kid) so clearly each of the kids only jumped once. I mean, fourteen dollars for three minutes. To me, it was obvious they’d better do their jumping in those three minutes because that was all we were doing.
Unfortunately, this was not so clear to the five-year-olds. When I told them it was time to go, they went bezerk. It didn’t help when another mom was also there. To her kid, she was like, “Sure, darling, jump for 47 hours, if you want! As long as you’re having a good time!”
Who was this woman and could I also say that without spoiling my kids? 
I had already said no, so I stuck with the no. But a little part of me was wondering if it would be such a terrible idea to cave and say,”Oh wow. I didn’t realize how much y’all loved jumping. Here’s another fourteen bucks!” Because, really, who cares. We didn’t have any place else we needed to be. In truth, I would have paid seven thousand dollars to stop the shrieking from these two little girls. So, really, the fourteen dollars was nothing. Because I’m a strict (too serious?) mom,  I NEVER chose my battles. I ALWAYS stick with my guns. Is that being a good parent? Or just a rigid one?
Third bit of evidence: Last week M and I were having a discussion about how I’m really disciplined about stuff like not watching TV or drinking or whatever. And he said, “You’ve always been an old soul.” Huh? I don’t see myself as an old soul at all. I see myself as seventeen-year-old in the failing body of a thirty-eight-year-old. Who wants to be an old soul? If I’m acting like an old soul now, am I acting like an eighty-year-old?
Fourth bit of evidence: I write this blog every day at our athletic club. Right now I’m drinking hot tea and eating a spinach salad. Next to me is a table of women (my age) who are wearing really skimpy workout outfits and laughing about some skinny-dipping extravaganza. Should I want to wear a skimpy outfit to the athletic club? Does my spinach-eating and tea-drinking in this scenario prove I’m rigid and not fun? Who enjoys skinny-dipping when they’re forty? Do you, reader? Isn’t that cold?