Baby, You're the Cats Pyjamas

The eleventh commandment would be: 'Thou shalt not embarrass the children'. We're already at the stage where the six year old shrugs off a maternal hug at school. I've just read a book where the teenage girl laments of her mother 'Why can't she just be cool?' Part of me thinks teenagers are so easily embarrassed nothing I'll do will be good enough. The other part really wants to be the cool Mum - not the weird 'best friend' Mum, but just a mother you're not embarrassed to be seen chatting over lunch with, or browsing through the clothes at Miss Selfridge or Top Shop. 'Dream on,' the pilot laughed when I told him about this. 'You'll be parked round the corner like all the other mothers.'

Maybe you remember a cool Mum - rarely are they your own, they normally belong to a close friend. My icon of motherhood was a stunning 6ft Australian who made juggling four children, a business, her art and three homes seem effortless. She took cool black and white photos of the children, and her kitchen was stocked with (then) exotica like Tahini and rice cakes rather than Mr Kipling and gravy browning. I'm sure to her own kids she was just their Mum, but to me she was a benchmark - something to aim for.

There are lots of us juggling like that now at school - Mums with careers indefinitely on hold, working flexibly or balancing their own businesses, creative work and home. The Mum who runs Snuglo - the baby company who designed the favourite ever top given to my son, juggles a company that is decidedly cool with home, children and dog. Their work is locally made, and is going to be in an upcoming V&A show on children's fashion. As the two year old clambers around the keyboard and scribbles over my notebook, (and you thought I wrote in an ivory tower ...) I'm looking at a photo of him a couple of months old, when smiling and dimples were still new, caught pointing at 'Uber Cool' on his tummy.

I found the little t-shirt at the weekend, when I was going through the very last box in the basement. It was labelled VIP linen - among the wedding, graduation and christening gowns, the bridal tiara from Angels & Bermans, the blanket knitted by my grandmother and the beanies the hospitals placed on tender new born heads, I glimpsed the words 'Uber Cool' and everything flooded back. Precious clothes are a link to our past - Justine Picardie recently wrote a beautiful book about her mother's wedding dress. Are you really good about clearing things out, or do you have a stash of things you'll never wear again, but just can't bear to throw out?

If you are old enough to remember this Robert Palmer video clip, you're of an era to remember how we all worked black lycra minidresses then. Every corridor was a catwalk. Hair was big, eyeliner was heavy - and that was just the boys. As well as winning 'college couple' in the end of year polls, my finest moment was coming runner up in the votes for the 'Mincing Queen' category after the only confirmed gay guy in the college. Now that my daily uniform is skinny jeans, uggs and forgiving washable smocks, I was amused to find in the linen box a dress that might just pass as a top these days. The models in the Addicted to Love video are responsible for a thousand, humourless, pouting teenage photographs. This dress was the closest a 17 year old in north Devon could get to Alaia - I dreamt of being as confident as Cindy, Linda and the girls. It's actually my second version of that dress - the first and best was 'borrowed' by a friend at university and never returned.

Seeing photos of this era for the first time in ages, I made an interesting discovery. I would not want to be that person again. Although the size 10 bod would be welcome now, the face in the photo is unformed, uncertain - unhappy even (see earlier posts about broken hearts ...). When was the last time you looked at photos of your teenage self - you might be surprised? I have a feeling our time is just beginning - we have been through young adulthood, and the testing early years with our children. We've survived - beyond the day to day stress, I feel ... cool. Though I am far from the 'cool Mum' of my dreams (in fact, I am rather the fractious, inadequate Mum easily pushed beyond her limits who would like to go and lie down in a dark room until The Book is in print ...) - though I have a long way to go, life goes by too fast to take yourself too seriously. I'm aiming if not for steely perfection, to be something better than that - content, imperfect, having fun - the cat's pyjamas.

TODAY'S PROMPT: The last time I remember wearing the dress was at a crab shack outside Ocean City, which we had belatedly discovered was dry. We picked up a couple of beers from the Circle K liquor store and ate rock lobster as old guys in stetsons waltzed their ladies round the dancefloor to 'just a gigolo', before driving down to the coast and walking barefoot on the boardwalk. Today, why not dig out something from your linen press - baby clothes, blankets, t-shirts worn to death but saved all the same. Write the story of your past - see where something once worn like a second skin takes you.