"I didn't have a smartphone." "There was no such thing as Snap Chat, Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr" "Netflix didn't exist" "We used typewriters and here's a shocker, pen and paper" "We did math without calculators" I can't believe I stooped that low to actually bring out the ol "When I Was Your Age" one liner to my kids. Goodness, my grandparents don't even do that. But if they did I truly WOULD listen because I know it would be good stuff. Anyway.... Do you know how irrelevant my past in terms of using typewriters and eating kale for breakfast is to my 12 year old daughter? It only shows her how old I really am. It used to bug the crud out of me when adults would detail walking 2 miles in the snow to school. Now, in my own way, I'm doing the same thing. News flash. My kids don't care. My childhood, in terms of what I had and didn't have, has no bearing on their life at the present. My son seems to think I lived prior to modern conveniences. He loves to go to antique stores and pick out items such as a butter churner only to ask "Mom, is this what you used when you were a girl?" Hey, just because we had a rotary phone with a 50 foot curly cord and a black and white TV doesn't mean I'm old, those were simply items my parents CHOSE to have. Yeah, OK, whatever. Some of the stories of my youth the kids really DO like and ask me to tell them again. Like when I snapped a boy's underwear in 3rd grade on a dare or kicked a boy in the shin for teasing me or making a football touchdown in 4th grade with a team of boys, or knowing every word by heart to the Grease soundtrack, or cheating on my Bible memory verse tests, or throwing my poopy underwear in the creek because I was afraid to tell my mom I had diarrhea (yes, this really happened, yes I was very young, yes I needed therapy and yes, I am really sharing this.) But, it's the real stuff my kids dig. Of what never to do, that is. Although, yesterday I heard my daughter singing in the shower. Yep, you guessed it. Word for word. The Grease soundtrack. Proud mom moment.