I don’t know about the rest of you, but it seems that I struggle with a daily battle of trying to figure out if I’ve been insulted or complimented. You’d be surprised how often I’m faced with this little predicament with three kids. I question everything they say to me. Take last night for example. I’d taken a bath and was letting my hair air dry when Maggie came out of her room and looked up at me and smiled and said, “Nice hair, Mom.”. Without thinking I said, “Thank you.”. Which only made her smile and reply, “Why does your hair always look like wrinkled clothes?”. Which made Bailey laugh all the way from the other room. “Wrinkled? What is that supposed to mean?”, I asked. “Well, it’s never straight.”, she said. Let’s see, how long has Mag known me????? Oh yea! Her ENTIRE life!!! And yet, my hair seems to be the bud of many jokes around here. “Of course it’s not straight. My hair is curly. You know that.”, I said. To which she responded by making a face that clearly said she was glad it was my hair and not hers. So, this morning, when Ryley said, “Nice shirt, mom!”. I automatically looked down at my shirt and said, “You don’t like it? Should I change it?”. I can hear the wheels turning in your head………………you’re thinking, she was just paid a compliment…………………but are you sure?????????? You see, after last night’s little hair incident, it just makes it hard to tell if I’m being paid a compliment. If I assume they’re actually being nice, I’m usually completely wrong. Take this morning for instance. Maggie, my seven year old daughter asked me to help her pick out her school clothes while she brushed her teeth. I assume most parents still pick out their kids clothes at this age. But, I have not been allowed to do this for her since she was in preschool. Maggie, like her older sister is concerned with style on many levels. Everything needs to compliment each other……..from her jewelry to her shoes to her nails. So, when she asked me to pick out her clothes I was feeling quite honored…………….especially after last night’s hair incident. Since our county has a dress code of collared shirts, I picked out a yellow polo shirt and a pair of dark, skinny jeans with a silver belt and a pair of silver sandals. She came out of the bathroom and took one look at it and said, “Mom, I’m not a cowgirl!”. Uhhhhh, Ok. Maybe it’s just me, but how did anything I picked out resemble cowgirl fashion? I was still trying to figure out what had just happened when she swept past me and into her closet. She pulled out one of her dresses, laid out all the matching jewelry, a pair of sandals and then began looking through the nail polish. Maggie has been at school for an hour now and I’m still confused at what happened. Am I finally crossing over? Am I…………………………old??????