Little Guy and I were getting ready to walk out the door to make the quick drive to school, when he turned to me and said, “You can’t wear that, Mom.”

I looked myself over.  Granted, I wasn’t at my best.  But it was 8 a.m.  In my defense, old running pants and a T-shirt is certified mother attire at that time of day. And I wasn’t even going to be getting out of the car.

He said it again. When I asked him why he cared, his answer was quick and simple. He didn’t want me to embarrass him.

Had we gotten to this point already?

Both Big Guy and Little Guy have wanted me to lay low for a while. I’m used to reading the sign language they communicate with when others are around.  I see the eyes flickering telling me not to approach. But embarrassing them?  This twist was new.

Contemplating the turn our relationship was taking, I willingly slipped on the other acceptable mother uniform. Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt.  Even a baseball hat for good measure. But I was curious. Had we really entered this phase?  The boys are only ten and eight.  How much embarrassment could I possibly provide?

As it turns out, plenty. It didn’t take long for them to come up their list of don’ts.

When they’re playing with their mutual best friend, who happens to be my best friend’s son, and we’re all together, they can do without the two of us singing, dancing or being generally silly, which apparently, is quite embarrassing for them.  Along those lines, when they’re sitting around the kitchen with their buddies, having a snack, I should never try and join the conversation. Despite what I migh think, I am not cool.  

If they are talking to an adult, whether it’s a coach, a teacher or parent, please don’t walk up and take over the conversation. They are capable of finishing what they started. They’ll include me if necessary.  I shouldn’t even think about calling them by their nicknames when in public places.  They’d appreciate it if I don’t ask them if they’re hungry or thirsty when they’re with their friends.  As a matter of fact, it would be best if I just don’t walk over to them if they’re with their friends.  They’ll find me.

I need to resist the urge to yell, “I love you” out the window as they walk away.  Don’t mouth it either, because everyone knows what I’m saying. And, from left field, on the slim chance that Really Big Guy and I decided to be a little loopy and kiss in public, we should remember how disgusting this is. And, of course, how embarrassing it is for them.

I had been given my list.  A box I had been asked to operate in.  And with that came two new parenting lessons. The first being not to ask a question unless you’re prepared to hear the answer.  Sure, it took a little coaxing to get them started, but within a few minutes, the floodgates were open.  The second one being that sometimes, we’re so blinded by our love for our children and the role we serve as mothers, we don’t always see clearly when they’re ready to be out there without us.

As parents, we promote independence.  We potty train them.  We show them how to put their homework and books back in their backpacks when they’re done. We tell them that they’re old enough to get their own bowl of cereal, complete with pouring the heavy, filled milk.  We let them start their own showers, hot water and all.

If we’re doing a good job, we shouldn’t be surprised when they tell us we’re embarrassing them.  It simply means they’re ready to take all this and move it to the outside world.  

It is then that we realize we only have our list of don’ts because our children can do.

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.