Last weekend, some of the kids in the neighborhood organized a lemonade stand. They mixed it up, dragged a table down to the corner, colored a bunch of signs, and handed out cup after cup of lemonade to indulgent passers-by.

I had absolutely nothing to do with it all. Except for supplying sugar, water, ice, and lemon juice – and mopping the kitchen floor afterward.

No, it was Kyle who reminded the kids of all the details they overlooked, made sure they had on plenty of sunscreen, and even bought a cup of lemonade. Me, I was ready to tell them to forget it as soon as Tacy burst into the house to get crayons and paper for signs.

I’m not the mom who opens up her house (and her refrigerator). I’m not the mom who organizes trips to the park and the movies. I’m not even the mom who volunteers at school – not even for the super-cool field trips. It’s just not me.

I come by my reticence to play hostess naturally. My mother wasn’t that mom either.

I had friends over to play. I had sleepovers and birthday parties. I even had a slumber party once. But our house was never a “hang-outâ€?.

Likewise, Tacy has friends over to play. She’s had sleepovers and birthday parties here. In a few years, I’m sure we’ll start hosting slumber parties. But just like my own mother, I don’t want to turn my house into a “hang-outâ€?.

Yes, I’ve heard many times that if you have all the kids over at your house, then you always know what’s going on. Sorry, but that’s not true. I’m not going to go into details, for fear of incriminating myself or others who read this blog and were party to my youthful indiscretions. Suffice it to say that kids are sneaky, even when they’re right under your nose.

It’s Kyle who’s the cool dad around here. Not only was he on hand to supervise the lemonade stand from start to finish, he took ten kids – TEN! – to the movies that Saturday. On BIKES! The man is clearly insane, at least from my point of view.

The weekend before that, we went to a birthday party. The hostess of the party called me to see Kyle standing in her backyard being whacked on the ass by a half-dozen kids. He was beaming even as he pulled them off.

He’s been this way since long before we had kids. In fact, it was his genuine enjoyment of kids that convinced me I could actually procreate with this guy.

I’m not really a mean mom. Not usually, anyway.

But I know my kids’ friends will never lament, “Geez, I wish MY mom were as cool as YOUR mom.â€?