It's a new dawn around here. My son turned 13 and got a girlfriend a week later. And overnight we've become embarrassing parents.
You spend all these years trying to maintain some semblance of cool and suddenly, in the flick of a knife, it's gone. What's next...carpet slippers, Inspector Morse DVDs and bad dancing?
I'm not ready for this. Perhaps the greatest litmus test of all is when I drop my son off at school and find myself checking out, not what the other mothers or teachers are wearing (as if) but the sixth form fashion wandering in and out. Hmm, I think, while the car veers dangerously off course, nice top I wonder if it's Zara?
I'm not a teen Mum (by a long stretch) and I'm not ready for the jumbo corded cocoon of middle age either. Where does that leave me?
At my age my parents were kicking back with a gin and tonic and Mozart's Horn Concertos on the record player. They were not dragging their children to festivals or shooting tequila with their mates. When my mother took me to Top Shop she did not rifle through the racks, squeezing into the changing room to try on her own pair of skinny jeans. Hers was a classy world of silk shirts, checked wool skirts and cashmere twinsets. She looked great but I'm more in the Donatella Versace way of things.
Still I can take comfort from the fact that I'm not alone. Look at Paul McCartney with his dyed hair and Converse (good look Macca), or Madonna flashing her nipples (er, not so great).
Granted there are certain things in my wardrobe I should probably consign to history quite soon (or maybe to my son's girlfriend). The once-worn silver high tops immediately spring to mind ..I wonder when her birthday is?