Turns Out I'm a Little More Country and a Little Less Rock and Roll

I recently bought tickets to see the Zac Brown Band in October, and I started contemplating all the concerts I have seen over the years.  I thought, based on my ipod playlists, that I had pretty eclectic tastes.  I’ve got Barry Manilow, Hank Jr., the Beastie Boys, CeeLo, Conway Twitty, Def Leppard, Elvis Costello, Gotye, Harry Chapin, Ice Cube, Willie Nelson, Jane's Addiction, Janis Joplin, Juliana Hatfield 3, David Allan Coe, Kid Rock, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, The Byrds, Metallica, Michael Buble, N’Sync, Led Zeppelin, Juice Newton, Neil Young, U2, Neil Diamond, OMD, Ozzy, Paul McCartney, Pink Floyd, Pure Prairie League, Ronnie Milsap, Johnny Cash, Salt & Pepa, Sir Mix-a-Lot, the Sundays, and Taco, to name a few.  That’s eclectic, right? 

Then I started thinking about the concerts I’ve actually attended.  Turns out I’ve got a bit of a “type.” 

Beach Boys – this was my very first concert.

Coolio – ‘member?  He had that song?  I think it was 5 bucks a ticket in college.

Indigo Girls – and this was before I even owned Birkenstocks.

Reba – I’m kinda over her now . . .

Tony Bennett – I went by myself.  Hubby bought me a single ticket (so I actually had a really good seat) because he was promoting his Duets album and he’d be singing with James Taylor.

Free Bird!

Lynyrd Skynyrd – what?  Nobody else is wearing their sterling bead necklace?  This place was like a Jorts Convention. 

Toby Keith – the man can rock a stage and I can rock some Miller Lites.

Brooks and Dunn – we took Large to this concert in the Baby Bjorn when he was about 5 weeks old.  Best.  Parents.  Ever.

Alabama – I knew they were in town when I saw their trailer parked at the HoJo’s where I lived my freshman year of college.  (Long story.)

John Denver – I have great memories of sitting on the lawn at Wolf Trap listening to John Denver and his guitar.  To hear "Rocky Mountain High" live was to be close to God.

Kenny Rogers – he still sounds great but he needs to embrace his age.  Embrace it, Kenny.  Don’t fight it.

Justin Roberts - He's a children's performer, but his stuff is so catchy.  We're total groupies and we're  kinda stalking him.

Justin Roberts.  Hot, in that nerdy sorta way . . . 

George Jones – He showed up.  George Jones fans will understand why this is a big deal.

Phil Collins – I knew the words to EVERY song.  Hello 1988!

Genesis – not as good as Phil by himself.  Totally different vibe and many more old people mumbling about Peter Gabriel.

Toad the Wet Sprocket – College roomies were really into Toad.  If you are cool, you just call them Toad.  Toad.

Barry Manilow -  very sparkly.  Loves me some Barry.

James Taylor – um, I’ve seen him once or twice.  Hehe.  James Taylor is the only concert for which I’ve spent the night outside for tickets. (And it was in the 90’s, not the 60’s!)  I’ve seen him almost every year since 1992.  I’ve gotten his autograph, had my photo taken with him, and traveled to various cities to see him perform live.  I've been to the Today show more than once when he's been a guest.  I even saw him in concert 9 days before I delivered Large, when I was HUGELY pregnant and it poured rain.  I like him.  A lot.

Hello, James.  It's me again . . . 

Ben Taylor – James’s son. 

Kate Taylor – James’s sister.

Steve Miller – I was worried it wouldn’t be a great concert because of all the instrumental “stuff” they’ve got going on, but it was flippin’ awesome.

Chicago – so very 80’s.

Carole King -  it was a package deal with James Taylor.  She made me feel like a natural woman though.

Hootie and the Blowfish - bought the tix for Hubby because I thought he'd be psyched.  Big birthday disappointment.

Kenny Chesney – before he got big . . . I think he was opening for Toby Keith?

Simon & Garfunkel – Saw the Old Friends tour.  They are geniuses, and it’s a great memory because I saw them with my friend “Mary” who passed a few years later.

Bon Jovi – saw them in Vegas when we were on our Babymoon, and I’m pretty sure I got high from second-hand smoke.  It’s all good, man, but puff-puff-pass.

Don Henley -  he was at a charity gala, which is cool if you’re a big fan, which I am not.

Eddie from Ohio – used to see them in local bars.  Now I listen to Robbie Schaeffer on Kids Place Live.  My, how times have changed.

Keith Urban – I’m gonna say it . . . not a HUGE fan. 

Sugarland -  I group them in the Reba category.  A little too twangy and forced for my taste.  I’m more of an acoustic type of gal, and I always feel like I want to give her a lozenge.

GooGoo Dolls – in Seattle when Hubby was on a business trip.  Wore ear plugs.  I like them, but I’m in my 30’s for goodness sake.

Clearly I was born in the wrong generation.  I know all the words to "White Rabbit," but I can't tell you the difference between the GooGoo Dolls and Green Day, and don't get me started on the new boy bands.  I'm still trying to figure out how Justin Timberlake evolved from that curly-headed adolescent geek into the man who brought sexy back.

Funerals 101: A Public Service Announcement

My college roomie, Polly, recently lost her father.  I emailed her last week and told her I wanted to take her to lunch.  She has taken some time off of work, so she was home alone, and I just knew that she was sitting on her couch, in her sweats, unshowered, and wallowing in her grief. 

And that’s okay. 

I know because I’ve been there.

During our lunch, (which Polly attended under duress when I basically showed up on her doorstep uninvited . . . that’s how I roll,) we started discussing funerals, death, grief, sympathy, and all sorts of *happy* topics. 

“I’m surprised at how disappointed I am in some people,” she confessed.  I knew exactly what she meant.

“People I thought for sure would show up at the viewing didn’t even send a card,” I told her, referring to my own mother’s passing six years ago. 

“You know how on the TODAY show they do that eat-this-not-that segment?  They point out that you might think you’ve been eating the right thing, but all along you’ve been eating crap.  That’s how I feel about some of my friendships.  I guess they weren’t what I thought they were.  Now I feel . . . “

“Betrayed,” I answered.  

Hey, I know that feeling!  I had a girlfriend whom I had known for a long time, (but with whom I had lost touch,) who told me years after my mother’s passing that she had read the obituary in the paper, and yet she had never acknowledged my mom’s death.  I had assumed she simply didn’t know; but she had known all along and hadn’t reached out to me.  We had a shared history of slumber parties and carpooling and general adolescence, and she knew my mom, and yet she ignored this monumental event in my life.

Polly and I decided there needs to be an etiquette lesson for death – kind of like for a wedding or birthday or anniversary, except much, much sadder and with less festive clothing.  

I present to you, on behalf of BoyMommy and her trusty sidekick, Polly:

A Brief Guide: Do’s and Don’ts for That Funeral You Don’t Want to Attend But You’re Gonna Because It’s the Right Thing to Do.

1.  Don’t say "I don’t do funerals."  Nobody does funerals.  Funerals suck.  They’re sad and you make your ugly-cry face, and you realize you forgot your tissues and you have to borrow from the granny sitting next to you who has them stuffed up the cuff of her sweater.  Even if you only speak to the grieving family for a brief moment, or even not at all . . . they will look at the guest book later and know that you were there.  I was so out of it on the day of my mother’s funeral, I couldn’t tell you who was there; but I can sure as hell tell you who wasn’t.

2.  Acknowledge the death.  Send a card.  Send a plant.  Send an email.  Just act like you got the memo that your friend is grieving.  When you find out about a death, unless the person specifies otherwise, tell mutual friends and colleagues.  It’s not a secret, and it’s not gossip.  It’s information that needs to travel quickly.  This removes some of the “burden” from the family and it helps alleviate awkwardness when the grieving person returns to work after an extended absence and colleagues ask how her vacation was.

3.  Don’t worry about saying the right/wrong thing.  Grief is heavy, man.  Words can’t fix it.  So don’t try to come up with some phrase that will make it all better because NOTHING you say can make it better.  Say “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”  Say “I’m thinking about you.”  

I don't own this picture.
Probably shoulda asked first . . . 

On the other hand, please don’t say “she/he’s in a better place.”  F*ck that.  I don’t care right now – I want my loved one here with me because I’m feeling selfish and sad and I’m thinking about how much my whole life just changed.  

[A little personal anecdote: as I was headed to the restroom before my mother’s service, a woman I didn’t know offered her condolences and then added, “it’s too bad she didn’t quit smoking earlier.”  Yes, my mom was a smoker and yes, she died of lung cancer, and maybe it IS too bad she didn’t quit earlier, but she didn’t deserve to get sick.  No one does. ]

4.  Remember that grief doesn’t end after all the funeral festivities are complete.  You may be returning to work and school and your normal life, but your friend is still deep in grief.  Call to check in every once in a while, because she’s sitting there wondering how can people be filling their cars up with gas and buying milk at the grocery store?  Don’t they know my entire world has fallen apart?

5.  Show a little sensitivity.  When she does finally return to work, don’t send an email that begins “Sorry for your loss.  Now I need you to complete task XYZ.”   Separate emails dude.  Separate emails.

6.  Remember that funerals are for the living.  Just because you didn’t know the deceased doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go to the funeral.  Funerals are a time for the grieving family and friends to be embraced by their community, and this community is made up of MANY people: family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, former classmates, friends of friends, neighbors . . . MANY. 

7.  Share fun memories of the deceased.  People often shy away from telling stories because they worry that it will make the survivor upset.  Guess what?  She’s already upset.  Recalling a positive experience helps her remember the life that was led before sickness arrived. 

8.  Make some sacrifices and set some priorities.  Funerals are never convenient.  They are not generally scheduled around your personal timeline.   SOME things are more important; the rest of your life (with some exceptions, of course) can be rescheduled.  I know you think no one will miss you if you don’t go.  Perhaps not – but it will be significant to the grieving family if you DO go.

Trust me, my peeps.  I know of what I speak.

J. Crewsin' for Controversy

Apparently there’s a fresh new controversy surrounding a J. Crew ad in which a mother painted her son’s toenails hot pink.  Some people think it’s downright scandalous while others are shaking their heads and wondering what’s the big deal?  (I’m quite sure the mommy blogs are all abuzz regarding this “issue,” so I apologize for not having an original idea.)

My blog.  My opinion:

The photo, to me, depicts a mommy who has enjoyed some quality time with her son.  He is smiling and laughing and does not appear to have been given a pedicure under duress.  Nowhere do I see him restrained or threatened with bodily harm to his lovey if he doesn’t cooperate. 

Recently the news has featured dialogue sparked by a mother, who blogs under the name Nerdy Apple Bottom, who allowed her son to dress as Scooby Doo’s Daphne for Halloween.  This morning on Today she said, “I’m torn between the fact that I don’t want my children to be teased.  At the same time, I don’t want my children to feel that they always have to give in to what the world expects of them.”  Her primary concern was the reaction her son’s costume drew from the other Christian preschool mothers. 

Cheryl Kilodavis wrote a book called My Princess Boy about her son’s preference for dress-up clothes.  This morning on the Today show, Kilodavis raised a good point, saying that we are living in a culture that is becoming more conscious of bullying, and yet adults are setting a poor example by criticizing these children’s choices.  Kilodavis asserted that “teasing is a natural part of development” and that kids will always find something to tease about.  

I know my own children have been teased about their last name rhyming with weanie.  As a mother, it breaks my heart to hear that my children have been teased or that their feelings have been hurt, but it is part of growing up.  Being teased (a little) makes us stronger, helps us realize that words have power, and teaches us to be resilient.  Teasing becomes dangerous, however, when it turns into bullying.  Our jobs as parents, according to Kilodavis, is to help our children be the best they can be, not the best WE want them to be.  There’s a difference. 

The Culture and Media Research Institute is concerned that it is “gender-bending," that J. Crew is targeting the "mothers of gender-confused boys demographic," and that because the subject is a 5-year-old boy, it “significantly crosses a line.”  Um, which line would that be?  He’s five.  Chances are, he saw his mom with some brightly-colored paint, which is intended for fingers or toes, and decided he wanted to try some of that too.  If a five-year-old girl saw her daddy, (or in our family, Mommy, but I digress . . . ) using a screwdriver to make a minor repair, would the Culture and Media Research Institute contend that it was inappropriate? 

[News Flash, CMRI: it’s 2011.  Boys play with dolls.  Girls play with trains.  Daddies stay home with the kids.  Mommies are CEOs.  Boys love boys and girls love girls; it’s a whole complicated thing.  It’s called evolving.  Let’s try it, shall we?]

When Large was a few years younger, his best friend was a girl.  My girlfriend and I heard them giggling and playing and walked in to find them both dressed up in princess costumes.  It never occurred to me that his choice of clothing might be considered scandalous.  I have an adorable photo of him in a purple princess dress.  I’ll either keep it in order to embarrass him in front of his prom date or let him use it as his When I Knew moment.  Either way, it’s a fun picture of two children who were playing dress-up.  What difference does it make if the costume was a princess or a superhero? 

Medium likes to mess around in my makeup bin while I’m putting it on, and he’s been known to apply a little lip gloss or mascara.  But it’s more the novelty of playing with Mommy’s special stuff than any desire to wear makeup, and even if it were, does a little boy wearing makeup mean he’s a bad person?  A future serial killer/rapist/terrorist, perhaps?  Think about it . . . it’s ABSURD.  What he chooses to wear and the toys he chooses to enjoy at a young age are a means of independence, not an indication of future values.

I want my children to be able to express themselves in healthy, positive ways.  I have no idea why my  child wants to wear his t-ball uniform, complete with hat and baseball pants, every single ever-lovin' day.  Or why it is sometimes necessary to take a child dressed as Spiderman to the grocery store.  Or why one of them loves wearing his “handsome clothes” to church while I practically have to wrestle khakis onto the other.  Children want what they want.  Sometimes we need to say no to their outlandish requests, but no one likes to be told no ALL the time.  If the request – to wear nail polish, or a baseball uniform, or a Spiderman costume – isn’t harming anyone, isn’t dangerous or offensive, then say yes!  Kids need to be kids.

I think Kilodavis had it right when she said the “issue” with the advertisement (or Daphne, or the Princess Boy) isn’t with the children; it’s with the adults.  It’s about time the adults start acting like grown-ups and accept the responsibility of teaching our children to be good people; to live a good life; to think of others; to be productive and happy.  Outward appearance has little to do with core values.  Just ask my friend Mama Mia, who insists on wearing a Grinch Christmas sweater even though her friends staged a fashion intervention years ago.  Just because she dresses like an 80-year-old elementary school teacher doesn’t make her a bad person.  My youngest child is 13 months old and I still wear some of my maternity clothes so . . . helloooooo kettle!  It’s me, pot!

I realize there are many different opinions out there regarding the J. Crew ad and the wisdom, or lack thereof, of painting a little boy’s toes.  However, I find it disturbing and a little Big Brother-ish that watchdog groups are SO fired up about it.  Some people just need something to complain about.  I choose to see a happy child with a happy mama, and after a day of kid-wrangling and temper tantrums, I find it refreshing.  

Are You a Happy Mommy?

So I’m reading this book called The 10 Habits of Happy Mothers: Reclaiming Our Passion, Purpose, and Sanity by Meg Meeker, M.D.  Of course, I’m only on Chapter two because I barely have time to read it. 

I saw Dr. Meeker briefly on the Today show and decided that maybe I should check it out.  The premise is that mothers need to find what makes them happy.  It’s not a parenting book, and it's not about how to be a better mother; it’s about how to be a happy mother.  Two different things. 

Before I even purchased the book I started thinking about whether or not I would describe myself as “happy.”  Sadly enough, I don’t think happy is an adequate description.

1.    I’m often frustrated.  I spend the bulk of my time picking up.  I feel like my house is ALWAYS cluttered.  There’s stuff everywhere: legos, laundry, dishes, the little end pieces of the yogurt squeezables that they cut off and then leave sitting on the counter, books that Small has pulled off the shelves, carpet samples from a month ago when I had this brilliant idea that we need new carpet,  [The previous owners had girls. . . . and white carpet.  We have three boys.  White carpet ain’t gonna cut it in our home.] mail, magazines, clothes that need to be put away, stuffed animals, uncapped toothpaste, hangers, art projects, jackets that haven’t found their way to the closet because I’m apparently the only one in this household who knows where the closet is located, pacifiers, wayward sippy cups, baby gates, the Netflix movie that arrived weeks ago and still hasn’t been opened, empty wrappers, half-drunk juice boxes - the list is endless.  I know it is my responsibility to teach the boys to pick up after themselves, but there’s always more.

2.    I’m exhausted.  My job is not hard.  It’s not hard to drive the boys to various practices, it’s not hard to push them on the swings, and it’s not hard to do a load of laundry.  But it’s monotonous.  It’s the same thing over and over.  There’s always more laundry or more dishes or more vacuuming to be done.  It starts at 6:30 am and doesn’t end until I collapse into bed.  I often stay up later than I should, either watching some mindless show that allows me to veg for an hour, or reading, because it’s the only time I can carve out for myself.  I know I will be tired in the morning, but late at night is the only "me" time I have.

3.    I’m lonely.  I miss having colleagues with whom I had something in common.  I have plenty of mommy friends, but what draws us together is our children, not a mutual love of literature or a shared hobby.  It has been eight years since I was employed outside the home; I have now stayed home with the boys for as long as I was a teacher.  I plan to go back eventually, but for right now the time isn’t right. 

This is what HAPPY looks like . . . 

4.    I’m envious.  I admit it.  I am one of those women who looks at other mothers and thinks, “wow, she really seems to have her sh*t together.”  Motherhood is such an important job, and I don’t want to f*ck it up.  I don’t need my children to be perfect, but I want them to be happy.  I put so much pressure on myself to do all the “right” things that I set myself up for failure because a lot of it is beyond my control.  They are independent little beings, and my role is to help guide them.  I can’t MAKE them be happy, and it’s difficult for me to relinquish that control. 

5.    I’m lucky.  I have healthy children, and that, in itself, is a blessing beyond words.  I know that this is not always the case.  Things happen.  Babies get sick.  Pregnancies fail.  Bad things happen to good people.  I can’t explain why we got so lucky, but I know that I should wake up every morning and be thankful for our health and many, many other gifts.  This is something with which I have always struggled.  Intellectually, I KNOW I have been given SO much and I have a lot for which to be thankful.  And yet “happy” is not a word I would use to describe myself.  What the hell is wrong with me?

As I said, I’m only on chapter two of 10 Habits, but already the author has suggested a couple things that have forced me to be introspective:

• that mothers need to recognize their own importance.  This is difficult when you’re trapped beneath a huge pile o’ laundry, you’re out of juice boxes, and you’re force feeding green beans to unwilling participants.
• Mothers need to continue to cultivate their own friendships with other women.  Again, easier said than done since many of us are trapped in the same whilrlwind of activity, none of which is mommy-centric.

There.  I have bared my soul.  It’s a rainy, gray day and I’m afraid my mood matches the weather.  I tend to convince myself that external things will make me happy and I know I need to look inside myself because that’s where it resides.  I’m not unhappy, but I’m not happy, which makes me wonder how other mothers view themselves.  I think we tend to portray ourselves as we want others to see us, but that’s not necessarily our Truth.  Ask yourself: how do you think other mothers view you, as opposed to how you view yourself?  I’m curious.

On a side note, if you ask Medium, he’ll tell you, “coffee.  Coffee makes Mommy happy.”  ;)