Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother's Day in the US, and I was treated to a lovely spa day by my considerate family.  After a long morning of sleeping-in, I was whisked by limo to hours of massages, facials, pedicures...

Of course, that day actually occurred in some strange, alternate universe. 

Instead, my day began at 7, when I got up early to clean the house for the in-laws, who were coming over for brunch. I also had to cook that brunch; good thing I bought the ingredients the day before in between takes at the dance studio. 

(It was Dance Picture day on Saturday, complete with costume changes and make up on 8 year old's face; we're talking mascara here. All I can say is: SHUDDER)

I really don't mind about the cooking and the cleaning; would take that over standing in a two hour line to eat a meal at a crowded restaurant any day. Plus, when I serve the meal at home, we get to linger over our mimosas as long as we want without an annoyed waiter hovering and clearing his throat in a "We really need that table NOW" way.

No, the true fun began when I had to get 8 year old kid (who had to be changed into costumes and make up the day before, remember) into suitable church clothes. She was singing in the choir - in fact, she had a solo of six words long - so she had to look presentable.

Let me just share a quick secret with you all: she could go to church in cut-offs and a hole cut into a tablecloth as a poncho, and I wouldn't care. Heck, she could wear that dance costume from the pictures. My feeling is: I got my family to church relatively clean, what more do you want?

But no, "certain other people" (husband) don't agree. So I had to bully and chivvy kid into skirt - I know, the horror - and shirt that didn't have a T in front of it. 

After church, the day went well. The waffles turned out crispy and delicious. The mimosas flowed. the bacon disappeared in 30 seconds... all was right with the world. 

I even got to sneak upstairs for a ten minute nap at one point. Winning!

The true festivities, however, began at eight o'clock at night. That was when my daughter remembered she needed to bring in a book about the planets, with many planetty facts, to school on Monday. Yes, the classic "I just recalled my homework that I had all weekend to do" move which makes all parents want to curl up in a fetal position.

EXCELLENT gift!

There are no libraries or bookstores open at 8 PM on Sunday in our town.

Therefore, Mother's Day ended for me by writing a book on planets, complete with pictures, and printing it out. Did you know that Pluto was no longer a planet? You want to know why? Because its kids drove it to a gaseous death, that's why.

Finally got kid into bed and settled down to Mad Men with my husband. I admit I was eyeing up the Mimosa leftovers. Was just about to pour, when my daughter's bedroom door opened - she had a nightmare and I had to go and lie down with her and put her to sleep, again. I blame the waffles.

So, Mother's Day for me (and, I suspect for many others) was truly a MOTHER'S day. I was a mom in every sense of the word. 

All day long.

The Ups and Downs of Music

My kid is seriously getting into music. She joined the choir, and she discovered iTunes.

We are thrilled about both things. Seeing her in that group of little kids, all singing away, is great. However, as much as I'd like to think I've birthed the next Adele, my kid can't sing. She is tone deaf. Her pitch has Ceased to Be, if it ever lived at all.

Still, it's all good. We wear earmuffs to church and smile and nod.

Now, about the iTunes thing: my husband and I are huge music lovers. We used to go to concerts all the  time, in the era Before Kid. Back in the day, I'd throw on my ripped jeans and safety pins and go and see Iggy Pop, or  the Ramones, or David Bowie. For Hub, the band of choice was always E-Street. Bruuuuuuuuuuce!

So, I'm happy to listen to real, adult music with my child. She loves Beyonce, and Katy Perry, and Lady Gaga, so our music tastes don't quite mesh, but again: it's all good.

The problem comes when I actually listened to the  lyrics of some of the songs out there. In fact, some of the bubble gummiest, poppiest songs are all about drinking and going to parties way after hours and having a menage a trois while you're at it. I'm looking at you, Ke$ha.

Now, I'm not a hater, hatin on Ke$ha. Obviously it's working for her. However, it's a tough choice to make: Allow kid to listen to that song or Don't allow. My daughter, after all, is only in second grade!

So, should I tell her, There's no way you're going to listen to that noise? or do I let her listen to only the clean versions? And what, exactly, is the clean version of a song called "Promiscuous?"

The choice should seem simple: protect my kid at all costs. Here's the thing though. When I was in seventh grade, my parents listened to nothing but classical music. (That's not quite true, we did have that one Simon and Garfunkel album from Mom's beatnik phase.)

As a result, I listened to nothing but classical music. And, one day, in Music class, the cool music teacher handed out crossword puzzles all about rock musicians and songs by Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd....

I didn't know the answer to a single clue. Not one. I turned in a blank paper. And I've never forgotten that.

So, I'd like her to be able to listen to music, the  kind her friends all seem to have on their iPods. I've insisted on a few rules: Stick with the clean versions, stay away from songs that glorify abusive behavior, and approach everything with a sensible point of view.

My daughter asked me, after I had to ban a certain song from her playlist, "Mommy, why do so many songs have bad words in them?"

"I don't know, sweetie," I  replied. "I just don't know."