No Singing in
the Kitchen…and Other Teenage Rules
I
have a message for the military, for the House of Representatives, for the
Senate, for the Supreme Court, and yes, even for The President of the United
States. If you want to get valuable information
out of possible terror suspects, there’s no need to put them through sleep
deprivation, starvation, water boarding, or hard labor.
All
you need to do is lock them in a car with a two year old in the back seat,
stuff said car between thousands of other cars on the Long Island Expressway
and play Barney’s Greatest Hits over and over and over and over so that said
toddler does not throw a temper tantrum while mommy and daddy are desperately
cursing their decision not to take the Northern State. Trust me, after the 3,000th verse
of “I Love You, You Love Me, We’re a Happy Family” said terror suspect will not
only talk….he’ll dive to the bottom of the ocean and dig up Bin Laden’s body
just so the US can kill him again, anything to get out of that car!!
Yes,
the above scenario is not a scene straight out of the next Hollywood
Blockbuster. Horribly, it is a true
story. Said toddler happens to be my
now 14-year old Melissa. And let me
reassure all of the parents of the current Barney generation….they do grow out
of it!
Melissa’s
musical taste has certainly improved since her toddler years. When Barney became old hat, my daughter
entered into a long-term relationship with Disney. We sang along with The Little Mermaid as she traded
her fins for feet, danced along with Belle and the Beast, and marveled in
wonder on a magic carpet ride with Jasmine and Aladdin.
Eventually,
the Disney Princess phase gave way to the Hilary Duff phase, then the Hannah
Montana phase, then the High School Musical phase. Fortunately, my husband Bob and I intervened
and exposed her to classic music! No, I’m
not talking about Beethoven or Bach, I’m talking The Beatles. Today she has a full appreciation of the
world’s greatest band, and even joined us last summer when Sir Paul played the
Wells Fargo Center in Philly.
However,
despite her parent’s influence, peer pressure is stronger. Yes, the Beatles still rock, but she has
added a number of new groups to her repertoire of favorites, including The
Script, The Fray, Bruno Mars, and Maroon Five.
(Please don’t ask me how we escaped a Bieber obsession – with Melissa it
never took hold.) She likes being in the
passenger seat while I am driving, since I give her full reign over the radio. Each time a song comes on that she likes, she
quizzes me, “Mom, who does this song?”
Much to her frustration, I always
get the answer wrong.
I
tell her all of her songs sound the same, and she counters with the same argument. (Although I have to admit she has a point,
after all, Billy Joel and Elton John do have a similar style.) However, sometimes we’ll stumble on a song,
either her favorite or mine, that we both like, and we’ll sing together in the
car for a brief three minutes of blissful harmony. Little did I know the car would be the only place I would have permission to dare
sing what we have dubbed, “Melissa songs”.
A
few weeks ago I dutifully rolled up my shirt sleeves, walked over to the
kitchen sink and began the nightly routine of washing dishes. I had recently heard a catchy tune by The
Script, and the song, still stuck in my head, escaped through my lips and I
(egads!) started to sing as I scrubbed, making the daily task more tolerable.
“Mom,
stop singing that song!” Melissa demanded.
“Why
can’t I sing, we’re in the house, there’s no one around, there’s no need for
you to be embarrassed,” I asked in bewilderment.
“Because
it’s one of my songs,” she explained.
So,
based on her teenage logic, I have permission to sing “While My Guitar Gently
Weeps” while doing the dishes, but “Moves Like Jagger” would definitely be off
the table. Sigh.
Here
I imagined the kitchen to be a world without the restrictive commandments
placed on my head when I dare venture into the outdoor world with my
offspring. These include:
1.
There shall be no singing in public.
2.
There shall be no dancing in public.
3.
There shall be no hugging or kissing said offspring in public.
4.
There shall be no laughing in public.
5.
There shall be no smiling in public.
6.
There shall be no wearing of ugly red sweat pants in public
7.
There shall especially be no accompanying said offspring at the bus stop, because,
yes, you guessed it, that’s “public”.
What
Melissa does not realize is that her goody two shoes mother who never broke the
rules as a kid, has now become a rebel.
The more commandments that are established, the more I want to break
them. Why? Because it is so much fun to embarrass her.
But
I’d better break the rules with caution, because I’ve heard that punishment
involves being locked in the car with a toddler listening to “I Love You…You
Love Me….. We're a Happy...............NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteso true! Loving the blog
ReplyDeleteWhat have I done to my kids !!!!!!!!! I used to sing "I Love You, You Love me... all the time to my kids. Like a broken record. I like some of my teenagers's favorite songs, but most songs sound the same to me too.
ReplyDeleteLove this blog.