I am a 30 something year old mama to my matchy matchy kids. Little Bigger L is our four year old comedian and chief mess maker. The Little-er L is our two year old spicy ray of sunshine. Married to my best friend (schmaltzy I know) Seriously Daddy. I adore him even though most days he drives me crazy but I couldn't have this life without him. Like it or not, I am a former Geologist, pro choice, Planned Parenthood supporting, reality TV junkie, funky leather goods addicted, slightly earthy crunchy, semi angst ridden and some would even dare to say therapy needing stay at home mom living in a town that should be totally erased from the map, once we get the heck out of here.
No, not that way. Jeez. Mind out of the gutters, people. Seriously.
It's 10:00pm and I haven't opened my laptop for over 12 hours. That's busy. There were trips to the doctor, pizza parlor (for them not me HASAY-ers, I had a salad) a Target excursion, and then my dear husband surprised me with a "I'm really proud of you" card and a little cash-ola for a mommy me time shopping trip which I gladly accepted because my jeans are falling off my shrinking hips and I really wanted to buy a new pair of shoes which I totally don't need but I really wanted.
Whew, how was that for a run on sentence? Mad skills I tell ya.
I'll be back tomorrow and promise to do a real post tomorrow but for now I will leave you with this because I have missed my last two Flashback Friday's. It's the last song I heard on my iPod tonight and totally stayed in the driveway until it was over. One of my favorites.
Today's flashback isn't really all that random. But it's my blog and I can do what I want to. Neeeener neener neener...
Every Tuesday night Chag from Cynical Dad does his famous Nameless Twitter Radio Show and last weeks theme was breakup songs. My pick for the night was a Morrissey song because seriously, is there anyone else who can sing a break up song better than Morrissey? But since it's no secret that I am a huge cheeseball, hair band loving, wanna be rocker, I tweeted that my runner up pick was Skid Row's "I Remember You." Morrissey or Skid Row. Which one do you think Chag played? Umm yeah. I was punked. He called me out on my hair band loving geekness and played "I Remember You." Chag, you are my hero. Seriously. You picked Skid Row over Morrissey. I bow to your greatness.
If the Buzz Kills wouldn't have been sleeping I would have really rocked out last Tuesday to a little Sebastion Bach but being the good mother I am, I let them sleep and quietly watched the YouTube video and thought about that rat bastard who broke up with me in 1993. Ahh the memories. Isn't that right Seriously Daddy?
So to make up for missing the opportunity to rock out Tuesday night while dancing around the house in my wifebeater and boxers, I turned my iPod up and blew out my eardrums with a little hair band rock while running on that beast of a treadmill the following day.
I did however break out the Morrissey Tuesday night. Staying up way too late listening to that voice from God isn't always a bad thing. Morrissey's voice could melt steel, it's smooth like buddah. And I'm all about spreadin' the buddah today...
Happy Friday and dance, people, dance. Even if it is in your boxers and wifebeater alone in your house at night...
I lost 2.6 pounds this week, per the scale at my Weight Watchers meeting. So you know that's official. Then I came home and had a beer and some nachos. Dammit. Back to the grind tomorrow. I am halfway to where I want to be for Doomsday, otherwise known as the TRIATHLON. I am seriously insane. Send medication.
This weeks flip of the iPod touch is courtesty of the Bigger of the Little L's. As the two of us were on our way to preschool this morning he asked if he was big enough to listen to my iPod. I cringed a little and then handed it back to him.
This is the song that was cued up when I dropped him off...
Appetite for Destruction circa 1987. Awesome. And the best thing about this song? Slash was totally screwing around when he came up with this riff. It was supposed to be a joke. Twenty one years later it's still one of the most recognizable guitar riffs out there.
Who didn't love it? Who didn't think GNR was cutting a new path in rock upon release of this album?
" I like tha song and the way they dress, but the singer sounds like a dying cat and he lookd like s hippy. he dances like micheal jackson. maybe its his real dad!!"
The only response I have to that? Shut up, try to learn something, help make this world a better place and go get your free Dr. Pepper, kid.
After a quick flip through my iPod the Flashback Friday song of the day is...
Good Things
by the
BoDeans
Sunlight fall down on the fields
Sunlight fall down over me
Work all day, be all that I can be yeah-heh
Say I can say words only simple
Say I can say words only clear
But, oh, I can feel your heart is beating near. Yeah-heh
Haunted love is all that I feel, when you're passing by
Haunted love is all that I see, it's there in your eyes
And I say
No, no, no, don't pass me over
No, no, no, don't pass me by
See I can see good things for you and I
Yeah, good things for you
Give I can give love and attention
Give I can give all time away
Only to one heart I can give today
Be I can be man full of color
Be I can be man black or white
But only to one heart I can be tonight
Haunted love is all that I feel, when you're passing by
Haunted love is all that I see, it's there in your eyes
And I say
No, no, no, don't pass me over
No, no, no, don't pass me by
See I can see good things for you and I
Yeah, good things for you
Haunted love is all that I see, it's there in your eyes
And I say
No, no, no, don't pass me over
No, no, no, don't pass me by
See I can see good things for you and I
Yeah, good things for you
Circa 1991. Babydoll dresses, flannels and Doc Martens. Mom constantly yelling at me that I dressed like a slob. Me smearing on more black eyeliner and slamming the door. Grunge was getting cool. No 16 year old should like a local classic rock band. One of many more times I would go against the norm. This local band played free concerts at the lake all summer. You know, the place where 16 year olds can go and do 16 year old things while listening to some great local music. Wishing they would notice the 16 year old kids who follow their every move.
17 years, 1 husband, 2 careers, 4 homes in 4 different cities, 7 misfit dogs and 2 kids later, I still love to see them live. These guys put on the most awesome, truly about the music, audience driven show you will ever see.
You know how you hear a song and it immediately brings you to your happy place. This is that song for me.
I hope you can find your happy place today.
Here's a little video (albeit a terrible one, but it was the only one I could find) of the BoDeans doing what they do best.
It's no lie that I love me some Motown Soul. It's in my genes. And my dad? The biggest Motown fan around. Seriously Papa's got some rhythm and although he is way to proud to show it on most days, he's one cool dude. Growing up in North Minneapolis during the 50's and 60's will do that to a person, ya know. I have always secretly loved hearing stories of what a badass he was. Drafted by the NHL but never played because he broke both legs during a varsity playoff game. One of the youngest drill sergeants to ever train troops for Vietnam. Harley riding, trade school teaching, Nuclear (not Nucleeeahhr) Power Plant building, badass. Seriously Papa is also the most honorable, stoic, responsible, intelligent, classy, respectable, humble persons I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. If my son turns out to be half the man that my dad is, he'll do amazing things for this world.
I can remember riding in the jumpseat of my dad's 1978 green ford pickup truck, singing to the Spinners until my sister and I could barely speak. Stopping for White Castle Sliders, heading to the airport and watching the planes fly over us. Those little moments in time spent with my dad are permanently etched into my soul. Those memories have made me who I am.
The coolest chick rockin' the Spinners this morning.
Or something like that.
So, enjoy a little Spinners tune courtesy of You Tube and my dad.
And I have been thinking about this for a while now. And because today was a pretty great day (the L's and I spent the day at the zoo and we had a super fab time) I thought tonight was the perfect night to start this...
Each and every Friday I am going to randomly pick a song off of my iPod and do the why's, who's, how's and whatev's. Music has always been a huge part of my life (Hi, my name is Brenda and I am a card carrying band geek and damn proud of it) and since this blog was really started for my kids as a little peek into who their mom really is, music should be a big part of this blog. I owe a big thanks to the coolest chick that I have never met, Rock and Roll Mama, for just randomly sending me a nice little email and giving me that little boost of confidence. I have just recently discovered her blog but I seriously (have you figured out how this blog was titled yet?) think she is my "sista from another mista." Even though she is all like a real writer and stuff. And I am all like just hacking my way through this.
I should preface this by saying that I have a very eclectic musical library. Don't be surprised at what's on there. Hair bands to Swing. Techno to Bluegrass. Indie to Euro Pop. It's all on there.
It's 1986. Summer of 1986. I'm 11 and a half. Because everyone who is 11 wants to be older and saying your 11 and a half is way better than only being 11. I have this bratty 9 year old sister. My mom makes me do everything with her. She tags along on all of our bike rides, hikes past the boyscout camp we lived next to, gossip sessions and secret picnic lunches. My mom really just sends her as a spy because she (read: Mom) thinks I am troubled and wants to make sure I am okay. I am not troubled, I am just not like every other kid and not like the kid my mom wants me to be. Anyway. The girls and I had a secret place in the woods next to the boyscout camp called "Bubble Land." We were 11. That's what 11 year old girls name their secret place. Get over it.
Bubble Land came to be the place where I could escape all the crap going on at home. You know, a place to escape all of the 11 year old drama. That Christmas before I was given a walkman and a cassette tape of Thriller from my Uncle Bob. Gave Thriller to my bratty sister so she would leave me alone. It worked. For a little while. That walkman (which I totally still have) became my therapy. It became my window to this big world. As big of a world as an 11 and a half year old Minnesota girl can be exposed to.
Every afternoon that summer I would take that walkman (making sure I had fresh batteries) and a coke and sneak away from my sister, meet up with my friends and end up in Bubble Land listening to KQRS-FM, a station that my older uncles listened to. Scandalous for an 11 year old. And that's when this Minnesota bred, blond haired, green eyed, chubby, naive to the ways of the world, suburban girl heard Rock Me Amadeus by Falco. It was electronic, head bopping, dark and so refreshing all at the same time. I was cool and no one else my age had to know it. I was cool and I knew it.
Fast forward...
It's Spring Break 1994. I am a freshmen in college. This blonde haired, green eyed, naive, still a bit chubby but totally growing into her curves, Minnesota girl is now a Geology majoring, earthy-crunchy, Birkenstock wearing, ratty old college sweatshirt tied around her waist, rock girl. Literally.
My boyfriend (you know the one. The guy who your dad thinks is a total smart ass. The one who is trying to mack on his daughter. The one who is nothing like your dad and he will never understand. You know the one. The one you marry 6 years later.) and I are packing up Dad's truck for our Spring Break trip to Brown County Indiana for the annual Geo Club - Geode Hunt. No beach blanket bingo for this girl. We are meeting our fellow Geo Clubbers (read: heavy beer drinkers) at the park and ride for the start of our 8 hour road trip. We pull into the parking lot, blasting "Rock Me Amadeus" (get it, ROCK me Amadeus) ready for the time of our lives. Ready to be independent, ready to be adventurous, ready not to be arrested, ready to be adults. Sort of.
Fast Forward...
It's March 2005. My son has just taken his first breath a few hours before. I stare into his eyes, not quite knowing who he is or why they are going to let me take him home tomorrow. On the radio that sunny afternoon in the hospital room I hear "Rock Me Amadeus." I smile at my son, knowing that if he came from that blonde haired, green eyed, Minnesota girl, he'll be fine.
So, enjoy a little Falco courtesty of YouTube. Happy Friday!
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