The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
American Gothic
It’s that 4:30 p.m. try to avoid the meltdown moment with two girls of very different temperaments.
The younger one, Emily, has all the power, as she has discovered her shrill wail when the world is not bending to please her. Right now her 4-year old sister and I are doing our damnedest to make her happy. We decide to try music. She loves to dance if you can match her finicky mood with just the right song.
We hope to feel her rhythm.
“I know,” I say, “classical.” Mellow. I pray this will produce lyrical swaying, soothing moments for our dear toddler.
I put on Bach. She shakes her head. Mozart? Another no. Moonlight Sonata? She shakes her head harder.
We move on to contemporary. Her sister likes Ella Fitzgerald, but allows me to try Clapton. Emily starts to cry.
“But honey, it’s Layla, one of the all-time greatest songs!!!” Uh, oh. The crying gets worse. I grab for Putamayo, any country will do. Cuba, Pacific Islands, Tea Lands, all make her stamp her foot. I’m ready to give up. I’m tired and grumpy and I can only think of frozen food again to make for dinner. I decide this is not going to work. I may as well play the ‘80s music I used to dance to and get my own groove going.
“Here honey,” I tell her. “Mommy used to wear a lot of black makeup and dance to this kind of music in college!”
I put on The Cure, Head on the Door and start to dance. She looks uncertain. I still love this music and my older daughter and I start hopping. Forty year-old women can still dance a bad mood out even without the strobe lights! My little daughter starts to laugh, then rocks out and dances around the room.
We’re saved!
Do you think they sell Doc Martens at the Stride Rite outlet?
By Avvy Mar
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The younger one, Emily, has all the power, as she has discovered her shrill wail when the world is not bending to please her. Right now her 4-year old sister and I are doing our damnedest to make her happy. We decide to try music. She loves to dance if you can match her finicky mood with just the right song.
We hope to feel her rhythm.
“I know,” I say, “classical.” Mellow. I pray this will produce lyrical swaying, soothing moments for our dear toddler.
I put on Bach. She shakes her head. Mozart? Another no. Moonlight Sonata? She shakes her head harder.
We move on to contemporary. Her sister likes Ella Fitzgerald, but allows me to try Clapton. Emily starts to cry.
“But honey, it’s Layla, one of the all-time greatest songs!!!” Uh, oh. The crying gets worse. I grab for Putamayo, any country will do. Cuba, Pacific Islands, Tea Lands, all make her stamp her foot. I’m ready to give up. I’m tired and grumpy and I can only think of frozen food again to make for dinner. I decide this is not going to work. I may as well play the ‘80s music I used to dance to and get my own groove going.
“Here honey,” I tell her. “Mommy used to wear a lot of black makeup and dance to this kind of music in college!”
I put on The Cure, Head on the Door and start to dance. She looks uncertain. I still love this music and my older daughter and I start hopping. Forty year-old women can still dance a bad mood out even without the strobe lights! My little daughter starts to laugh, then rocks out and dances around the room.
We’re saved!
Do you think they sell Doc Martens at the Stride Rite outlet?
By Avvy Mar
Labels: '80s music, Clapton, Classical music, Ella Fitzgerald
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I remember the black make-up and dancing to the Cure, you were beautiful. Funny, my 7 and 4 year-olds love the '80s music too. Who would have figured? Hope the past twenty years have been good to you, they sure flew by.
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