Motherhood Uncensored

Of Minds and Music

*Happy NoMoNaBloPoMo! Enjoy The Blog Exchange today! Oh, and Fenicle is the winner of my survey giveaway. Thanks to everyone who took it!

While I hold a couple of degrees in music, I tend to stick to crocs, poop, and 'roids here on this blog. I'm no certified bad shoe expert (and not really a music one either), but long days and nights of chasing down energetic kids makes me less interested in pontificating about the quality of children's music out there today and more about the state of their potentially dangerous ugly footwear.

Plus, there are fine people out there that have plenty of opinions about children's music that you should probably listen to.

It's not necessarily because I don't care about music my kids listen to. It's because I think music is extremely personal and much of it really depends on your own preference.

Granted, like food, there's definitely well crafted, exquisitely delivered music. And then there's some real crap out there. But who am I to say that your McDonald's hamburger is gross and disgusting? If it satisfies you and makes you happy, then more power to you.

Keep in mind that I'm a music therapist. My job was never to espouse the great aesthetics of a musical piece but more so about finding music that reached, touched, and moved people. And for some people that's Mozart and for others, it's Guns n' Roses.

And in my opinion, kid's music is really no different.

I've heard the argument that "kid's music" is all marketing, because really, kids will listen to almost anything and like it. In my own experience, I tend to agree. The appeal of these new artists that's appealing to both parents and kids is because for the most part, if you like it, there's a good chance your kids will too.

That's not rocket science. Just plain old parenting research.

A couple out in Seattle have created a new CD/DVD combo that my daughter and I have been listening to for the past few weeks. I admit to not be a fan of "no-story-line" DVDs (ala Baby Einstein) but as you might have guessed, both my kids were mesmerized. It's well done and while I probably wouldn't put it on for my daughter, it definitely keeps my 10-month-old occupied and appropriately entertained. Plus, I get a kick out of watching the kids lip sync to "Brass in Pocket."   

But the music, which is what I'm most concerned with, is brilliant for several reasons, and not just because the singer, Stephanie Schneiderman, has a fantastic voice. At first listen, you might think it a bit one dimensional, however, keep in mind that it's a soundtrack for the DVD, so the songs roll along based on that. But I love it most because the songs are all ones we parents know and love. So, it gets us singing along and enjoying ourselves and before long, our kids are singing "Three Little Birds" with us in the car.

To me, that's the musical experience I want for my kids. To love it. To bask in it. And to not be limited by some huge purple dinosaur that just sings three-chord songs in some weird key.

So, if you play the music you like (perhaps laying off the Fifty Cent and Korn until they're a bit older), you're doing a few positive things, like exposing them to variety. You're giving them choices so that they can create their own palate or tastes. And while I do suggest you step out of your own comfort zone and include world musics, classical music, and heck even some country *gulp,* the key is to enjoy it with them.

Music is a shared experience that can bring people and families together. And the great part is that you don't have to do anything extra to make that happen. Just sharing the music you love with your kids.

--

(The parents who own and operate That Baby DVD, one of whom I'll be speaking with live on Wednesday, are offering a 20% off discount on any purchase from their site with the code "PBN").

*There's a really fantastic blog blast going on today. You can win a really awesome gift for yourself or someone else, particularly helpful if your husband, like mine, seems to think you're a 67-year-old woman with no taste).

Heartbreaking.

I'm not sure there's anything as equally devastating to a three-year-old than the first loss of a balloon, in this case, her prized purple Whole Foods balloon to the sunny Atlanta skies.

Note to self: Just don't tell her that the birds are thankful for her lovely gift. It'll just piss her off more.

 

Irrelevant.

No one becomes a mother for the recognition. I can think of about 159,231 jobs that would get me recognition without the broken butt, jello stomach, and on many days, utter frustration.

There's no "thanks for being a great mom to your kids" cards and no extra vacation days for a job well done.

People acknowledge your cute kids or little terrors, depending on which candy store or airplane you're in. They admire your stroller or sling, not necessarily the great taste that you had for picking it. And all this only occurs if people actually feel safe enough to come up to you because you know, you're a mom.

On my low days, when I'm caught on the merry-go-round that is the routine of my existence and my daughter begs and pleads for her "great daddy," I wonder about my relevance in this world as a mother.

It's a broken record in my head: It will go on without me. Someone can feed my son a bottle. Someone can play dress-up with my daughter. Someone can clean my house (oh God won't they clean my house!).

And chances are, they might just do a better job than me. 

But in our blogs, we share these stories about our lives that to many might seem incredibly mundane, but to us, they are who we are and what we do. We commiserate at first poops in the tub, muffin tops, and hemmorhoids.

We reach out to each other when we need it most.

And we take what we think might be totally irrelevant about our lives, and make it relevant to someone else. Because while someone can feed my son a bottle, no one other than me can describe the feeling I have at 2am when I'm rubbing is round head and singing softly to him as he nurses back to sleep.

I may not be the best at doing it, but I'm the only one who can tell that story. And to him, I'm the best baby soother out there.

Sometimes that's what matters most.   

But suddenly, mothers are a hot commodity. It's not just the bazillion celebrities making the baby-mama thing incredibly hip, but it's the realization by marketers that moms hold the power of buying.

Surprise! We are relevant!

However, I wonder if those people (not all, just some) that are banging down our doors are the ones who pass us on the street and roll their eyes when our child throws a fit. Maybe they could be the ones who ask to be moved away from the mother and her children at the restaurant.

Our presence, to them, is irrelevant.

But damned if they think our buying power as a community isn't relevant. These stories of mothering that we share daily are suddenly totally relevant to them, or so they pretend.

"We love your stories of poop would you like to try some free diapers?" [please please please because when you talk about them people buy them because mothers are a fucking tight knit community and our clients need you and your snotty nosed kids].

It's clear to me now that in this endeavor of raising children that we share, we're going to change the world. On many days, it does seem like no one cares. When our pictures are taken down and our videos are banned it sends the message that perhaps our presence is insignificant.

That perhaps my presence is insignificant.

But no matter how many times our kids reject us during the day, or that we're relegated to wiping up piss off the floor, we must believe within ourselves that our work is valuable. Regardless of how many PR flacks email you about their free diapers or your blog friends reassure you that you're doing an amazing job, you alone must believe it's true.

It's our legacy. It's our kids' legacy.

Mothers are relevant.

We are relevant.

For Deb and all my fellow moms out there who are feeling irrelevant today.

I Knew I Should Have Shown My Sexy Ass in a G-String

*Edited: Apparently the videos I linked are now deemed inappropriate, however, can still be viewed if you login and give your birthdate. That is not the case with our video which was banned. I'd search for more videos, but I can't stand looking at any more asses (no pun intended).

So, apparently YouTube didn't like our breastfeeding montage. My only guess is that it did not have enough ass in it.

Boobs are very 2003. That means Breastfeeding Boobs have got to be circa 1922.

But asses? C'mon. Everyone loves an ass!

How about this sexy mama?

Mmmm Booty!

Love some ass crack!

The truth is, I'm not a prude. I'm not going to flag any of these as inappropriate. That's not the intention of the League of Maternal Justice Boob Rally. And I personally don't mind a bit of ass shaking.

But can we say hypocritical? (Can the folks at YouTube even spell that word?).

We, like many of you (we hope), are sick and tired of these companies ignoring the law, ignoring health officials, and ignoring us. If you've got Terms of Use that say no sexually explicit images, then police your own damn site. And write a caveat that says "images with breastfeeding babies when deemed appropriate are allowable."

How hard is that?

So, enough already, YouTube. Why not step out of the sexist, discriminatory box that Facebook and MySpace are co-habitating and say "breastfeeding is not obscene?"

And next time, we'll be sure to put more ass in the video for you.

If you'd like to create a Message to YouTube, and take up our cause, please visit the site. We need your help (asses not required).

**And just in case they are trying to catch us on a technicality (song copyright), we'll be resubmitting the video in the next few days with new music even though "inappropriate content and nature" doesn't sound like "copyright violation" to me. Sounds more like "we see boobies" to quote a smart man. I'll keep you posted.

It's a Mall World After All

I could write an entire post about the current state of preschool girls' clothing, with velour tracksuits featuring leopard fur collars designed by Carmela Soprano at The Children's Place and the weirdest series of patterns at Gymboree that I think were designed by "House of DeVil and Gabor."

Or I could tell you about the pushiest shoe saleswoman I have ever encountered ever at Dillards who followed me around her closet sized shoe department asking me if I wanted to try on random pairs of shoes like I was at Jimmy Choo or something.

Generally speaking, I pick my own shoes, thank you very much.

But really, I want to tell you about the woman getting her teeth whitened at a kiosk right in the middle of the mall.

My daughter and I made our way past the typical airbrush licensed plates and "bad-photo-on-various-household-items" stands. We handedly avoided the hand lotion and jewelry cleaning terrorists with their "Hey lady, your hands look really dry" or my favorite "Your jewelry is soooo dirty," which is sort of funny because I'm not wearing any jewelry.

We bypassed the iPod accessory guy because when he asked if I had an iPod I just said "No." See, there IS a reason why I don't have an iPod.

I thought we had made it through the kiosk gauntlet until we encountered a young-17-something dressed entirely in an outfit from 5-7-9 who was snapping a hot flat iron at people as they walked by. "Your hair is pretty frizzy, would you like me to straighten it for you?" Imagine how many takers she had on that line. I mean, I barely let my own hair stylist near me with a hot flat iron, let alone some junior in high school at a mall. Isn't that a liability or something?

But just when I thought I had seen it all, there she was. A woman, eyes closed, lying in a dental chair with a mouthguard in, blue light shining on her, and two "doctors" (as my daughter called them thanks to the fancy white coats) scurrying around getting other people set up. Teeth whitening? In the mall?

Eh. I can barely eat comfortably at the food court let alone have someone whiten my teeth in the middle of the freaking mall. Where exactly do you rinse and spit?

I still haven't figured out the appeal to all of this, but I can say that if I ever need a quick cheap makeover, I know exactly where to go. All they need to add is a SmaLand. Oh, and a really good waxer. I mean, what's white teeth when you've got hairy eyebrows and inner thighs?