“Go Go Jason Waderful..” What? “That’s what I thought the lyrics were when I was a kid” she says to me nonchalantly. Of course, I burst out laughing and so does she. We are playing cribbage and listening to (both) our favorite radio station, 93.7 Mike FM: “We play everything”. And they do… everything from the 60’s through today, everything from Rock to Pop to Soul to Country. TLC’s Waterfalls is playing on the radio at this time.
My daughter and I spend Sunday evenings together. Not every Sunday evening, but most. We cook together and have dinner or we may play a game or watch a movie; sometimes we just sit and ‘catch up’. It’s our time together and often we have to make the time for one another as we both lead very busy lives. I have to say, I think it’s wonderful, I am amazed that at 22, my daughter still actually wants to spend time with me.
My daughter was born in 1988. She missed disco, she missed ‘Friday Night Video’s and the birth of MTV; She has no idea what a rotary telephone is, she never had to get up off the sofa to change the channel on the television; She has no idea what “Schoolhouse Rock” is, she doesn’t understand at all the impact of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and she certainly never played a record (yes, those big, shiny, round vinyl things) or a cassette tape in her life. Heck, her very first ‘grown up’ CD was Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn”. She does however, know the lyrics to Buddy Holly’s “Peggy Sue”, Billy Joel’s “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant", Steve Miller’s “The Joker” and Don McLean’s “American Pie” (and what the song is about I might add.)
We continue playing and she’s skunking me as usual when she asks me, between counting her enormous crib and singing the lyrics to Jim Croce’s “Time In A Bottle”, “Mum, how do I know this song?” (Insert big smirk on my face here.) She tells me about how when she is with her friends in her car and they are channel surfing the radio, her friends are always amazed at how many songs she wants to stop at and that she actually knows the lyrics, singing along. She might not know the artist, but she knows the lyrics. This leads to a conversation and a reminiscing session about summer camping.
When the kids were little (grade, middle and high school) my best friend, her children, myself, my daughter and her best friend (my ‘other daughter’: “Pumpkin II” – “I want to be a Pumpkin too!”, “Okay, you’re a Pumpkin..II”) spent many weekends camping all over New England but mostly Vermont and Maine. After long days filled with swimming, tubing, hiking, exploring and capturing all sorts of small creatures that had to be kept as “pets” for the weekend before being released on Sundays; After evenings filled with campfires, ghost stories, games, hot dogs on sticks and s’mores; the children were put to bed snug in their sleeping bags, dogs in the tents with them so that the Mommies could now have some ‘down time’. (Of course, the boys tent and the girls tents were next to each other and you could always see the flashlights and hear window zippers going down, the whispers and muffled laughter between the two long after they were supposed to be sleeping – but that’s okay, it’s how it’s supposed to be)
Us Mommies, wearier still from listening to “Ba wit a ba, da bangy bang diggy diggy” (That’s Kid Rock in case you didn’t know oh, and speaking of Kid Rock, don’t forget “Up jumped the Boogie”, another set of lyrics that were not heard correctly and well gosh, the word “Boogie” is absolutely hysterical if you’re ten) got our down time at night. Songs such as “Last Resort” (Papa Roach), “Don’t Turn Around” (Ace of Base) and God help us all, “Getting’ Jiggy Wit It” (Will Smith) lingering in our brains as we sat down at the newly stoked fire to enjoy some wine, Gin-Rummy and our music.
Our CD’s included: Linda Ronstadt’s Greatest Hits, Volume II , Marvin Gaye, Barry White, Simon & Garfunkle, Elton John, Steve Miller, Pink Floyd, Queen - all their Greatest Hits Albums; Bruce Springsteen, Born in the USA; Prince, Purple Rain; Billy Joel, The Stranger; Robert Plant, Principle of Moments; as well as Neil Diamond (Sweet Caroline!) and James Taylor’s Greatest Hits; The Doors, The Cranberries, The Black Crowes, The Mama's and The Papa's. What? “Quiet Time” does start at 9pm at most Campgrounds.
As the years went by and the children got older, the rules changed a little bit. They were allowed to stay up later but at a certain time, they had to play their own games so that we could play ours, and the CD player (at that time there was still no such thing as an IPOD and personal CD Players with headphones were too expensive - we were both ‘Single Mom’s’) was to be turned over to us. Gone was Tool, Korn, Alice in Chains, Nirvana and God help us again, Big Butts (Sir Mix A Lot). Their CD books were closed and ours were unzipped and opened. Say hello to Neil Diamond, Neil Young and yes, Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits. *Gulp*, we were and are Fanilow’s (I can admit that now, sorta, *gulp* - Did I just say that out loud? ) Music has always swept me away, something I could always live inside and has lived inside me. Don’t forget that “Quiet Time” begins at all campgrounds at 9pm too…
The funny thing is, just as my daughter now loves a plethora of music from all different generations and genres, I too love the music that was ‘hers’ and my IPOD now has everything on it from Bush, Green Day and Rage Against The Machine to Jimmy Buffet, Johnny Cash and Tim McGraw; Everything from Nirvana, Bare Naked Ladies, and Everclear to Cat Stevens, The Temptations and The Rolling Stones. And so does hers. Amazing isn’t it?
So when she was given the chance to adopt a kitten named Barry, it’s no wonder she expanded Barry to Barry Manilow. So you see, it is my fault that Barry Manilow is a big, fat orange cat.
My daughter and I spend Sunday evenings together. Not every Sunday evening, but most. We cook together and have dinner or we may play a game or watch a movie; sometimes we just sit and ‘catch up’. It’s our time together and often we have to make the time for one another as we both lead very busy lives. I have to say, I think it’s wonderful, I am amazed that at 22, my daughter still actually wants to spend time with me.
My daughter was born in 1988. She missed disco, she missed ‘Friday Night Video’s and the birth of MTV; She has no idea what a rotary telephone is, she never had to get up off the sofa to change the channel on the television; She has no idea what “Schoolhouse Rock” is, she doesn’t understand at all the impact of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and she certainly never played a record (yes, those big, shiny, round vinyl things) or a cassette tape in her life. Heck, her very first ‘grown up’ CD was Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn”. She does however, know the lyrics to Buddy Holly’s “Peggy Sue”, Billy Joel’s “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant", Steve Miller’s “The Joker” and Don McLean’s “American Pie” (and what the song is about I might add.)
We continue playing and she’s skunking me as usual when she asks me, between counting her enormous crib and singing the lyrics to Jim Croce’s “Time In A Bottle”, “Mum, how do I know this song?” (Insert big smirk on my face here.) She tells me about how when she is with her friends in her car and they are channel surfing the radio, her friends are always amazed at how many songs she wants to stop at and that she actually knows the lyrics, singing along. She might not know the artist, but she knows the lyrics. This leads to a conversation and a reminiscing session about summer camping.
When the kids were little (grade, middle and high school) my best friend, her children, myself, my daughter and her best friend (my ‘other daughter’: “Pumpkin II” – “I want to be a Pumpkin too!”, “Okay, you’re a Pumpkin..II”) spent many weekends camping all over New England but mostly Vermont and Maine. After long days filled with swimming, tubing, hiking, exploring and capturing all sorts of small creatures that had to be kept as “pets” for the weekend before being released on Sundays; After evenings filled with campfires, ghost stories, games, hot dogs on sticks and s’mores; the children were put to bed snug in their sleeping bags, dogs in the tents with them so that the Mommies could now have some ‘down time’. (Of course, the boys tent and the girls tents were next to each other and you could always see the flashlights and hear window zippers going down, the whispers and muffled laughter between the two long after they were supposed to be sleeping – but that’s okay, it’s how it’s supposed to be)
Us Mommies, wearier still from listening to “Ba wit a ba, da bangy bang diggy diggy” (That’s Kid Rock in case you didn’t know oh, and speaking of Kid Rock, don’t forget “Up jumped the Boogie”, another set of lyrics that were not heard correctly and well gosh, the word “Boogie” is absolutely hysterical if you’re ten) got our down time at night. Songs such as “Last Resort” (Papa Roach), “Don’t Turn Around” (Ace of Base) and God help us all, “Getting’ Jiggy Wit It” (Will Smith) lingering in our brains as we sat down at the newly stoked fire to enjoy some wine, Gin-Rummy and our music.
Our CD’s included: Linda Ronstadt’s Greatest Hits, Volume II , Marvin Gaye, Barry White, Simon & Garfunkle, Elton John, Steve Miller, Pink Floyd, Queen - all their Greatest Hits Albums; Bruce Springsteen, Born in the USA; Prince, Purple Rain; Billy Joel, The Stranger; Robert Plant, Principle of Moments; as well as Neil Diamond (Sweet Caroline!) and James Taylor’s Greatest Hits; The Doors, The Cranberries, The Black Crowes, The Mama's and The Papa's. What? “Quiet Time” does start at 9pm at most Campgrounds.
As the years went by and the children got older, the rules changed a little bit. They were allowed to stay up later but at a certain time, they had to play their own games so that we could play ours, and the CD player (at that time there was still no such thing as an IPOD and personal CD Players with headphones were too expensive - we were both ‘Single Mom’s’) was to be turned over to us. Gone was Tool, Korn, Alice in Chains, Nirvana and God help us again, Big Butts (Sir Mix A Lot). Their CD books were closed and ours were unzipped and opened. Say hello to Neil Diamond, Neil Young and yes, Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits. *Gulp*, we were and are Fanilow’s (I can admit that now, sorta, *gulp* - Did I just say that out loud? ) Music has always swept me away, something I could always live inside and has lived inside me. Don’t forget that “Quiet Time” begins at all campgrounds at 9pm too…
The funny thing is, just as my daughter now loves a plethora of music from all different generations and genres, I too love the music that was ‘hers’ and my IPOD now has everything on it from Bush, Green Day and Rage Against The Machine to Jimmy Buffet, Johnny Cash and Tim McGraw; Everything from Nirvana, Bare Naked Ladies, and Everclear to Cat Stevens, The Temptations and The Rolling Stones. And so does hers. Amazing isn’t it?
So when she was given the chance to adopt a kitten named Barry, it’s no wonder she expanded Barry to Barry Manilow. So you see, it is my fault that Barry Manilow is a big, fat orange cat.
No comments:
Post a Comment