Crank It Up

It is a known fact that no matter how loud I crank the Clash, as long as I am driving a minivan I am not cool. Even if I know all of the words to the song. Even if I am singing it at the top of my lungs. But this does not stop me. To the dismay of my children, if the right song comes on, I will crank it up. In the olden days, before cell phones, I'm sure people would see me and know that I was singing at the top of my lungs, even if the windows of the car were rolled up. But these days I just pretend I'm on the phone. Crazy, right?

I am not above riding around the block a couple of times to hear the end of a song, even if it will make me late for dinner. This is especially true when it's "Twofer Tuesday" on the classic rock station. I like the old songs because they are full of memories. You will not see me at a Bruce Springsteen concert today because I can guarantee that he will play music written after 1985. This may sound crazy to you, but it makes perfect sense to me. Those new songs? They don't hold me. They have no memories attached.

This doesn't mean that I never listen to newer music. Over the years I've discovered that I like lots of different types of songs. About thirteen years ago, the husband went to visit his family on the other side of the world for about three weeks. I had to take care of the baby girl child and the baby boy child by myself. This was hard because the baby boy child, who was about four months old at the time, didn't like to be by himself. EVER. He always wanted to be held. But one night, I managed to get him to sleep in his crib. For hours. Bliss. I had rented Pieces of April and got to watch the entire thing, uninterrupted. And when it was over, I had fallen in love with Stephin Merritt's music. The Magnetic Fields. The Sixes. When I hear that music, I think of the time when my children were babies.

We lived in an apartment building when the kids were first born, and we had a neighbor with two teenage daughters. I remember that one day she told me how she still loved to kiss her daughters' toes. At the time, I thought that was really strange, but now I understand. It goes so fast. They won't let you kiss their toes forever, you know. The other day when I was at the bus station, I saw a mother with her little boy on her lap. He was fast asleep, sprawled across her body with his head on her shoulder. He must have been about five. I could remember how that felt. The weight of that little body, the rhythm of his breathing. My kids are too big to sleep like that now, although I think the girl child tried to recently. It didn't really work out. After all, she is bigger than me.

I was shopping for a baby gift last weekend, and I found myself getting a little weepy in the infant section. I looked at all of the sippy cups and tiny socks, and realized that this part of my life was over. My kids are big now. They are stinky in a way that is not the same as baby stinky. Sure, one day I might have some grand kids, but it will be different. Maybe it will be better, who knows? After all, you can play with grand kids and then give them back to their parents. But there's something to be said for those other times. Those times you think you'd like to forget about. Like when it's the middle of the night and the girl child is crying and you pace the floor with her and when you wake up in the morning, you're sitting upright on the couch with a sweaty baby on your chest, and baby boogers are caked in your hair. And you don't care. Honestly, there's nothing quite like it.

So I was wondering why I got so emotional in the baby section the other day. After all, it's not like I haven't bought baby gifts in the last year or two. But perhaps, things have changed in my life. Perhaps that is what is different. These days, I officially have two teenagers. The boy child doesn't mind sleeping in his room anymore. In fact, he spends a lot of his time in there with the door closed, doing his homework at his desk and chatting with his friends on Skype. I miss him. He used to sit in the living room to do his homework. Sometimes, I call him into the living room just so he can hang out with me. Even if we're doing different things, like reading and watching TV. Just so we can be in the same room. The girl child still does her homework in the dining room, but now she has a boyfriend. We used to spend time together on Saturday, but now I drop her off at her in-laws, and she spends the day with her boyfriend. If I have custody of them, sometimes we go out together, but now it is the three of us, not just us girls. These are good times. I am lucky to have the girl child and her boyfriend. And I now have my blissful time alone, but I will have plenty of that in only a few years. I don't really need to have that time alone now. I am ambivalent.

The girl child tells me that some of her friends think I'm cool because I enjoy listening to the music they like. When we ride in the car, the girl child brings her ipod and we connect it to the cassette deck. Yes, I still have a cassette deck in my car. Stop laughing at me. Anyway, she plugs it in and we sing along to the Fray and Panic at the Disco. I like being a cool mom. They just better not ride with me on a Tuesday.