I don't know what happened to me this morning. It was as if I was possessed by the Renee of Four Years Ago. The Renee Who Loves Good Music, and who wasn't scared to unearth her old albums for fear they might not be "kid-friendly". The Renee who wasn't going to take crap from her four-year-old because the music she was playing didn't sound like music boxes or Laurie Berkner's incessant yodelings.
I went ahead and popped in a Radiohead CD, and I went ahead and kept it on, even after L- insisted she didn't like it, and she wasn't going to like it, so there.
And, bordering on jackassery, I just ignored her whining and turned up the volume. Loud Radiohead. Hah.
And L- turned up the volume of her whining. Loud L-. Hah.
I'm a peacemonger, by nature, so I made an effort to explain that Radiohead is quite possibly the most well-deserved recipients of critical acclaim in any lifetime, and that the lyrics alone exceed the dais of genius, so she would do well to just take a minute to listen, because she really had no idea what wonders could unfold in the mind of a soul open to the unmatched musicality and broad grasp of the human psyche layered within the lyrical content of a Radiohead album. Plus, they're really, freakin' cool.
She'd have none of it. "NO!! Aladdin!! I want to hear Aladdin!!"
H- screamed right along with her. Babies don't like lyrical virtuosity. Who knew?
I don't know if it was the recent disagreements with my mom, or maybe my feelings of ineptness at home, or maybe my rage against fate and That Which I Cannot Control, but I didn't feel like backing down on this one. Cry on, little ones. Maybe I'll repeat track 7, just for kicks.
I listened to that whole album. Every so often, L- would ask if it was over yet, and after a while I chose to bargain with her, promising an hour of SpongeBob for ten more minutes of Mommy Music. It worked. I had won. I got Mommy Music Time. And it felt spectacular.
So I'm doing it again tomorrow. When I wake up early to connect with the Renee Who Likes To Write, I'm going to reconnect with the Renee Who Loves Good Music, while I'm at it.
Good luck, Laurie Berkner. You're in my house now.