spinthemoon (spinthemoon) wrote,
spinthemoon
spinthemoon

Maybe I'm not such a bad Mommy after all

OK, confession time. When Middle Daughter was a baby, she would not sleep unless I sang to her. Often, for hours on end. No, no...that's not the confession. If it were, it would be a really boring confession.

Here's the confession part - I did not choose songs that would maximize her neural development. I did not choose songs that would raise her IQ, stimulate her mathematical abilities, or foster perfect pitch.

Yes, I know - what was I thinking? But wait...it gets worse. It's not even so much what songs I didn't sing as what songs I did. Becuase what I did sing was

.

.

.

do I dare confess, even now?

.

.

.

John Denver.

Yes, John Denver. I lulled my precious baby to sleep with Annie's Song, Sunshine on My Shoulders, Take Me Home Country Roads, Poems, Prayers, and Promises, and - God help me - Rocky Mountain High.

I've worried through the years that I have doomed my child to a life of being the only member of her generation to sing along in the elevator when Calypso comes across the Muzak. That she'll be sitting in her room plucking out Thank God I'm a Country Boy on guitar while all her friends are downloading the latest rock tunes.

But I've decided - no more guilt. I love John Denver, doggone it, and I'm not going to be ashamed of it any longer. Laugh all you want, but the man was a muciscal genius and I will hide my unyeilding admiration no longer.

Just don't tell anyone, 'k?

Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 10 comments