A Practical Mother Always Dashes Her Children's Hopes and Dreams
The other night my daughter was enjoying her newest activity, which reminds me she is getting real close to that annoying little thing called puberty. She has discovered our XM stations on the satellite television and tunes in to the Radio Disney channel. Now, you'd think that this station would be harmless enough and would play songs like "When you Wish Upon A Star", or "Whistle While You Work", or "Supercallifragilistic", or the more modern "Be Our Guest," or some other candy coated Disney magical musical tune. But, no. Instead they play your normal candy coated Pop Rock. You know, Hannah Montana, Jessie McCartney, Ali & AJ, Kelly Clarkson and many others. I'm embarrassed to admit that I even can type those names, but hell I liked Andy Gibb and Shaun Cassidy at her age. I ,of all people, should understand.
Anyway, my daughter's new found taste is music is not the point of this post. For isn't it some unspoken rule that you have to rebel against the music your parents listen to? Fortunately for me my Dad had some taste in music-my appreciation of The Beatles and The Doors came from him. But I couldn't stand the Do Wop he also listened to-at the time. So maybe there is still hope my daugther will eventually come to love the Grateful Dead someday. Or she will be sitting on some therapist's couch 20 years from now complaining that she was subjected to the unnecessary torture of one too many Help on the Way>Slipknot>Franklin's Towers.
I digress again....Back to Radio Disney.
Like a good promotional and marketing machines, Disney Radio has a call in contest every night. My daughter had tried to copy down the toll free number that she was supposed to call so she could be the 16th caller and win a chance to get tickets to a Hannah Montana concert (by the way you thought you had enough of Billy Ray Cyrus & his achey breaky crap, get ready for his daughter starring as Hannah Montana, mild mannered unpopular school girl by day, and rocking hot pop star by night).
My daughter had become quite frustrated and came to me to see if I could call the Operator to get the number to Radio Disney. I told her that it was unlikely they could look up that listing. Then I made my fatal mistake of saying in a practical way, "Don't worry anyway, you would have probably just gotten a busy signal."
I was not prepared for the barrage of tears and insults that would follow in an angry attempt to devalue my motherly abilities, because I had obviously not realized how the order of the universe depended on participating in this call in contest. I was told, scratch that, I was screamed at: "Thanks Mom! I hope you're happy now that you have dashed my hopes and dreams!!!!!" (I need more exclamation points but I must not be frivoulous you never know when you may need more). This was accompanied by tears and the angry running up the stairs brilliantly punctuated by a door slam. Misty Water Color Memories....I remember those days well, when the only way to express my extreme frustration with my Mom was with a dramatic and well timed door slam.
Who knew that one day I would be known as the Hopes and Dreams Dashing Mom?
Anyway, my daughter's new found taste is music is not the point of this post. For isn't it some unspoken rule that you have to rebel against the music your parents listen to? Fortunately for me my Dad had some taste in music-my appreciation of The Beatles and The Doors came from him. But I couldn't stand the Do Wop he also listened to-at the time. So maybe there is still hope my daugther will eventually come to love the Grateful Dead someday. Or she will be sitting on some therapist's couch 20 years from now complaining that she was subjected to the unnecessary torture of one too many Help on the Way>Slipknot>Franklin's Towers.
I digress again....Back to Radio Disney.
Like a good promotional and marketing machines, Disney Radio has a call in contest every night. My daughter had tried to copy down the toll free number that she was supposed to call so she could be the 16th caller and win a chance to get tickets to a Hannah Montana concert (by the way you thought you had enough of Billy Ray Cyrus & his achey breaky crap, get ready for his daughter starring as Hannah Montana, mild mannered unpopular school girl by day, and rocking hot pop star by night).
My daughter had become quite frustrated and came to me to see if I could call the Operator to get the number to Radio Disney. I told her that it was unlikely they could look up that listing. Then I made my fatal mistake of saying in a practical way, "Don't worry anyway, you would have probably just gotten a busy signal."
I was not prepared for the barrage of tears and insults that would follow in an angry attempt to devalue my motherly abilities, because I had obviously not realized how the order of the universe depended on participating in this call in contest. I was told, scratch that, I was screamed at: "Thanks Mom! I hope you're happy now that you have dashed my hopes and dreams!!!!!" (I need more exclamation points but I must not be frivoulous you never know when you may need more). This was accompanied by tears and the angry running up the stairs brilliantly punctuated by a door slam. Misty Water Color Memories....I remember those days well, when the only way to express my extreme frustration with my Mom was with a dramatic and well timed door slam.
Who knew that one day I would be known as the Hopes and Dreams Dashing Mom?
posted by amyd | 10:03 AM
1 Comments:
I can see her saying, "...dashed my hopes and dreams." She's a girl well beyond her years.
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