The Year in Review

Usually, this last post of the year, I showcase my favorite photos from the last twelve months. But this year I've decided to up my game a bit.





For another little trip down memory lane, here are my most popular blog posts, and my favorite blog posts, month by month:

January:
Most Popular/My Favorite: Becoming Invisible
I can't see her face. I cannot assemble these pieces. My mother is an invisible force of nature, a supernatural entity made of love and discipline and constant presence.


February:
Most Popular: Let's Talk About Beds, Baby
I'm pretty optimistic that by the anniversary of getting our new mattress, it will have saved us as much in medical costs (and attached childcare costs) as the thing cost in the first place.

My Favorite: Presumption of Innocence
Part of me was relieved. As I exited the courtroom, I finally allowed myself to believe he was guilty. An instant, overwhelming surety, now that I didn't have the obligation to give him the benefit of the doubt. At the same time I felt a wave of guilt, that I could damn him so easily before his trial. And then a wave of fury.


March:
Most Popular/My Favorite: Esprit D'Escalier
I wish instead I'd talked to his friends, and asked them if they're okay with this. If they're okay with going around with this super rape-y guy who can't tell the difference between disembodied breasts and a human being, and ask why they're willing to be seen in public with such a pathetic excuse of a human being.


April:
Most Popular: All My Little Words
I didn't look like a willowy, blond haired, tan skinned Gwen Stefani clone. I didn't look like the girls in the magazines, or on TV. And while part of me understood all the while that it didn't make me ugly, it did make me... not pretty.

My Favorite: Oblivious
I screamed. Of course I screamed. And RH, her hair full of glass fragments, with glimmering pieces of broken glass shimmering all over her clothes, froze.


May:
Most Popular: The Binder
That legal pad of Grandma's became my confidante. M never read the binder- so I was more honest with it than I was with him. If I thought he was depressed, or struggling, or weakening, it went into the binder. And then I could bring it up casually with the doctor, M never being the wiser for my worries.

My Favorite: More Than A Stage
There is nothing like being part of a cast. You're a family, even if only temporarily. You care about each other, you care about each other's families, you care about each other's success and happiness. You want everyone to do their best, not just on stage, but everywhere. And you want to help. Sharing a stage in a cast is different from sharing the stage in an open mic. Open mics are every man for himself, self promotion and flights of fancy. A cast though- a cast is more. It's a commitment.


June:
Most Popular: Sex Positive Parenting, or, We Don't Touch Our Vulvas At The Table
The truth is that human beings, almost universally, like sex. It feels good. And it's supposed to feel good. If it didn't, the human race would die out. The truth is that sex isn't special and magical just because it's sex. The truth is that you can have spectacular sex with strangers who's names you don't even know. The truth is that just because you can, that doesn't necessarily mean you should.

My Favorite: Six Down, Twenty to Go
When I think of my love for M, it still comes with a hint of fear that one day he'll realize I'm not good enough for him, that I'm lazy and fat and unshowered and he deserves so much more than me- and rather than feeling depressed by such thoughts I feel inspired to impress him, to show him how competent I can be, how beautiful I can be, how brilliant I can be, until I surprise myself by becoming better than I ever knew I could.


July:
Most Popular: The Truth About Sex After Kids
You can explore your fetishes and kinks and preferences, even the ones that previously embarrassed you, because nothing embarrasses you anymore. Not when you've both sat staring at each other at the crack of dawn, covered in the same infant's vomit and feces. Not when you've had more conversations than you care to count about the kids' diarrhea and whether or not the shits you're both experiencing indicate a virus, something psychosomatic, or yet another side effect of prolonged fatigue.

My Favorite: Just Fine
Now, for the last several scans, things had appeared identical. No change from scan to scan. But, as of last month, there is something. A tiny, minuscule shift that when viewed over years instead of months, shows those vague areas that used to be solid white in the MRIs becoming a little bit cloudier again.


August:
Most Popular/My Favorite: My Body, My Choices- Thoughts on the Chicago Slutwalk
I will not apologize for teaching my daughters that they control their bodies, and their fates. But I will apologize for this world, because I am a part of it. And until I can be confident that I have more than done my part to make it safe for them to exist here, as girls and then women, the guilt that has plagued me most of my life will continue.


September:
Most Popular: One More Cup Of Coffee
Every morning last year, as we drove to preschool, I'd surf through the local pop stations, looking for what the kids and I called "bouncy songs." These were songs the kids could happily bounce in their seats to, through the whole six minute drive.

My Favorite: #WhyIStayed, How the Vanity Fair #LiftTOUR is Helping, And How You Can Too
He said something about me shutting up, because he'd paid for dinner. And I said something back. Something probably loaded with snark and that may or may not have implied that there was no way in Hell I was having sex with him that night, if ever. Even if I had invited him over to my place for a cup of tea. And then he grabbed my hair and yanked me halfway across the room.


October:
Most Popular/My Favorite: The Routines of Bravery
"Is that washi tape?" I asked.
"Yes!" her mother said. She beamed at me. "We're going to change it, though. She says it's too bright for fall."
The girl rolled her eyes, and I saw the human inside her, the constantly embarrassed teenaged girl. I smiled at the mother.
"Totally. Are you thinking about something more Halloween-y? Skulls and crossbones or something?"
I hoped maybe the girl would smirk. I thought skulls were delightfully subversive. Her mother gave me a look that broke my heart. It wasn't admonition, or humor, or solidarity. It was gratitude.


November:
Most Popular: Just Look
If I were given no indication but the feel of their hand in mine, I would know who's hand I was holding.

My Favorite: The Uncleanable House
I may in fact have put my children down for a nap and rolled around the floor, hardly able to believe it was possible to do such a thing without accumulating an even patina of crumbs.


December:
Most Popular/My Favorite: Father Dies, Son Dies, Grandson Dies
I often forget about other people. I often forget that M and I aren't our own little universe. I forget that there are other people who care about us. It's easier to forget, a lot of the time. It's easier to put little limits around your grief and your hope and pretend that nobody outside feels any of it. But they do.


Happy reading, lovely readers!

And a Happy New Year!

Amazons of Rock

Last year I was fortunate enough to guest post on Raised on the Radio. Here, now, is my Amazons of Rock mix tape.

I grew up on Rock. My parents had hundreds of records, and their own individual, rock n' roll passions. My mom's side of the collection had show tunes and novelty records, but also Black Sabbath. My father's collection encompassed the Beach Boys, Led Zeppelin, and of course the Beatles. I breathed eight bar blues and the discordant tearing of wailing- not singing- vocal cords behind a microphone.

When I turned twelve, I had a lot of guy friends. And we all loved rock music. But the music we listened to was male dominated. Foo Fighters, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Metallica...

And so my friends, mostly guys, told me girls can't rock. That rock is the domain of meaty, muscly, long haired men in plaid shirts or no shirts, headbanging or wailing and whining on the front of the stage. And girls... well... there was always Lilith Fair.

So I had to find a way to shut up those stupid friends of mine. I sat down and made them a mix tape. Because girls? They fucking rock.


I had to start with Janis Joplin. Because you always start with Janis Joplin. If you're going to make the argument that women can rock, there will be a token example. And the token example will always be Janis. Get it out of the way. Don't fight it. She rocked harder than anyone in the history of the earth. Listen to her wail, and tell me I'm wrong. This is the legacy of women in rock. We begin here, and then we can move on to the latter years of alternative.



The nineties were the heyday of alternative music. Our adolescent years were a series of albums where every single song could have been described as our personal anthems for a solid month. "Jagged Little Pill" was one of those CDs. Every song. From the first, to the hidden track she performed a capella at the MTV Video awards. If there was one woman current on the radio, current in pop culture, current in music who indisputably rocked... it was Alanis.



The years was 1996. And every teenage girl in America had the impulse to wallpaper her walls with these lyrics. Because we all had a feeling that it was going to be us. Not just a pretended adulthood and inevitable failure, but anger. Anger that we weren't allowed to express as girls. Anger that we didn't know how to put voice to in the image of Kurt Cobain. Girl rage.



Every corner of rock had women hiding in it. From the political to the insipid, women were everywhere. And even if it felt like you couldn't see them, they made up for it in haunting, vivid music. They were masters of imagery. Skunk Anansie never got too successful this side of the pond, but that just gave their fans more cred. We were the feminist rock underground.



Of course, "feminism" was almost a dirty word. It meant manufactured "girl power" and middle aged folk singers who didn't shave their armpits. It was hard to listen to the Shawn Colvins and Loreena McKennits and claim that they rocked. And that was where Ani came in, like a rock and roll fusion dreamscape. There was no question. Ani? Rocked.



This is where the boys would tell me that it's all well and good that those women can rock, and sure, they could. But they have no general appeal. No real commercial appeal. I mean, who listens to Euro-prog-rock and Ani Difranco? Where will you hear that but college radio? So I say, BAM- No Doubt. Am I making myself clear?



Oh- and what was that you were saying about Lilith Fair not being rock music? Because you would be wrong. Dead. fucking. wrong.



No matter how much fun the fans of rock made of the Lilith Fair women, no matter how often they got lumped into entirely separate genres of music, isolated from the general sphere of "pop rock," or "rock," or even "alternative," there could be no doubt. They wailed. They shredded. They rocked.



The fact is that the alternative music scene was full of women. Kick ass, take no prisoners women of rock and roll. The folk revolution might have been alive and well. Jewel might have been singing story songs about mentally disabled teenagers, Sarah McLachlan might have had love songs in every RomCom soundtrack for three summers running. The Spice Girls might have been bouncing around in their ultra-produced pop bubble. But women were tearing it up on the rock scene.



And for all of those naysayers who reluctantly agreed, "Okay, there are some women who rock now. And there was Janis, of course. But this is a new thing. There haven't been a lot of women in rock. It's a male genre. It's guys and testosterone and they do it because chicks love it." To that I said, "Yeah, chicks DO love it. And that's why they've been making spectacular rock since the beginning."

And a bonus track- because there should always be a bonus track...



There have been women in Rock n' Roll since before the Beatles, brother. And they've been killing it since your granddaddy's sock hops. Suck it up, little man, and make way for the queens.

All About The Bass

Two and a half big girls

My two and a half year cracks me up.

She talks. Constantly. About absolutely everything. She hams it up like it's her job. She likes pretending to be scared of things, although I'm pretty sure she doesn't understand the concept of fear. She loves telling jokes, but her jokes are about as sensical as an episode of Spongebob. They're cobbled together from other "jokes" she's heard her sisters tell, but he delivery is spot on. My favorite?

"Knock knock!"
"Who's there?"
"Who!"
"Who who?"
"Don't cry, it's just a joke!"

When her sisters are at school, she vaccilates between asking over and over again when we can go get them, "Is it time to pick up my sisters?" to DOMINATING television viewing. (Pocoyo is her favorite.)

But as brilliant and verbal as she is, I admit I am not even close to keeping up with my own expectations for her when it comes to one critical area.

Potty training RH has been a COMPLETELY different experience than potty training my twins.

This is my fault. Entirely my fault. The fact is that my house is ten times messier than it ever was when I had only two kids to keep up with, so I'm nervous about having RH run around pants-free. That's what worked for the twins, but...

So we've been trying something different. Mainly, not potty training.

We talk about the potty a lot. And our conversations tend to go like this:

"RH? Do you want to sit on the potty?"
"I don't want to."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm drawing."
"Well let's stop drawing and sit on the potty."
"No thanks, I want to watch minions."
"How about we watch minions after using the potty?"
"Nope! Bye!"

It's frustrating, because all of us, RH included, know she CAN if she wants to.

She just doesn't want to, and I'm too frazzled to push the issue.

But it does mean that the constant awareness of potty processes is yielding some interesting and entertaining results.

My personal favorite?

RH has started announcing that she's soiled herself in song. Rather than say, "I pooed!" she's decided on the perfect soundtrack for dropping a load in her diaper.




Yup.

All about it.



----
And for those of you keeping track- you'll note RH is representing four giant parenting "nevers" I ascribed to pre-kids. She is wearing pink. She is wearing pictures of licensed Disney characters. She's holding a plastic piece of crap toy that is ALSO a licensed Disney character. And she's singing a pop song.

If I'd seen this six years ago, I might have slapped myself.

Sunday Blogaround - 7.13.14

I've been meaning to revive the Blogaround for a while now, but this week I'd like to do something a little different.

This is a list of of the Listen To Your Mother videos of women I've known forever online, or who I've read since before we had any idea what we're doing, or whose careers I've followed forever.

In short, these writers and my icons, my role models, and my friends.

Enjoy.

Of course, the place to start is with the Listen To Your Mother Chicago show. The whole thing. The WHOLE thing.  They're all spectacular.





This is Jessica of Four Plus An Angel, which is one of the first blogs I started following as a mother of multiples. She's just reached her kickstarter goal for her new children's book, Soon. You can still donate and get yourself a copy for another three days.





Last year, when my letter, "Dear Less Than Perfect Mom," went sort of viral... I got this weird note from a stranger saying that somebody had stolen it, and she was going to take care of it for me. Julie ushered me into the world of blogging in a way I'd never seen it before- as truly a community not of back-stabbing content thieves, but of writers supporting each other and looking out for each other. I've been thrilled to watch Julie's NFP, Sober Mommies, grow, and when this piece first appeared on her blog, Next Life NO Kids, I loved it and cried and loved it some more. Putting a voice to all her words has been remarkable.





This is Kristi of Finding Ninee. I've been reading her blog for ages, thinking that THIS is where the quality writing of the blogosphere was. When I met her at BlogU, I made an ass of myself by mispronouncing its name (It's NINE-ee, not nee-nee). Her calm and humor always impress me. Both online, and in person. And now, on film as well.





This is Ashley of Clothesline Confessional, who I met and fell in love with at BlogHer last year. In the past year she went from starting a personal blog to reading aloud her letter to the mother of mass shooters on the news, and now to the stage. I am so proud of her, and so happy to hear her voice again.





This is Kerry, one of the geniuses of In The Powder Room. I've been laughing my ass off at her expense for years, and having a voice to put to all the hilarious stories she's shared in the past brings them all to life all over again.





Another friend from BlogHer 13 is Cheryl, who runs Busy Since Birth. I can't tell you how grateful I am that I got half lost looking for the bus, because it led me to spending an afternoon in her inimitable company. I was thrilled when she became a LTYM producer, but I had no idea how utterly spectacular her piece would be.





I also met Erin and Ellen of The Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms at BlogHer last year as well, but I'd been following them online for a while. Sometimes, when you watch people interact as a duo on the internet, you feel like it's got to be some sort of act. But it's not. The love of these two women for each other is completely heartwarming.





This is Janel, of 649.133, which I've featured on the Blogaround more times than I can count. I love this woman. She's amazing.





This is Rebekah. Once upon a time, I was an AmeriCorps VISTA, and she was the VISTA before me who trained me in. She taught me the ropes of managing the recycling truck, and talked about her undying love for the Dave Matthews Band. When she drove down to Chicago to see our show, she joked that she would run into people from her AmeriCorps days. And as it turned out, she was right. It was wonderful seeing her again, and it's wonderful to feel like she's back in my life.





Another writer I followed vaguely on Momaical before meeting her at BlogHer, and religiously after, Tracy is utterly hilarious. And insightful. And she's just plain great.





This is Carissa, who I also met at BlogHer. I know, there's a theme here. She's one of the sweetest, most considerate people I've ever met. When I saw he again at BlogU, she hugged me and asked all about my family. As though we'd spent all of high school together rather than a weekend a year ago. She's charming and wonderful, and you should listen to her, and read everything she's ever written.





Amanda, of Questionable Choices in Parenting, is in a group of bloggers I call my tribe, and she's hilarious and warm, always. Watching her read this story was amazing, because it might have been the first time I'd seen a writer I knew speak, and thought, "Yup. That is EXACTLY what she sounds like in my head."





Kelley's Break Room was one of my first favorite places to connect with other bloggers. She hosted a humor linkup, and I linked up. She's always so funny, and I was thrilled when I got to meet her, briefly, at both BlogHer and BlogU. I love getting a chance to hear her voice again.





Zakary was one of the speakers at the Voices Of The Year last year. She read a piece about nearly killing herself with poisonous plants, and immediately became my anti-Pinterest hero. I love getting a chance to listen to her read again.





I met Jessica of Welcome to the Bundle at the BlogU open mic a month ago, where she read this piece. And it was hilarious. It's still hilarious, and I still love watching her read it.





This is Debi, who I've never met. Who's writing I'd never read, until now. She reached out to one of my cast members, Meggan, and shared each others' stories. It is a remarkable thing to see a friendship grow between these two women, one finally actualizing as her true gender as an adult, one supporting her young child in the same struggle. There need to be more of these stories out there, showing that gender and identity aren't the black and white issues some claim they are.





Ann of course, Ann Imig. The woman behind all of Listen To Your Mother.

Baring Our Souls All Over Again

Photo credits to Balee Images

I bet all of you were wondering how in the hell I kept myself from harassing each and every one of you all day on Wednesday to keep myself distracted from our hospital drama.

Well, wonder no more.

I can't tell you how incredibly, unfathomably grateful I am that the same morning I headed off to the hospital to spend six hours in tortuous emotional limbo, Listen To Your Mother released this season's videos.

Not only was it incredibly gratifying to see how calm and collected I mostly looked, or even how flattering the dress I AGONIZED over looked, but it was a tremendous comfort to spend the morning reliving that day.

The women in my Listen To Your Mother cast are remarkable and wonderful. It's been a joy staying connected with them, sharing their happiness and celebrating their triumphs. As I said then, a cast is a family. And watching the women I loved baring their souls all over again... it was a little like a family reunion.

But it wasn't just our cast's videos that went live on Wednesday. And it's not just the Listen To Your Mother Chicago performers I've come to know and love. My blogging friends in Boston, New York, Austin, Richmond- in dozens of cities across the country- were there to distract me and cheer me as well.

Some of them I watched over and over again as I sat around in hospital waiting rooms. And as crazy as it might sound, I spent my anxious day laughing and grinning at strangers, barely restraining myself from tugging my laptop over, pulling out my headphones, and saying, "You really have to watch this with me! It's WONDERFUL!"

And now you too can enjoy the experience of having me at a dinner party, droning endlessly about childhood stories you have little to no interest in hearing. Looking fabulous and put together in a way I never do in real life.



And you can also watch the remarkable videos from my castmates, and my friends, and the incredible Listen To Your Mother community.

Here are a few of my very favorites, so far.

All my love, lovely readers. And enjoy.

Three at Two

The cheerfullest birthday girl on the block

Today, my littlest little turns two years old.

I could tell you how time has flown, how much she's grown, but I don't want to focus for one second on the past. Right now, it's all about now.

On Saturday, we had her birthday party. It was planned and essentially thrown by DD and SI. One day, about two months ago, we had this conversation:

Me: "I should figure out what kind of party to throw RH!"
DD: "I know! It should be a Care Bears party!"
Me: "You guys had a Care Bears party. This is RH's party. It should have to do with what she likes. What does RH like?"
SI: "Green!"
Me: "Yup. What else?"
SI: "Green! It should be a green party!"
Me: "That's it? Green? How do you throw a green party?"
DD: "With green food and a green cake and green decorations!"
SI: "Green ICE CREAM cake!"
Me: "...that sounds like a pretty good party, actually."
DD: "Me and SI will throw the party, Mommy. You just make sure RH's diaper isn't stinky."

I could handle that.

And plan the party they did. I tried to tell them that people would rather eat apples and grapes than broccoli, but they proved me wrong.

I taught them to make bunting, and they made enough to decorate a full half the yard. And I tended to my job- sending invitations, and making sure all the food was to SI and DD's specifications.

Honeydew, grapes, apples, mini cucumbers, celery, broccoli, guacamole, green tortilla chips, green juice
And green flowers. I was told that was important.
Plus more of SI and DD's bunting!

Of course, no matter how clean her butt, RH was a bit of a pill. I'd just come home from five days away- and she was punishing me for it.

The first day back was a dream, she lay back in her chair and just stared at me, occasionally whispering, "Kiss!" or "Hug!" Mostly just looking at me like I was an angel who had descended from heaven to rescue her from the torments of going to the aquarium daily to see jellyfish with my parents.

She spent the next four days attached to me at the hip, screaming for no reason and demanding amounts of my attention she hasn't commanded since she weaned. She spent a lot of her party crying, as despite DD and SI's planning, I was still essentially on hostess duty.

But like I said, I want to focus on now.

I want to remember what she's like right now.

I want to remember the way she says, "I yike a hair! I yike a face! I yike a pwetty dwess!" every morning when I change her diaper, regardless of what I'm wearing or how I look. I want to remember the way she flails her legs while she's running, but keeps her head steady.

I want to remember how fearless she is. How she crawls under bushes or through the mud without blinking an eye. How she tries every new food. How she jumps into the water without hesitating, much to my terror, or how she leaps off chairs, or stairs, now that she's finally mastered the art of getting both feet off the ground at once.



I want to remember how she puckers her lips into a full on fish face whenever she wants to give a kiss, and how sweet and soft her little kisses are. I want to remember how despite being a monster truck, rolling over everything in her path, she is still gentle with animals, other children, and her toys. Most of the time.

I want to remember how she participates in conversations without having a clue what's happening. How she shouts, "Me too!" about anything and everything, and will not be distracted from being included. How she insists on what she wants, when she wants it, and I find myself acquiescing because I have no real reason not to in the face of her determination.

I want to remember how until two weeks ago, whenever she said, "I lub you!" she followed it immediately by saying, "Good night!"

I want to remember the way she sings, "Shoo fly, don't bother me," or the alphabet song, or "Ring Around the Rosie," with better pitch and timing than her older sisters, even if half the words are incoherent.

I want to remember how sassy she is. How much attitude she's got. How sure of herself, and determined to do whatever her sisters do, and to be part of any joke the adults are enjoying. I want to remember the way she laughs a sound like clinking china and announces, "I laughing!" as though it weren't impossible to notice.

I want to remember the unbearable softness of her skin, and the way her hair smells, and the way that her curls flatten against the top of her head when she's filthy. I want to remember how tidy she is, and how she refuses to eat with her hands if they might get messy. I want to remember being perplexed by how she could get scrambled eggs in her nose, and at the same time how she can finish a bowl of ice cream without spilling a drop.

I want to remember how she asks for something indirectly, like, "Mommy, ponies?" And you try to fill in the blanks, "You want to watch ponies?" And she acts like it was your idea. "Okay!"

I want to remember the way she counts. "One, two, fee, four, five, six, seben, eight, nine, tan, eleben, twelf, fourteen, fourteen, fourteen, fourteen, eighteen, twenny fee!"

I want to remember how if you sing, "Na na na na na," she yells, "Batman!"

I want to remember how serious she often is, focusing on on a task until it is complete to her satisfaction. I want to remember how she seems to study the world with fierceness and determination, cataloging causes and effects and storing them away. I want to remember how much she cares.

I want to remember how unfathomably cheerful she can be.

I want to remember how she sings the theme song to "My Little Ponies," how she dances happily, distracting herself from all else in the world for ages, spinning in circles and hopping, gesturing wildly. I want to remember how she sings, "Tomorrow." I want to remember that she'll go around the room, approaching everybody one at a time, saying, "I gonna eat choo!" until they say, "Oh no! Please don't eat me!" and moves on to the next person.

I want to remember that her favorite movie is "Wreck It Ralph," and I love that sometimes she tells me, "Mommy, I a bad guy!" with an angelic grin and dimples for miles.

I want to remember how her smile lights up like sun when she's happy, even if she's covered head to toe in green frosting and ice cream. Even if five minutes earlier she was sobbing her eyes out.

I want to remember how she curls up on my lap, how she pulls me to the floor to sit on me for no reason. How she calls out, "I lub you, Mommy!" from the back seat of the car, for no reason. How she wants to help me brush my hair, and my teeth, and god help me, how she wants to tear off toilet paper for me in the bathroom.

I want to remember the way her little hand feels in mine.

But I know I'm going to forget.

I look at her big sisters, not that much bigger, and no matter how I wrack my brain it feels as though their nearly-two-ness is already gone. I can't remember them. I've forgotten my own children.

Of course, I know if the two year old version of DD or SI ran up to me, I would know them. But it's not the same.

It wasn't intentional. I was just so busy, and so tired. When DD and SI had their second birthday party, I was already pregnant with RH. When they were two years old I was finishing my degree and running through the day with M gone from before dawn until late an night.

I can watch a video and go, "Oh, yeah, that's how it was." But it's still just not the same.

I didn't have the energy to really hold onto all the moments with my twins. And knowing that, running through milestones and chubby legs and baby curls a second time... it makes it so much harder to know how soon it's gone. And so much sweeter to see it happening.

I truly am enjoying things more this time around.

I don't ever want to forget this little girl.

Happy Birthday, my littlest favorite person.

Let's not get to the next one too fast.

Don't Carry It All

For this week's Twisted Mix Tape, I'm sharing the top eleven of my recent playlist.

I know, it sounds boring. But I want to share the fabulous music I've been enjoying day in and day out. And- for the FIRST TIME- most of this is stuff you've probably heard on the radio.

Can you believe it? What's happened to me?

Or maybe, what's happened to the radio? It's like somebody fixed it and it stopped making the obnoxious noises it's been spewing out the last couple of years. (Wow. I'm old.)

And there's some sad news. This is the third to last Mix Tape Tuesday, probably for a long time. So you can bet I'm going to be posting my mixes until the curtain closes on this particular blog hop. I've loved it, I still love it, and I'm going to miss the hell out of it.

So here we are- my current go-to playlist.



First if all, let's be honest. Since the moment the DVD arrived in the mail, Frozen has been on in my house. On a loop. Every minute the children are allowed to sit in front of the TV. And to be honest, I've been letting them sit in front of the TV a lot. Partially because it means my house stays quite a bit cleaner, and partially because... I really like having Frozen on all the time, constantly, in a loop. And while, yes, I've been singing "Let It Go" like it's my job, SI has been going around singing this like it's her job. Which is even awesomer than it sounds.



I *love* Juliana Hatfield. And her last album was absolutely beautiful. And this is my favorite track from it. While the snow has finally melted and the sun has actually shone through my window, this song has seemed really appropriate to me. It's quiet optimism and confidence, especially in that last line... "Patience." It's been the song of March for me.



This song is another one that makes me happy. I've had a lot of ups and downs the last few months, and this song has gotten me through a few of the rough patches. Thanks, Decembrists. You're always there when I need you.



Another gloomy March song. Beautiful, sad, and a little more. Especially with the addition of the absolutely brilliant video. It's all in the last turn of phrase, in the last refrain. And I love songs that turn around and do that to you, GREAT track.



I don't know what suddenly brought this back to the front of my brain, but here it is. And I can't stop singing it, dancing around, and bobbing my head in the car. Maybe it's swapping out my long heavy skirts for shorter ones, and wandering around in my longer jacket. Nah, couldn't be that.



I'm not much of a fan of pop music, in general. But I can't keep myself from liking MS MR. And even more importantly, how can I not love any song with a Harry Potter reference? Plus, the hook has really spoken to me as I've worked day after day on editing my manuscript. "We fear rejection... dream dream dream of perfection." Kind of a writer's mantra, isn't it?



And now for something completely different. Who doesn't like some Toots and the Maytals? (And can somebody please tell me what a Maytal is?)



I could sing along to Adele singing almost unaccompanied all day long. Or rather, I could if my children didn't shush me and tell me they can't hear "Frozen" over my singing of Adele. Either way, recently this song came back up to the top of my playlist, and it's stayed there. And I've very much enjoyed that turn of events.



In the realm of other totally enjoyable earworms, I present Fitz and the Tantrums. And I apologize, now you'll probably be whistling all day.



Last, but the opposite of least. I could listen to this on a loop forever and always be happy about it. I know, loving "Wrecking Ball" was kind of my guilty pleasure. Thank you, Isosine, for totally rocking the mashup and removing any ounce of guilt I had. I can drive around blasting this, singing along, and just feel like a rock star.

Can't Get Enough

Six years ago this month, my amazing husband-to-be completed a Herculean task.

He burned hundreds of CDs, and labeled them all with individualized labels. Those labels had the names and tables (named for our favorite restaurants) of every guest at our wedding.

Very few of these songs were explicitly "mine" or "his." They are really, fundamentally, all "our songs." When you're as obsessed with mix tapes as I am (and I'm very surprised if you haven't noticed by now how seriously I take them), you don't marry somebody who doesn't take their music just as seriously. You marry somebody who's just as dedicated to the perfect song choices, the perfect order, the perfect MIX.

So what was on the CD?

For this week's Twisted Mix Tape Tuesday I present to you, without further comment, our wedding CD.

Enjoy!

My Farewell to Blogger Idol

My first impulse upon being eliminated from Blogger Idol was instant acceptance. I had known it was coming. That's what happens when you dedicate the majority of your emotional and intellectual energy elsewhere so late in the game. And I have no regrets, I was doing something I believed was important, and I think I may have actually helped someone in doing that. So I'm proud of myself.

My second impulse was to use the link a friend sent me, about a million times. That actually made me laugh my butt off.

Third, I blamed my husband. After all, his advice guided the post that eliminated me, and he has minced no words over the last several months about how much he dislikes this competition. On top of that, my elimination means he gets beard grooming supplies, and he's always been very beard-proud.

That was when I found out I'd actually tied for the lowest score (or second highest, whichever), and I got angry. Or maybe hangry, who knows.

As soon as I realized I was going through my stages of grief backwards, I did what I always do to make myself feel better about life. I ate and pouted. Simultaneously.

First a bag of marshmallows. Yes, the whole bag.

Then I made a double batch of chocolate marzipan cookies.

Then I had a deep friend food fest at my favorite pizzeria. And a nice cup of hot tea.

And then I saw the Desolation of Smaug, ate a bunch of peanut m&ms, and drank a giant slurpee. But I was still bummed out.

So I curled up in my nice warm bed with my nice warm husband and ate more spinach and potato pizza and watched the Daily Show.

And then I realized what had been missing from my process... music.

And so I will bid adieu to Blogger Idol the same way I started... with a song.



So long, Blogger Idol. It's been awesome.

******

I want you to know, that I'm happy for you

I wish nothing but the best for you both

A better writer than me

Are you funnier than me

Would you climb up a tree with a hatchet

Do you write eloquently

And do you have three babies

Or do you write funny stories about your pets  

'cause the votes were for me but a tie wasn't able

To make it enough for me to be Blogger Idol, no

And every time I write a post

Nobody will judge it and tell me

How much it sucks, or it rocks

I'm not in the finals

And I'm here to remind you

Of eleven bloggers who went away

You'll battle for the grand prize

And the new Blogger Idol will be crowned

Go, go, go kick some ass

You judge very well, all the blog posts

I don't write as well, or I'd still be there

Did you forget about me Mr. Manderstanding

Daddy's in Charge wanted me to win the contest

A grin's been slapped on my face because I got to third place

and now we'll find out which blogger i  s the best

'cause you judges are nuts and you sit on your butts

telling us to write stories about being arrested, oh

And every week we'd laugh so hard

We freak out every Tuesday and beg for votes

'til we won, but I lost

I had a good time

And I'm here to remind you

Of the fun I had in Blogger Idol

Best of luck in the Finals

I'll  be judging there like Simon Cowell

You, you, you oughta know

There can be only one

Real Life Parenting

or Mid life at the oasis

'cause the jokes that we made made us laugh every day

And I'm not gonna lose

all of the memories with my new friends, and you know it

And every time I hear that song in some elimination

I'll still hate it...well we all hate it

and I'm here to say Thank You

To my lovely readers who vote for me

You're the best people ever

You got me so far and showed so much love

You, you, you oughta know

and I'm here to say Thank You

To my lovely readers who vote for me

You're the best people ever

You got me so far and showed so much love

You, you, you are the best

From Gaudete to Maccabeats

This week's Twisted Mix Tape is Christmas music.

Yes, I'm Jewish. But I was also a choir nerd, and then an opera student, and so on and so on...

It's impossible to avoid Christmas music. PERIOD. Fortunately, some of it is great.

Enjoy!



As I said, I used to sing opera. And there are no Christmas songs more beautiful or moving than those from the Latin mass. So. Beautiful.



This song is pretty controversial these days. Yes, if you put it into a modern context, this song is SUPER rapey. So creepy. But, if you take it at face value- that this is actually a two-way flirtation and not an insidious attempt to drug, trap, and violate somebody... it's a lot of fun.



One of the all-time great ladies of rock n' roll.  I love that she just went ahead and put a Christmas song on a regular album. Because why the hell not?



My second opera teacher was fairly obsessed with Leontyne Price, and he passed his love affair on to me. In fact, it was getting to know Leontyne Price that took me away from opera. She also sang jazz, and listening to those records in the vocal performance studio changed my mind about what I wanted to sing. From opera to jazz and blues I went. But my love of opera, and of course of Ms. Price, is as strong as ever.



Back to the modern classics... I love this song. It's so sweet, so pretty... and I adore Tori Amos. Definitely my favorite version of this lovely little song.



Still, I can't let a Chistmas mix tape go by without throwing in my Channukah two cents. This is not an age-old classic. But it's my favorite. I LOVE this song. I sing it on a loop, starting the first time each year I think about latkes. "I flip my latkes in the air sometimes..." NOTE: DO NOT FLIP YOUR LATKES IN THE AIR. You will send hot oil flying through the kitchen, wounding everyone present. It's not to be done.



And now a classic Channukah song, in the Moroccan style. This is pretty much *the* Channukah song, and I love how it explores the different aspects of Jewish heritage. It's beautiful.



Last but not least, back to Christmas music. I know, just about everybody's favorite version of Carol of the Bells is the trans-Siberian orchestra. But you will win me over every time with a musical arrangement for twelve cellos. Even if they're all played by the same guy.

Been Caught Stealing

This week's Twisted Mix Tape theme is... Songs that could get me arrested.

Now, I thought for a moment that this referred to songs I have listened to while in the process of doing something seriously illegal. In which case, my list is the entire album "Haunted" by Poe, which I listened to ad nauseum in the middle of the night after stealing my father's convertible and joyriding through the countryside (with a conditional driver's license).

But no, this list is more of a series of jokes. Song titles, where if the subject of the song was something you actually did... well... you'd be arrested.

So with that in mind, my list:




Let's start literally. Stealing is illegal. Period. Bonus? This music video. Is amazing.




My husband and I had our first real musical disagreement over Aerosmith. I contend that they're one of the greatest rock bands of all time, while he describes them as "stripper music." Needless to say, history will undoubtedly vindicate both of us.



It's not in the title, I know, but... "Everybody must get stoned" has a pretty specific set of connotations.



While we're on the subject of songs with CONTENTS that would get us arrested, rather than their titles... this is probably the best song about coke dealers I know. So catchy! So fun! So much cocaine!



Last, but not least, a song notorious for its illegal activity, all of which is implied subtly and never overtly stated. This is the world's most famous song about stalking. Terrifying, constant, ominous stalking. The singer of this song needs help, possibly even more help than the subject of the song... who I seriously recommend ought to talk to a lawyer and get an order of protection. Because this shit is scary.

So Long, Toots!

I'm kind of a terror behind the wheel in any circumstance.

Today it's a Mix Tape free for all!

My theme this week is songs for driving. I know, it sounds vague and lame... but I CARE about what I listen to in the car- particularly on long road trips. Coincidentally, it's pretty much the same music I like to listen to when I'm deep-cleaning the house.

So I'm just going to leave this here where you can enjoy it, hopefully get a lot of stuff done, or stay wide awake while you drive across the country.

Because my favorite mix is one that keeps you moving around.

I know it's supposed to be a short mix, but I can't help myself. :)

Enjoy!





You might remember I'm a Porcupine Tree fan. I love this band. And I'd say about half of the mixes I ever make have a Porcupine Tree track on them. Sometimes "Shesmovedon," sometimes "Last Chance to Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled," sometimes "Arriving Somewhere But Not Here..." you get the idea. But this song showcases a lot of what I *love* about this band. The deep rock, the spectacular vocal harmonies, and the poetic lyricism.

Bonus? I was at this show. And it was amazing.




I live in Chicago, so I really can't help myself from thinking of this song every time I hop in the car after a family holiday. Because I'm headed back to Chicago, and it's been swell. I've danced to this song with my kids more times than I could possibly count. It's good, clean, 90's swing fun.




I had been a fan of Soundgarden, so I was skeptical at best when Chris Cornell went solo. And with song he nearly made me forget about the rest of the band. He has not disappointed since. I won't say I'm a bigger fan of his solo work than I am of, say, Black Hole Sun... but I will say that he's responsible for my favorite Bond theme of all time.

And I am more than passingly familiar with the entire Bond library.




And then, there's this little relic. You may or may not know this, but I'm a classically trained singer. Studied opera and everything. Oh yes. a day will come when I'll make you sit through an opera mix, and you WILL enjoy it. Just don't get me started on Charlotte Church. At any rate, this lady? Has PIPES. And I cannot and will not stop myself from putting down whatever I'm doing to rock out to this song whenever it comes on.




While we're on the subject of songs I MUST sing along with... this would be number one on the list. Actually, it's to the point when a radio station playing "Somebody to Love" makes me a legitimate hazard to anyone else on the road. Because I don't just sing, I ROCK it. And that means front-manning with my microphone steering wheel. And gesticulating wildly. Because I own the stage minivan.




Now let's take it back a notch. Not in terms of theatricality, just in terms of... well... how dangerous I am on the road while I'm singing along. Oh, how I love this song! And I'm not the only one. This is just one of DOZENS of marvelous fan made videos- stage productions, comics, cartoons... it's the sort of song that lends itself to nearly obsessive fan-love.




The first time my parents traveled to Spain for an extended visit, my mother brought me back this album. I'd never heard of Dover. You know what? They're AWESOME. First of all, I adore a sister/sister band. I mean, Breeders? Yes. Please. Second of all, Cristina has an AMAZING voice. Truly unique, and with such SPECTACULAR range and emotion.

You may know them from the one song that's included in a Rock Band music package. So if you play Rock Band, go forth. Rock along with Cristina.




Do you know Flogging Molly? They're one of those bands. You know them, even if you don't know you do. And now you know you know them.




Gogol Bordello. Once upon a time, the ultimate Hipster band. Obscure, dark, deep, funny but esoterically so, political, and unheard of. And then Elijah Wood went ahead and befriended the band (thank you Everything is Illuminated) and brought the band out of "too cool for you to know" obscurity. Much to the chagrin of everyone who loved them back before it was, you know, cool.




And to close it up- a sign off. As I said, my favorite mixes are for driving around. And you know, there's nothing more satisfying when you're cruising around at seventy miles an hour than belting "FUCK YOU" out your open windows, even if it's just to a field of cows in Ontario.


Now go forth, lovely readers, and dance your day away.

I Don't Believe In Gita

It's mix tape Tuesday again! Today's theme? Spiritual Songs.

I have an odd sense of spirituality. Well, that's not exactly true. I'm very much an American Jew. It's a breed of spirituality that can be very hard to explain to Christians.

Christianity is very much connected to a sense of afterlife. A belief in at least Heaven, if not Hell. Jews... don't have that.

We believe that when you die, your body goes into the ground to wait for the messiah. And when the messiah comes, you take a nice hike to Jerusalem.

...that's an oversimplification, but it's the basic gist of it.

Yes, there is talk of Heaven and Hell, but not as places that you go. Hell is the sort of place reserved for the occasional demon or really really really really really really really bad person. I mean, you've got to work at it if you want to go there. You've got to be REALLY evil.

And as for Heaven, well, if you're really really really really really really really good...

See, we don't care too much about the afterlife, as Christians see it. We care VERY much about our day to day, and we care about when the messiah comes.

And you only get to take that nice long walk to the Holy Land if a)you're Jewish, b)you're buried according to Jewish law, and c)the messiah has arrived.

Many modern Jews are skeptical of this idea. That long, long, long after you're dead, you and every other dead Jew there ever was will cram into Jerusalem... well... it's going to be very crowded, isn't it?

And if you don't really believe in Heaven or Hell, or even an abstract description of a delayed afterlife, it's hard to describe yourself in America as "religious." Recently a report came out on the status of Jews in America, and a lot of people were surprised or upset at the results. Many Jews didn't describe themselves as religious, in fact most of them are pretty explicitly atheists. But for us, that's not really a contradiction.

Of course, there are TONS of Jewish people who, if called by a stranger and asked, "So, are you REALLY Jewish? I mean, REALLY Jewish? We're making a list..." Those Jewish people would say, "Oh no, I'm not, don't mind me, just another harmless atheist..."

The fact is, you can be Jewish without believing in God. And you can be Jewish without believing in Heaven or Hell. But it makes Jewish spirituality hard to define.

Jewish spirituality is based in a connection with history, first and foremost. The admonition for Yom Ha'shoah, "Never Forget," doesn't just refer to the Holocaust. It's all of Jewish history. You know that scene in "The Big Lebowski" where Walter explains being Jewish? (1:19)



Ah, the zeal of the convert. But he's right- we're all living in the past. And most varieties of spirituality are about the future. About the afterlife. About the next astral plane.

So is there a point to a religion that doesn't tell you, "Be good and you'll be rewarded. Be bad and you'll be punished," in the real world? I've been asked many times, how does that provide a moral compass? What stops you from killing and stealing and coveting all you want?

Well, there is morality to a spiritual doctrine that doesn't include punishment and reward. And it's one that tells you you are better than any of those urges. (Yes, Judaism is very much about Jewish exceptionalism. I mean, we call ourselves "The Chosen People.")

And the result? I do kill and steal and covet as much as I want. And as much as I want is essentially zero. No fear of eternal damnation required.

At any rate, this list is about spiritual songs. Songs that I find spiritual, for some reason or other. Songs that move me, in a spiritual way. And here they are:





Just as I was saying... I am responsible for my own actions. I am responsible for my own fate. My parents and spiritual upbringing helped instill in me a moral compass that guides me, as Nina Simone says, and if I have no capacity to use those tools, it is my own fault. This is the only song on the list you might generally be able to call a "spiritual."




Spirituality is something difficult to put into words, so I have no trouble including a completely wordless song in my collection of spiritual music. There is something about this that simply moves me. I have waxed rhapsodic about this particular piece of music before... but this clip is THE BEST. Why? Because that conductor IS Stravinsky. That's him, conducting what might be the most transcendent piece of music ever written.

When it comes to the end, you can see in his face... the emotions... the emotions that have brought me to tears every time I hear this music (particularly the start of the last movement- starting about 4:30), since the first time, when I was seventeen and had to pull my car to the side of the road because I was weeping at the wheel. And there is nothing more spiritual for me than the wealth of human emotion, and our ability to share it.




Spirituality is, to me, what connects you with a deeper sense of purpose, or meaning. And this song is that for me. It's not about life and death, it's just about life. And this song kind of saved my life. I know, that sounds melodramatic. But it's true. It pulled me from a depression as deep as any I've ever known. And that's enough to make a convert of most people. Me? I was just born again an Ani fan.




"God is a concept by which we measure our pain." Do I believe this? Sometimes. Sometimes I believe in God as a single entity. Sometimes I believe in God as the unifying benevolent nature of existence. Sometimes I believe in God as the name we give to fate. And sometimes I don't believe in God at all. But the real message of this song isn't that there is no God, it's that life, all of existence, only has the meaning that you give it. And for John, as for me, the deepest meaning that you can give your life is to dedicate it to love.




Kol Nidre is one of the most important prayers in Judaism. As the Torah was originally an oral tradition, when it was transcribed, thousands of years ago, it was transcribed the way it was told... in song. The entire of the Torah (the Old Testament) is written in song. And Kol Nidre isn't in there, it's a separate prayer. It's the prayer you say before reading the Torah on the eve of Yom Kippur. The music has always moved me, and its meaning moves me still more. "With God's permission and the permission of those around us, we hold it lawful to pray with sinners."

Every word is an acknowledgement that we are flawed, and that our flaws are our own responsibility. And the prayer continues as an acknowledgement that we will continue to be flawed. That despite the knowledge we have of our own faults, we will repeat them. It's humbling to say those words. To say, "I am flawed, and I am sorry, and I will try to change and I will fail. And next year, I will be here again." And I do believe that humility is a fundamental property of spirituality.

Spirituality must dictate that you are less than the other, than the unseen, than the holy, than the unknowable. You are a speck of dust in the universe. You are one of billions of people on the earth. You are one of countless creatures in existence. You are less than this creation, or anything that might have been instrumental in creating it.




And there you have it. My spirituality, in five songs.


A note to my Jewish readers who would like to disagree with me on my interpretation of our faith... I welcome all your comments! Just keep in mind our rich heritage of philosophical and theological disagreements- remember the ten plagues! I mean fifty! I mean a hundred and fifty!