No, I don't mean that kind of Mormon, although technically I am. But I refer not to the flashy, interesting, or sympathetic beings you may have heard over mass media. I mean just the opposite, in fact. I'm talking the stereotype. I'm talking the perky, almost jingoistic title song "I'm a Mormon" that was popular in my youth. You know... "I'm a Mormon, yes I am! And if you want to study a Mormon I'm a living specimen" ...from the red cassette tape.
I loved those songs in grade school, was embarrassed of them in junior high, mocked them in high school, and completely forgot about them in college. But it seems that they have made an impact far deeper in my psyche than I could have ever thought possible. I refer the infamous song "I Want to be a Mother."
I loved those songs in grade school, was embarrassed of them in junior high, mocked them in high school, and completely forgot about them in college. But it seems that they have made an impact far deeper in my psyche than I could have ever thought possible. I refer the infamous song "I Want to be a Mother."
When I grow up, I want to be a mother
And have a family,
One little, two little, three little babies of my own.
Of all the jobs, for me I'll choose no other.
I'll have a family,
Four little, five little, SIX little babies in my home.
(emphasis added)
And have a family,
One little, two little, three little babies of my own.
Of all the jobs, for me I'll choose no other.
I'll have a family,
Four little, five little, SIX little babies in my home.
(emphasis added)
So, I am now pregnant with my sixth little "blessing from above" it occurs to me how I am living out my grade school dream and have become what I most feared in high school. Because of course the lyrics are so super, super cheesy...
And I will love them all day long,
And give them cookies and milk and yellow balloons,
And cuddle them when things go wrong.
And read them stories and sing them pretty tunes.
And give them cookies and milk and yellow balloons,
And cuddle them when things go wrong.
And read them stories and sing them pretty tunes.
...and because any self respecting high-schooler struggling to find her own identity has to exorcise the demons of her youth by ridiculing them, I made up my own words...
When I grow up, I want to be a doctor
And give lobotomies,
One little, two little, three little veggies of my own.
And give lobotomies,
One little, two little, three little veggies of my own.
...which today I see were not very kind, yet still funny. My version of the song continues until I had employed "a scalpel, a knife, and sterile balloons," but the joke is on me now. Recognizing this, I have decided to embrace it.
What better way to announce to my children that I was pregnant than to give them "cookies and milk and yellow balloons."
What better way to announce to my children that I was pregnant than to give them "cookies and milk and yellow balloons."
1 comment:
Congrats Lisa!!! It is funny that today i checked your blog for the first time in months. What a day to log on!!! I am thrilled for you and in awe of your parenting confidence. I struggle to be sane with just two, although I claim I want more. I can hardly imagine six. What a lucky baby you will have. All my love to your family, Andrea Shupe
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