Flourishing hypocrite

Music is the lilt in my step, the spark in my eyes. I love it. Always have, always will. I like all kinds, even mild rap (never thought I'd say that), but my favorite is Top 40.

I remember when I was in college I had a professor who loved music. He said to really understand it, you had to get submerged in the rhythm and lyrics.

"Sit in the middle of the room with the volume turned up, speakers surrounding you. Close your eyes and let the melody flourish within your soul."

At the time, I was like WEIRDO! Don't get me wrong, I have loved tunes for as long as I can remember. But he spoke as if he were having a love affair with someone named Opus.

Now I understand what he meant. I get lost in music. I dissect the words and meaning. I feel it. After all, I AM a poet.

But I'm a MOM, too; and some of today's lyrics are t-rash-y. That doesn't mean I don't like those songs. It means I don't want my kids to hear the foul language and nasty words.

So when a song comes on with R-rated vocabulary, I simply change the channel.

"Why'd you change it, Mom? We like that song."

Guess what I do? I put the song back on, but I try to start a conversation to distract them before "the word, line, etc." comes up. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Then I do the unthinkable. I turn the volume down. Do you think they get what I'm doing?

They do. The other day I heard them talking about the whole thing while we were in the car as if I weren't there. I was busted.

My rebuttal: "Well, as long as you understand those are just words. They don't mean anything."

Sometimes you just have to be a hypocrite when you're a parent.

~laurie kolp

Read more at A Whitesnake's Bite Can Be Lethal