fuck yeah, motherhood!
I’ll admit it, I am a total baby when it comes to certain things. For instance, any movie/book/song about a pet being hurt or dying ends with me in a heap, experiencing a quivering sobgasm. Poorly behaved and destructive yellow lab in Marley and Me, sob. The Burt Reynolds dog in All Dogs Go To Heaven, sob. The song Wildfire, sob. Old Yeller, Homeward Bound, The Fox and The Hound, sob sob sob.
And don’t get me STARTED on anything about children/moms dying. The baby and the twins in Angela’s Ashes, sob. The baby in Trainspotting, sob. Sally Field in Forrest Gump, sob. Sally Field in Steele Magnolias, sob. (While we are on the subject, fuck you, Sally Field. I’ve got dignity, okay?)
Then there’s the song. The damn damn hell damn christmas song. I can’t tell you the first time I heard it, seems like it’s always been around. Taunting me. Rubbing my face in the fact that it can take me down in the four minutes and thirty seconds it pollutes pop radio for each time it plays. But it’s right to gloat. It’s got me right where it wants me.
If you haven’t heard the song, or really listened, I’ve included the video. Though it says “New Song” on the graphic, I can assure you that it’s the original version by Bob Carlisle. You know the guy who brought you the song that has, since its release, ruined nearly every father/daughter wedding dance the world over, Butterfly Kisses (go google that one yourself, I limit myself to one shitty song per post, thanks). Here, for your viewing pleasure, are the lyrics:
It was almost Christmas time
There I stood in another line
Trying to buy that last gift or two
Not really in the Christmas mood
Standing right in front of me
Was a little boy waiting anxiously
Pacing around like little boys do
And in his hands he held
A pair of shoes
And his clothes were worn and old
He was dirty from head to toe
And when it came his time to pay
I couldn’t believe what I heard him say
Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus, tonight.
He counted pennies for what seem like years
And cashier says son there’s not enough here
He searched his pockets franticly
And he turned and he looked at me
He said Momma made Christmas good at our house
Though most years she just did without
Tell me Sir
What am I gonna do?
Some how Ive got to buy her these Christmas shoes
So I layed the money down
I just had to help him out
And I’ll never forget
The look on his face
When he said Momma’s gonna look so great.
Sir I wanna buy these shoes, for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful,
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.
I knew I caught a glimpse of heavens love as he thanked me and ran out.
I know that God had sent that little boy to remind me
What Christmas is all about
Sir I wanna buy these shoes for my Momma please
It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry Sir?
Daddy says there’s not much time
You see she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes will make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight
I want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight.
Please tell me you read that and said, “Who the fuck are you, Bob Carlisle, to write such emotional drivel, designed to not only tug at the heartstrings but fucking floss its teeth with them?” No? Well, how refined of you.
Anyway, it’s a big joke in our house that someone can sing just one line of that song or play the opening notes and I will be succumb to fat, wet tears. Being 15 and 17, the kids are over the moon about making me look like an idiot. In the car this past christmas season, the song came on.
Him: Turn it up! It’s Mom’s song!
Me: No, please, I’m trying to drive. *sniff*
Her: Oh, yes, we MUST turn it up. Mom HATES to miss her song.
I cried, the song ended, I got mad. “WHO WRITES SUCH A THING?” I shouted. Then said, “We should write a song. A manipulative, sad song. I could use a million bucks. What should it be about?”
Him: A dead puppy! And it was a boy’s only friend!
Her: No! A baby! A dead baby! And IT was a boy’s only friend!
Me: Yes! Yes! Beautiful!
Her: And the dead baby was retarded! A retarded dead baby! The saddest of all! We’ll make a BILLION dollars!
My tears were gone and there was no more sadness. I was secure in the fact that I was raising my kids right.
