Call me lame. Call me hormonal. Call me weepywomanwillow for all I care, because that is apparently what I have become.
I don’t know if its the fact that I haven’t seen the sun in four days (read: pottytraining) or if its related to postpartum hormone letdown, or if this is just what it means to be a mom—but I can turn on the waterworks for anything remotely related to motherhood or chillens.
Here’s the confession:
The other day I was at Target looking for non-obnoxious kids movies. My mom was with me, and I was expressing to her how horrid Barney had become in our household so we decided that it was time to initiate Coco into the wonderful world of Disney.
[Pop up magical castle and music–you know, the one that appears right before each Disney film…I like my blogs to have sound effects, I just haven’t mastered the technology required to accomplish that. Bear with me.]
Sadly, there were no Princess movies available—I guess those are hot commodities and are only released from the “Vault” occasionally. This means I have to buy them when they aren’t in said “Vault.” Freaking consumerism. Making me spend money just because it’s only available now…Oh, and how about the annoying fact that my video version is rendered obsolete these days? I know that in two years I’ll have to re-buy everything on Blue Ray. So lame. But that’s just planned obsolescence, and I’ll let the Bob Dylans of today work on that…Back to my ever-so-important-story.
Since Sleeping Beauty and Little Mermaid weren’t available we opted for Tarzan. That was kind of anti-climactic after the rant on consumerism, huh? Sorry.
Sadly, I wasn’t around for Coco’s Disneyian rite of passage. Leann came down for a week while I worked on my thesis and she introduced Coco to this revolutionary experience. Leann’s so great at keeping me in the loop with their shenanigans so she had Coco “sing” me the song from Tarzan. It came out something like this: “Da da la la in my HAWT!” So dang cute. Throughout the week I’d hear Leann sing “You’ll be in my heart,” and Coco respond, “Don’t you cry.” It was all really sweet and cute, but it didn’t hit me full force…
Until a few days ago.
Holy cow, Disney! What are you trying to do? Did the songwriters just finish reading “Forever and Always My Baby You’ll be”????
Here I am cleaning my kitchen, Tarzan’s on in the background, and that song comes on. All of a sudden it comes together and I lose it! If you’re a mama, read these lyrics. If you’re not, just skim over and humor me, k?
Ok, it goes on for awhile after that. And I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a sap monster, but when giving birth is fresh in your mind, when a child waking up in the night is a daily ocurrance, when your mom leaves to go home 6 hours away (and you cry cause you’re still a baby), when you know that you will have a cyclical lifetime of love and joy and agony over a single child–this song GETS TO YOU!
So there in my living room (or foyer, or kitchen, depending on your angle) I stood completely dumbfounded by Disney and Phil Collins. I just started crying.
And then Matt said: “Oh, this song is soooo annoying!”
I wanted to throw Elmo at him.
But I figured the signifiers were lost on him. Some things you just have to be a hormonal and sleep-deprived mom to get.
And to keep things light–how’d this guy get in here again?! I just googled images and this popped up. Maybe I won’t be emotional anymore. You’ve done it again, Al. You’ve done it again.