bad theology

When my husband was a teen he loved to irritate his Italian mamma by putting up posters of evil rock and roll bands and listening to their wicked music.  It gave him no end of pleasure.  His mamma was convinced he was being led astray, especially if he listened to those songs backwards.

Our kiddos usually listen to music at night, too.  Of course it's a desperate attempt to get them to sleep longer (ideally, like 20 hours) and it started with the whole Baby Mozart craze of a decade ago.  My babies must listen to zee Mozart so that they will be the SMARTEST babies in the world!  Either that, or they'll get seizures.  It's a toss up, but totally worth the chance.  Motherhood is full of impossible choices.

Do I put them to sleep on their bellies or their backs? Wait!  They have sides.  I can put her on her side.  Flip that baby like a cheese omelet every ten minutes; we must be certain.


Cloth diapers or disposal?  Cloth makes me feel uber hippy sensitive, like I'm single handedly saving the planet with every bowel movement.  Disposal make their pants fit better.


Is it illegal to sign your munchkin up at the Fred Meyer playland/babysitter service and then go sit in your car and read?


Tough choices like that.

Anyway, after the Baby Mozart phase phased out we switched to white noise.  Mostly because I am addicted to white noise while sleeping.  It's like crack to me.  I can't live without it, plain and simple.  My kids don't care so I care for them.  Because that's what mothers do.  If mothers are cold they tell their kid to put on a coat.  If mothers are hungry they force feed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to their kid.  It's how we roll.  It's how your mother rolled.  We are rollin' in the deep.  Deep in peanut butter.  Well, not me because my kid is allergic so we mostly roll in Nutella.

What in the world was I talking about?
Right.  Music.

So since they weren't digging the white noise, we just learned to hit the Repeat button on their cd players.  This is how my four year old son knows all the words to Mamma Mia and Bon Jovi's Lost Highway album.  But in the last move our cd player became possessed by a strange and evil spirit that causes the volume to steadily increase all night long until Meryl Streep was really cookin' about money, money, money.  So we were forced to switch to the radio, not that we don't love Meryl because she's like the bestest, but really.  In the efforts to keep up with our Christian persona, we choice the popular KLove station for dem babies to croon themselves to sleep to.  Until one night...

My theology obsessive husband informs me that the precious mold-able minds of our youngsters have been inundated with *drum roll, puhleeze*

bad theology.

Which, in his book, is worse than a little Pink Floyd or Poison.
He was frothing at the mouth (husband, not sleeping child).  The offending song?

"Someone Worth Dying For."

"Are you kidding me?" he asks, incredulously.  "When we're feeling down on ourselves and depressed and hating sin, we just have to remember that we were worth dying for?"

"That doesn't sound soooooo bad," I answer, half heartedly.  Half hearted because I am struggling to hear him over my beloved white noise. Actually, I'm not struggling so much as I'm ignoring.

"Not so bad?" he croaks. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a fantastically great person like me??"


"Oh.  Oh, yeah.  I see your point.  If we were so wonderful, then it diminishes His wonderfulness, huh?  If we were so fan-freaking-tastic then it makes His sacrifice a nice thing to do instead of a mind blowing thing to do..."

"After listening to this come-as-you-are-and-leave-the-same-way, there's-a-god-shaped-hole-in-your-heart, jesus-lover-of-my-soul mumbo jumbo, our kids are going to grow up lazy, luke warm, Americanized, namby pamby, prosperity driven, pseudo Christians!  I can't take it!  What's next, midnight readings of The Shack? Sneaking out the window to go to Watchtower meetings?  Another year of this and our kids will be out of control." 

And that is why Christian radio has been replaced by heavy metal in our kid's bedrooms.
Also, Alice Cooper is a Christian and he just might possibly have good theology.

This one's for the ladies

As you all know, my peeps and I are rabid Bon Jovi fans, so here's the best of the best of the photos of our opening night concert in Seattle. The higher quality ones are from Mariah, who should probably just quit her completely unimportant job as a social worker and take up rock star photography which is really what the world needs more of anyway.


Here's us looking all glam before hand. Ok, ok, basically we slapped on extra mascara and put on earrings, but still. When you're 30 something house wives, this is as glam as you get. And poor Mariah had a practically broken back from falling down stairs that morning, a bruised up elbow, and a wicked case of food poisoning. Still smiling! That's my girl.

Here's the posse... If Kelly looks contemplative it's because she was writing The Sequel to The Movie in My Head. This movie (in her head) involved a lot of strange happenings, like as we walk down Pike Place a mysterious limo slows down and kidnaps us and lo, the inhabitants are Bon Jovi. The night was spent with random musings, and sometimes shoutouts, of
'In the movie in my head...!' etc etc etc.
She should probably write a blog.
She could call it The Movie in My Head, by Kelly. Dot blogspot.com
But frankly, I don't want the competition.

The Yssa Sisters. Look out Seattle!

And now...onto the good stuff...

Ahhh, so passionate about the songs...that's why we were there, the songs.

Of course.

Ahhhh, big dreamy sigh...

How cute is this? Two best buds who've playing music together for 30 years, poundin' it.

We were hoarse by the end.

Did I mention this post is for the ladies?

You.

Are.

Welcome.

We were kinda hatin' all these lucky ducks who got to be so close. He was singing "Hallelujah" here, which, if you haven't heard him sing it, please download now.

Really.

I'll wait.

Crazy piano playin.

For the #2 Sexiest Man Alive (that's for you, snooky), sometimes he does a dorky chicken dance.

And now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.