BEYONCE…I’M OBSESSED A “MOTHER” OF A RANT!
Let me start this off by stating… “I’m a grown woman and I can do whatever I want Hmmm Hmmm”… Oh sorry that’s a Beyonce lyric and I got momentarily caught up with excitement at just the thought of writing about her. But yes suffice it to say I am a grown woman who is Obsessed with Beyonce Knowles Carter.
Like not the obsessed where I’ve been to all of her concerts, downloaded all of her music, waited outside her hotel screaming and followed her from city to city going to concerts and screaming! No not that …kind of obsessed. Though I have no judgement and sounds like tons of fun.
In fact now that you mention it I haven’t been to one concert. Ugh. I might have downloaded one or two of her cd’s including the new one. I always seem to be too late to “know” when she is in town. Drat. You see I got kids and work and a husband and a life and to be totally honest me and live concert ticket prices…well we battle with shoes and bags and the lights.
But I like her… a lot a lot. Like I’m even saving up now for a ticket for when she is next in town. Because I think she is beyond cute and oh so adorable and oh so pretty and well kinda beautiful in that “is she really that beautiful” kinda way. Like seriously that’s kinda way Beautiful…Right!! . Digressing again. And yes I do find that if in between doing work if she happens to be on the Yahoo news board doing something with that beyond cuteness Baby Girl, or like Singing at the White House or hanging out on a yacht or something with her super cool business tycoon/rapper hubby…yep I’m about 85-90% likely to “click thru”.
And we have so much in common…She’s a mom and I’m a mom. She’s a woman and I’m a woman… And then there is the whole thing about us being human beings. Ok I won’t go there. No I don’t have a mega watt singing career and legions of devoted fans chanting my name and all apart of my “hive” how cool is that. I’m an ordinary woman and mom and I love watching another woman another mom do it so very unstoppably Awesome!! Like a serious “Demi Moore pregnant on the cover of Vanity Fair Moment.” I mean who really took “pregnancy photos” before that? Come on name someone…I’ll wait.
She has a hubby and a kid and she is rocking it so fashionable and so hard with so much passion and so much grace. I am #MomInspired on full tilt… yes to 5 more minutes of abs and lunges and what oh what am I doing with my hair!!
Now I missed the live moment when she did “Drunk in Love” at the Grammy’s. Drat! I had reminded myself that the Grammy’s were gonna be on. I mean come on I live in LA. But it wasn’t until the more than usual congestion on the roads plus Bentley spotting number 5 that it hit me the Grammy’s are in town!! Right that’s what’s plastered on every Billboard and constantly promoted on live radio. Cool got it. But just like a mom I was putting the kiddies to bed when they came on. And well they wanted one more story. Ok ok now please go to bed Beyonce is on!! “One more Pretty please Mama” …Aaahhh ok one more and then you MUST go to BED!!
BEYONCE IS ON!!
So yes I missed it live but not to worry. There is this marvel of a site called YouTube. This one billion and counting transformative…seriously did you record that…how did you record that? Bevy of performance recordings by auteurs who will show you everything from how to train your cat to how to put on your socks. It is truly a mesmerizing pice of wizardry. I emplore you not to visit if you have work to do of any sort. You can get lost down the rabbit hole of YouTube-dom quick as your 2 year old can pick a piece of gum off the sidewalk.
So I was not worried. The video was uploaded within minutes of the performance. Who’s to say it wasn’t even done simultaneously. I mean seriously I think she was just walking down the steps with her guy and then ping it’s on there for me to watch. Again and again. .
I LOVED it…Oh the Hair, the Body the Outfit, her Guy the Two, the Love, the Steam ,the Chair… My eyes were having a viewing ice cream party! Whoohooo!! I Love Ice Cream!!
So imagine my surprise when next day and for many days after there was so much negative talk and Flak.
The chair the hips the costume the sexy the her. Then I heard lots of Mommy words. Like inappropriate and what mommy’s should do and should not do and Bad Examples and Responsibility and oh so much fuss. I was stunned. Ok fine not stunned but interested. Hmmm has anyone seen the Myley performance? I mean I hadn’t until like right now. True story. I just stopped writing long enough to watch the performance. WOW OK! Now forgive me here cuz I’m about to get real. She’s a teenager (ok young adult) and well she has many more years to grow ahead of her. God Bless her growing up self.
For me I grew up in the era of Madonna, Prince, NWA, Gangster Rap, Michael Jackson, Metallica, Guns and Roses, Hole and Nirvana.
Maybe they ruined lots of lives with their performances. Maybe so many kids thought there was a Black Jesus and you could dance around him in the church while crosses burned in the yard. Maybe the Purple Master made you wear lots of Purple and pray for rain while wearing lipstick, bell bottoms and heels.
My mother let me watch some and forbid others. She limited tv (really hardly any) I watched in secret or at a friends. She over shared. My God her talks and all of the Sharing! The body parts. The things that could happen if you did things with those parts. The way cauliflower looking things could grow on parts if you do things with people and their parts, when you shouldn’t. Oh the pictures the pictures forever melted like cheese on a outdoor grill on my brain. She shared about how boys would behave and how I should behave ( I did lots of grinding in the dark hallways of school). Ok they weren’t really dark we just closed our eyes. I dressed appropriately to church and school ( fine I changed on the bus). I was expected to do well in school and punishment was assured if I did not. She was interested in my friends and their parents ( she needed to meet EVERYONE). We constantly moved (so there were always a bevy of new people to meet.) I moved from town to town. I lived in the projects the country the city. I saw drugs I saw violence I saw gangs I saw bad things. Bad things happened to me. I didn’t always do what was right…I grew up!
I don’t in any corner of my brain think that Mrs Carter should raise my kids. Alas she has her own Blue piece of sky and I have mine. With all of my admiration I am not also under the impression that she is perfect. Lord knows I am not. I’m sure that her artist self and her “responsible people are watching self” must have long talks. Lord knows I do. I don’t think my mom thought Madonna should do the honors for her nor that Prince should be my pops. Though I didn’t know mine and hey he might have been fun. I like purple but maybe not that much.
Any country girl raised on a Farm can tell ya. No matter how far away from “town” you are there is still always some rolling in the hay. And of course there are those damn bunnies procreating along with the sheep and the cows and the horses. Doggone it!! Why can’t we make it all just stop.
We are all doing our best to raise our kids. We want them to be happy and healthy. We want them to know right from wrong and be good and kind. We want them to thrive and strive and think for themselves. We want them to not hurt themselves or others. We want them to be their best self. Not like Katie or Stacy or Lucy or Tim or Kevin or Tommy…or Prince or Beyonce. No just be good at being you. We want them to stand up for what’s right and recycle.
The only thing I know to do so far is to
Shield and then Reveal.
Talk and then let them Do.
Watch then allow them to Grow.
At this house you get schedules, time outs, rewards, punishment and unconditional love. You get boundaries and curfews and you See… Unconditional Love. You get parental blocks and lots and lots of Vegetables, organic fruit, re-useable bags and Unconditional Love. You will get tools and skills and lots of Talks Lawd a Mercy so much talking.
And in the end like every mother must I will throw it all up to the sky and pray…very very Hard.
The Chair or the Foam Finger
Won’t do me in