Perhaps one of the more unexpected roles of motherhood is The Lyricist.
It starts out innocently enough. You’re home by yourself with baby, narrating everything you do aloud (“We’re washing the dishes,” “Putting away the knives,” “F*ck that’s sharp! I mean, frick!”). Then, the narration evolves into a sing-song ditty not unlike the musical stylings of Marhsall Eriksen. I come by this naturally. My grandfather was a happy-go-lucky guy who sang to himself all the time. And on both sides of the family, we wrote songs, poems and skits for every occasion.
My mother took the nursery rhyme route. She changed the words to popular melodies and even created some of her own for songs about changing diapers, bath time and going potty. I still use these. Pure gold.
And I’ve taken it a step further, adapting some of my favorite current songs and a few disco hits:
“Voodoo Lady” by Ween > “Doo Doo Baby”
“Super Freak” by Rick James > “Super Stink” (He’s super stinky…)
“Boogie Nights” by Heatwave > “Boogie Wipes”
You might not think you have it in you. But you’ll be surprised what sleep deprivation and long spans with no adult contact will do to a person. Like when you see a homeless person pushing his shopping cart and muttering to himself nonsensically? That will be you at the grocery store… only with a baby.
Any moms out there have some musical gems to share? We want to hear from you!