I want my MTV...

As I'm sure several of you are aware, last night was the annual MTV Video Music Award show.
Unless my memory fails me, I haven't missed this show for at least the last 15 years running.
But it's funny - the way that I watch this show has changed since I was in high school.  Here's are a few of those changes.

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Then:  I would write down every winner in a notebook so I could gab about it with my friends at school the next day.
Now:  I refreshed my Twitter feed obsessively and made comments to my best friend from high school (even though she's 300 miles away) in real-time with the show.

Then:  MTV sometimes actually AIRED the videos they were honoring this night.
Now:  The only reason I've seen any of these videos is because of curiosity and YouTube.

Then: Only the biggest names in music and sometimes film were invited to attend.
Now:  These guys were invited:

Then:  Britney Spears stripped, made out with two girls on stage, and showed her crotch to the world when she got out of her limousine.
Now:  Britney Spears thanks God in her speech while dressed completely glamorous and classy and looks horrified at most of the people showing up at the awards.

Congratulations.  You've made Britney Spears look normal.
photo credit: MTV.com

Then: Katie Holmes was an attendee at the awards because she was on the hit show Dawson's Creek.
Now:  Katie Holmes is an attendee because...I don't know why?

That sweater is STILL better than Nicki Minaj's outfit.

Then: I was so "in the know" when it came to all of the nominees and attendees, their personal life dramas, and the music they were being honored for.
Now:  I'm still not totally sure who Gaga was supposed to be last night.

Patrick Swayze in The Outsiders?

Then:  I took a break from watching the show to refill my soda, make a bowl of popcorn, and chat on the phone to someone who was also watching it.
Now:  I took a break to give TIH a bath and do a load of laundry after he threw up all over his crib, himself, and his stuffed lamb.

Then:  I watched the show front to back and stayed up to watch the replay to make sure I didn't miss a single thing.
Now:  I saw that it was 9:30 pm and decided to call it a night.  I can watch it on DVR tomorrow.  Without commercials.

I never want to act my age...

A few days ago I made a very adult decision.
I oscillate between maturity and immaturity given the day the hour. So for me, this decision was huge.

In May, American Idol announced they'd be holding auditions in my hometown. Even though I had given up on watching the show (it kind of died for me when Simon left), I have always wanted to audition. Having missed my chance the first time auditions rolled through St. Louis (to be present for rush week for my sorority...OH, YES), I toyed with the idea of auditioning this year. For those that don't know, Idol cuts you off from auditioning after age 28. So, this was really my last shot.

My husband and I even got plans in place for TIH in case he and I got held up late at the auditions (because OF COURSE he had to go with me), I told my boss about it, I had my co-workers all ready to be pretend Steven/JLo/Randy for my final "rehearsal," and I had polled just about everyone I knew about what songs I should sing.

Then, my husband's grandmother passed away and I ended up taking an entire week away from work in order to attend the funeral and spend some time with his family. The minute I turned in my request for leave, I knew my American Idol dream was over.

The thing is? I don't really mind it that much.

Yes. I want to be the next Carrie Underwood (and have her legs and beautiful hair too). Yes. I still have dreams about having a performance career.

And.

I also want to be able to be with my family in a time of need. I want to be able to be with my son at all times (and not that I had any delusion of making it past the audition process, but can you IMAGINE a 1 year old at Hollywood Week?) I want to be a responsible employee that doesn't follow up a week of leave with two more days of leave.

So, I didn't go.
I watched our local Fox affiliate interview Idol hopefuls. Watched them sing their 30 seconds of "Rolling in the Deep" and "Jesus Take the Wheel." A twinge of jealousy? Yes.
Mostly? Just a gut feeling that I was doing the right thing.
Also, not being jealous at all of having to stand out in the awful summer humidity so common to this area.

I think sometimes there are just dreams we grow out of. I used to really want to tour the country or work on a cruise ship, but then I met my husband, fell head over heels (I know, vom), and a new dream was born - living a blissfully happy life with him.

I was a member of a cover band starting the year I got married. I sang with them all throughout my pregnancy (Seriously. Up until I was about 8 months pregnant and had to sit down while singing because otherwise I'd start having contractions. So punk rock.) My plan was to immediately return to singing with the band, and well - you all can guess how that went.

I haven't actually been back on a stage to perform (unless you count singing Ave Maria at my husband's grandmother's funeral last week) since I had TIH. Strangely, though I miss the rush I get from performing, I haven't even given it that much thought.

That's not to say I don't still want to be a rockstar sometimes. I think I've just redefined what rockstar means to me.

My wardrobe changes usually involve someone spitting up.
My regular performances usually involve singing some verse of "If You're Happy and You Know It."
My sleepless nights have nothing to do with sitting around at the bar after doing the 9:00 pm - 1:00 am show.
My guitar has dust on it, my sparkly gig shirts don't fit anymore, and my liquid liner is dried out.

I'm still very happy.

I think we never let go of our old dreams. They just kind of grow with us. Our heart grows to fit all of it in.
And what can I say? Old dreams die hard.
Maybe I won't be the next American Idol. But, I get to be New Mom on the Blog. That's pretty cool. I'll take it.



This was two months before I was pregnant with TIH. The recording quality is awful, I completely flubbed up most of the chords on the guitar, and I came straight from a dance audition so I was looking sweaty and wilted. And? It was AWESOME.

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When I grow up, I'll turn the tables...

As I've mentioned before, I spend an incredible amount of time in my car during the week.  My daily commute is 70 miles round trip.  But, I like the taxes and the safety and the rural quaintness of the suburban city we live in, so I'm willing to brave the whitetrash Bubbas at the Wal Mart and have pretty much accepted that I can't get home from work in less than 40 minutes.  Even in good traffic.  But, thanks to go-cups of coffee and Sirius radio (Live On Broadway - Sirius Channel 77, can I get a what, what?  No?  Just me?) I don't always despise my trips in the car.  Honestly, I've started to kind of revel in them.  80+ minutes of quiet alone time during all of which I am required to sit down?  Sign. Me. Up.

I find I'm not suddenly beside myself with rage if traffic backs up a little bit.  I just sip my beverage, settle in my seat a bit, and enjoy the OBC recording of Hairspray.

So, maybe that's why, in my showtunes and caffeine induced stupor, that I found myself on the highway being passed all over the place by cars. Because I was driving. On a Friday. Going 63 mph.  In the fast lane. 

On this particular interstate during rush hour on Friday, I'm lucky I didn't get shot.

Once I got out of my daze, I upped my speed to 70 mph.  10 over the posted speed limit.  Fast enough?

No.  Cars were still passing me all over the place and one began to tailgate me so closely, I'm pretty sure I  have a bit of the paint from his fender on my car.  Not to be defeated, I pressed the accelerator to 75 mph.

Cars still passing me.  Double middle fingers being thrown in my direction from the car behind me.

At this point, out of principle I refused to get over.  And upped my speed to 80 mph.  Immediately, I was scared as all get out and finally the car behind me got over and screeched past me.  I lowered my speed considerably and continued my journey home.  And then it struck me - when did I start traveling below 80 on the interstate?

It is with a large amount of shame and guilt that I tell you that it wasn't too long ago that I would have not only been going well over 80 mph, I was probably also talking on my phone, or worse - texting while driving. (I know, I know.  The thought of it makes me shudder.)  In fact, I was probably more like the guy in the car behind me, flipping people the double bird and saying some very un-Christian-like things to little old ladies cruising in the fast lane in their giant Buick Le Sabres.  And yet, somehow, either because of my steadily advancing age or the precious cargo I am so often toting with me, I am suddenly a more careful and responsible driver.

I gave up distraction in the car for Lent last year.  No phone usage (and if I had to talk on my phone, it was on the Bluetooth only), no loud music, no eating foods that required two hands at anytime.  But, even in doing that, I don't think I was consciously making the effort to become a safer driver in general. 

And yet, here I am, going 63 in the fast lane and thinking that it is an incredibly reasonable and safe speed.  Screaming un-Christian-like things to the people tailgating me.  Shaking my head at the recklessness of others.  Carefully passing people who look like they might be (gasp) texting and driving.  Constantly yelling at my husband (when he is in the driver seat and likely going the posted speed limit) to SLOWDOWNFORTHELOVEOFGOD.

I just feel so...old.
It's a welcome change.  And a surprising one at that.