Ooooooooklahoma!

When I was a teenager, my parents helped run an NA group as well as hosted a youth group in our home. Our circle was fairly wide back in the day and, often, my parents would encounter people in tough situations who needed a place to stay. We had an extra room, so throughout those years a variety of folks temporarily joined our family. Most were completely normal. Some were decidedly not, like the lady recently released from jail who let my little brother light a fire in the basement. My parents also used to pick up hitchhikers and bring them home for a hot meal and, occasionally, an overnight stay. It’s sorta miraculous that we all escaped being murdered in our beds, but hey…. It was an adventure!

I digress.

Several of these very normal guests thought we were the weird ones. Looking back, this was pretty spot on, to be honest. We most definitely were weird. Case in point: remember answering machines? My parents made us do take after take of animal sounds in the background while my mom recorded a message about having reached Bray’s Zoo and being unable to answer the phone because she was busy feeding the animals. (Mom, seriously!?) One guest in particular thought it was completely odd that we’d all break in song or movie quote spontaneously when the situation warranted. She told her friends that her life was now an actual musical. I realized this week that I’ve done the exact same thing with my own kids – a realization brought on by a total stranger on a plane who said, “Wow, you sure sing a lot to that baby…” in a voice that clearly meant: “Please shut up, crazy lady”. I mean, some things are just appropriate. I don’t see how that’s my fault. You’re a mean one, Mister Grinch! You reallllly are a heeeeel… Ok dude. Maybe I see your point.

All my kids have their own songs. Most were made up when they were young and have stuck around long enough that if I start it off, the rest of the kids join in. Roo’s song has a little nonsense tune and goes “Roody Doody/Fresh and fruity/Mama loves/That baby booty”. And you best believe I’m gonna be shouting that as he walks across the stage to receive his diploma. Heck YES I am.

Bean’s song is roughly to the tune of Baby Shark and she haaaaaaates it. My preference is to belt at top volume while she frantically burrows under covers trying to sleep. “It is time to get up/It is time to get up/It is time to get up because you stink/It is time to take a shower/Because you don’t smell like a flower/It is time to take a shower because you stink”. There are other verses, but you get the jist. It’s pretty hilarious, if I do say so myself.

Boogie has just gotten his own song this month. Think R. Kelly. “I believe I need pie/I believe I’m a chunky guy/I dream of eating every night and day/String cheese and blueberries all the way/I believe I need more/Take down this gate so I can get to the fridge door/I believe I need pie/It can be baked or fried but I believe I need pie.”

Don’t let anyone tell you that your own brand of weird is not goofily endearing. They’re wrong. The things that make you weird are the things your children will lament about when they’re teenagers and laugh about when they’re grown. You’ve got this! You’re not some crappy has-been musical number making the casino tour: you are Moulin Rouge. You are Holiday Inn. You. Are. Oklahoma.

Boogie, in all his frowsy-headed, chubby thighed glory. Geez, this kid is the absolute unit.