Here you'll find current musings, as well as the archives from two blogs of yesteryear: YoungMarriedMom and What I Learned While Writing a Novel. Please comment and share. We love well when we are in conversation with one another.
Sometimes I think that I was born in the wrong decade. The clothing styles and music trends of my parents’ generation appeal to me in a way that those of my own just—don’t. Some of it is certainly idealizing the past (a past I admittedly did not experience) and romanticizing a different time. But some of it is that some things were simpler; people were kinder. I imagine when people went into stores (or shops!), clerks actually looked at customers, asked how they were doing, and maybe even meant it. Music lyrics were . . . subtler, to say the least, and more of them were about young, innocent love than anything else.
It seems the Jacob is plagued with this whole born-in-the-wrong-decade thing as well. Unfortunately for him, he’s about fifteen years too late to fulfill his destiny—which is clearly to be an oh-so-adorable member of a teen-heartthrob-type boy band.
We’ve seen already that the boy likes to dance, and sing, and even drum. He’s since started to make these sorts of performances on demand.
And we know that he loves when I sing Justin Bieber to him (another young man stuck in the wrong time . . . and yet thriving!).
The clincher was yesterday, when I was mimicking sounds Jacob was making and found myself launching into (I apologize in advance for getting this stuck in your head) “MMMBop.” If you could have seen the smile on the little man’s face! If he could speak, I’m sure he would have begged for two younger brothers and a drum set.
But alas. It simply isn’t meant to be. Until someone invents a working time machine. Then, move over Nick Carter! Jacob is ready to rock this place.