Thursday, July 29, 2010


** Lots of "F-bombs" in this post. Sorry. Lady Gaga made me do it.

I know I have become more emotional post-child. I cry at commercials. Fucking commercials. Have you seen the commercial where the teenage girl just moved to a new school and she is in the lunch room with her cafeteria tray looking around for somewhere to sit. You can fill the panic rising as she glances around the room trying to find any welcoming eyes and of course everyone else is an asshole and ignores her. She finally is brave enough to join a table of girls and when she sits down they all get up. Bitches. And the poor girl is sitting alone at a huge table with her bullshit lunch ready to cry until finally another girl, who has been observing the whole situation, feels enough compassion to leave her lunch table and join the new girl. Gets me every time. I don't even know what it is a commercial for, but I love it.

These new found emotions were in full-force last night. Lady Gaga put on quite a show. It was big. It was visual. She said fuck a lot. A LOT. And her fans love her. So much screaming. I think some people were even crying. If you didn't know, Lady Gaga is a big deal.

Lady Gaga's message is to be an individual. To stop caring what everyone else thinks. Believe in what is important to you. To accept yourself, even if those around you (like your parents) don't. And if you have ever seen any of Lady Gaga's outfits you can go ahead and assume she does not care in the slightest what anyone else thinks.

I couldn't help think about these kids in their GAGA outfits (and there were some outfits) trying to live their lives with disapproving parents. We saw all sorts of gay teenage boys and I was so sad that some of these kids felt their only ally was Lady effing Gaga. (Now, I am sure some parents are absolutely fantastic and supporters of their kids, and blah blah. But you know there are some mom or dads who have flat out refused to talk to their kids because of how they dress or the music they listen to or sexual orientation. Ryan and I see it in our job every day).

Ryan and I have certainly talked about what kind of future we want for Paul. We want him to be nice and not do drugs and to like school and play baseball and go to college and get a good job and fall in love with a nice girl and have some babies. But most importantly (we always say) we want Paul to be happy. And like himself.

There is a possibility Paul may not follow the path I would think is best for him. He may pave his own way. Maybe he will want to be in the band. Or on swim team. Or play lacrosse. Or be a cheerleader. Or maybe he will want to dress in a mesh tank-top and wear black eyeliner and scream his face off at Lady Gaga. So guess what? We'll be at those band concerts and swim practices. We'll be at lacrosse games or cheer camp. And guess who will be driving the carpool to the concert, singing Poker Face armed with extra make-up in case anyone needs to reapply? We will.

Because when Lady Gaga says believe in your fucking self, I fucking listen.


  1. this is a wonderful post. this should be in a magazine or a newspaper or a parent newsletter! what a wonderful hip momma!


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