This is Not Moppy Bams

As part of my day “job” requires, I listen to a LOT of kid music. I am OK with that. I have embraced the fact that the high, sing-songy children’s albums out there will be my norm for the foreseeable future. But every now and then, this mama and music lover needs a break.

Apparently, Harrison needs breaks, too. Lately, when he’s in the middle of a complete meltdown, and I have no idea what else to do, I go the iPod, search out some of my music to turn on and then go about my business (while keeping him in eyesight, of course) until the storm passes. I don’t think that my music is the key, but it certainly helps me from joining him in the tears and kicking on the floor, so maybe it is helping more than I realize.

Seeing as our morning started before 7:00 today, when he’s been sleeping in past 7:30 all week, it is no surprise that today brought out the need for Mama’s music. You wouldn’t think that extra 30 minutes would mean so much, but with my child, it is all in the (sleep) details. In the midst of trying to warm up lunch and get HD into his chair, he decided the world had ended and nothing I could do or say was going to fix it. So I let him work it out on his own and sat down by myself at the table to eat until he was calm enough to join me. To give us something else to listen to besides the wailing, I turned on a live album from Guster.

It seems that when I need to cool myself down because Harrison needs to cool himself down, I turn to some of my oldie by goodie music. Not true oldies, mind you…just the bands that have been my favorites for well over a decade even though their albums have been sorely neglected in recent years. It seems that I almost always need the mellow moods and gorgeous guitars of Dave Matthews and Guster when the tantrums strike.

When Harrison is feeling mellow, one of his favorite questions is, “What’s this called?” We have not entered the Phase of Why yet, but I figure this is the first stepping stone to getting us there because this question is asked, on average, dozens of times each day. When I first started play DMB during our meals a few weeks ago, Harrison pointed to the stereo and of course asked, “What’s this called?” So I told him we were listening to the Dave Matthews Band. Somehow this became translated, in Harrison-speak, to Moppy Bams. No idea how or why, but when he first said it back to me, I couldn’t help but laugh which instantly cemented the name in his brain because my child loves to get reactions (good and bad) from people. But really – Moppy Bams?! How comical is that?

This week, our band of choice has been Guster. Today, when I told him what “this” was called, he repeated the band’s name several times before grinning and saying, “This is Moppy Bams? No! This is Guster!” And then the grin and the phrase were on repeat because clearly he was pleased with his little joke. I have to say, it made me smile, too, which is great because having the two of us both smiling was a big improvement from where we were 15 minutes prior in our day.

Thank goodness for unexpected discoveries. I never would have guessed that my old jam bands would be soothing to my son’s soul, but it’s nice to know that he goes on smiling, even after the world has ended for the third time in one day.

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