867-5309

Going home means something different now that I don't do it very often.

I moved to the other side of the state a year ago. When it comes to little kids, that means that I went from being a full-time aunt on the weekends, oftentimes on Friday night through Sunday afternoon, to seeing my nieces once a month for a few hours at a time.

That's a bummer, yes, but it's a life change that was necessary for me.

Plus, it's made for some pretty hilarious little kid moments.

I went home for Easter last weekend. I was home for 25 hours, and I could probably come up with 25 different little kid stories to share.

I'll start with this first. 

My little curly haired niece, one of the twins, is 8 years old. She wanted to play 'Doctor' with her papa, my dad. Little curly haired K gets one of papa's shirts, puts it on and pretends it's a doctor's coat, and puts on a pair of my dad's glasses.

Good doctors wear glasses and coats.

Next, my dad sits down in a chair and starts answering the doctor's questions. 

But the question my little niece started out with had me trying really hard not to laugh at the kitchen table, where my mom and I were eavesdropping. 

Little K's first question to her patient: "What's your dog's name?"

Papa said his dog's name was Ralph. I have no idea how he answered that question with a straight face, because I was cracking up in the kitchen.

Your dog's name is important to you when you're that young.

Papa was eventually diagnosed and treated with Band-Aids on his ears and lotion on his face. 

After my little niece was done with her patient, my mom and I looked at the notepad that she was writing on during her appointment. She wrote her patient's phone number down as 867-5309.

And then we all laughed until our sides hurt.

If anyone reads this and doesn't understand that phone number, we need to have a little chat after you watch this.

For my own selfish reasons, I hope I influence my three nieces in a variety of ways, my love of music being the one thing I want them to inherit from me.

When your age is less than two whole hands and you know 867-5309 by heart, well, that means you're being raised right, in my opinion.

This is the cutest thing that I've witnessed recently.

I love that curly haired kid more than life itself. 

Stick that in your country blog.

I spent a riveting 40 minutes on the phone with my parents last night, and what I’m about to share might be my favorite thing I’ve ever written.

I interviewed my parents about concerts they went to, both before and after they met, concerts they took my brother and I go when we were little, the first record they ever bought, and a few other things along the way.

 

I was thinking of breaking this up into several blog posts, but I like it the way it is. It’s kind of long, messy, skips here and there, and rambles a bit.

 

It’s a lot like life. It doesn’t make sense at times, but we’re just going to roll with it and see where it goes.

 

--

 

The first concert my Mom ever went to was ZZ Top in Hays, Kansas, in 1977.

 

She went with a “special friend” who, might I add, was not my Dad. (My Dad was at that concert with a buddy of his, though, which was two years before my parents met.)

 

Me: “Was your ‘special friend’ cute?”

 

Mom: “Yes. But I won’t give details.”

 

That was in 1977. My Mom was 19.

 

The first concert my Dad saw was Barry Manilow, also in Hays, Kansas on October 18, 1975. He was 20.

 

--

 

I stopped this portion of the interview to ask a very important question.

 

If you went to your first concert at 19 and 20 years old, why did you start taking your kids to concerts so young?

 

I was around six years old when I saw Chris LeDoux. My brother was nine.

 

It was a question I genuinely want to know the answer to. In my adult life, I think it’s weird that people experience their first concert after high school. That just seems so old to me.

 

I guess I automatically assume that everyone was raised like I was – going to concerts so young that you’re not even able to form memories of them.

 

So, Kansas parents, why did you take my brother and I to concerts when we were so young?

 

My Mom: “What else were we going to do with you?”

 

Dad: “We tried to sell you, but no one wanted you.”

 

Those answers are perfect.

 

Mom: “We took you places.”

 

Dad: “We wanted you to open your eyes. Look at what you’re doing now.  You’re succeeding.”

 

I don’t know about that, but I’ll take whatever compliment I can get.

My Mom and I at Church in 2017 in Wichita. My first time seeing him!

--

 

Growing up, I remember my Mom being a big country music fan. Dad was more rock. But in my world, Mom was always a country music person.

 

That was not always the case.

 

My parents went and saw Ricky Skaggs in Dodge City. According to them, I was about a year old, so let’s say this is around 1986. (They did not take me.)

 

My Mom said Ricky Skaggs was so good at that show, that she went back and got his autograph after the show.

 

Ricky Skaggs asked my mom if she was a big country music fan. My Mom said not really.

 

Ricky Skaggs said to my mom: “Well, I hope I converted you, darling.”

 

My reaction to hearing that: Wayne Newton’s hitting on Mom!

 

--

 

Other concerts my Dad went to when he was a young lad include Chicago, ZZ Top and Neil Sedaka.

 

My Dad: “There was a band opening for Chicago that no one had ever heard of. It was Charlie Daniel’s Band. I remember seeing them and thinking, ‘Who are these people?!?’”

 

--                                                                           

 

The first concert I ever went to was Chris LeDoux in Dodge City, which is my hometown.

 

My parents and I scoured the internet, meaning we Googled it for about five minutes, and we could not come up with a date for that concert. However, Western Underground came out in 1991, so it was around then.

 

I was six years old and I had Western Underground on cassette tape. I carried my little brown and tan tape player with me everywhere, listening to Chris LeDoux. It had a handle on it and looked like a purse.

 

I loved Chris LeDoux when I was little. This Cowboy’s Hat is still one of my favorite songs.

 

The thing that hurts my heart and soul is that I don’t remember going to his concert. I was too little. I also don’t remember getting his autograph, but I do have it. He wrote my name on it at a meet and greet.

 

My Dad did not go to this concert.

 

According to my Mom, she took my brother and I to a lot of concerts by herself.

 

“Dad always worked late.”

 

A woman going to a concert by herself? That sounds familiar.

 

Bad ass.

 

(Both of us.)

 

--

 

Other interview notes:

 

Faith Hill opened for Brooks and Dunn in 1994 in Dodge City. I was apparently at this concert, although I don’t remember it. More on that later.

 

My brother did not go, and no one really remembers why.

 

I think that’s hilarious.

 

Alan Jackson was in 1995 at the Kansas State Fair in Hutchinson. This is the first concert I officially remember going to. I was 10, and I’ll talk on that more later.

 

--

So, Mom, I said. Before you liked country, what did you listen to?

 

“The Monkeys.”

 

It was the first vinyl she ever bought.

 

According to my Dad, back then (I didn’t ask what years ‘then’ was), there was only one FM radio station, and it was top 40s pop. If you wanted to listen to something else, your friends would tell you about “a good record – you ought to go get it.”

 

--

 

The first record my Dad ever bought was The Rolling Stones.

 

Dad: “There was a contest on who was the best: The Beatles, The Monkeys, or The Rolling Stones. There’d be long arguments about that.”

 

This was in the 1960s.

 

--

 

There was no record store in Dodge City back in the day. My parents bought records through Columbia Record Club, a subscription service from which they bought 9-10 records a year out of Terra Haute, Indiana.

 

Please note that Dodge City, Kansas, is a 2.5 hour drive from Wichita, the nearest major city. Dodge City is literally in the middle of nowhere.

 

Mom: “That was the only way to get records, through the mail.”

 

Also, Gibson’s (a department store) had records. There was no Walmart in 1981, when my parents got married, according to them.

 

Mom: “You had to be part of a record club or go to Wichita. After that, it was 8-tracks, cassettes and CDs.”

 

And then Hastings opened in the early 80s. They had records.

 

Dad: “It was a big deal with Hastings opened up. It was like when Blockbuster opened up. It was a big deal.”

 

(I don’t even know how many times he said “It was a big deal.” It was, evidently, a big deal.)

 

Also, my Dad was a member of an 8-track club.

 

Note: I don’t understand the record club thing. According to my Mom, it was like a modern day Boxy Charm, only for music.

 

You could pick your LP, but if you didn’t send your card in, then you got one that was a ‘record of the month’ that the club picked for you.

 

Mom: “That was the only way to get records out here.”

 

Me: So they sent you records through the mail? Like, snail mail?

 

My Mom: “Yes. It’s like what Church does.”

 

Okay, I get it now. If you bring Eric Church into the mix, then I understand it better.

 

--

 

Okay, parents. What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to?

 

My Dad says Brooks and Dunn in 1994.

 

Dad: “I had a freaking blast at that concert. What got me is that it was in Dodge City, Kansas. It sounded like they were playing in a freaking studio. They didn’t miss a beat.”

 

Mom: “You were drunk.”

 

Dad: “I remember being drunk. They had it goin’ on. They were freaking great. When you see them in an outdoor setting and they sound like they’re in the studio, they just got it goin’ on.”

 

I was at this concert. I was 9 years old and I don’t remember it.

 

I wish I did.

 

My opinion: Brooks and Dunn had it goin’ on back then, and they still have it goin’ on now.

 

Also, when I was in high school, my dad randomly bought me a CD, without me prompting him and not on my birthday or for Christmas. It was the only CD he ever bought me randomly, and for no reason at all.

 

It was a Brooks and Dunn CD.

 

--

 

My Mom’s favorite concert: George Strait in Kansas City in 2001.

 

My parents sat in the nosebleeds at Arrowhead Stadium under a blanket.

 

It was the George Strait Country Music Festival, and my parents went without my brother and I. I remember they came back from the concert, told us how great it us, and said that my brother and I needed to see it.

 

We went to Dallas and saw George Strait (and friends!) at Texas Stadium.

 

It was Texas, it was in June, and it was hotter than hell out. I bought my best friend a yellow George Strait tank top as a ‘thank you’ gift for watching our family dogs while we were on that trip.

 

At that concert, I saw two grown ass drunk men head butt each other in broad daylight. I remember seeing blood all over the concrete by the bathrooms.

 

Welcome to country concerts, teenage Monica. You go to a fight and a concert breaks out.

 

Dad: “There was enough beer to go around, but there wasn’t enough water. They ran out of water, but not beer. Figure that out.”

 

Alan Jackson performed on that tour. His set was during the day, and Texas Stadium had a giant cut out in its roof. There was a section of the crowd that sat in the sun all damn day and baked.

 

We were in that section of the crowd.

 

My parents said Alan Jackson talked to the people in the sun and asked them if they were warm.

 

It was so fucking hot that day.

 

My Mom: “George is great.”

 

Also my Mom: “Country music was different back then.”

 

I agree.

 

--

 

Between both of my parents, they have about 100 vinyl records.

 

My Dad apparently built a rack for them in the basement (which I’ve not seen yet.)

 

He says the records are doing well there.

 

Mom: “You check on them?”

 

Dad: “Yeah.”

 

--

This is the first picture of Eric Church I ever took. Well...his name, anyway. Wichita 2017

A while back, my Dad gave me a Burton Cummings vinyl album, and held it side by side to an Eric Church record. Both albums are…basically giant faces of men with shaggy hair.

 

As my Dad calls my favorite artist: “What’s his name?”

 

Just wait until next month, Dad, when you go to Church for the first time. Just wait. You just won’t be the same person after that.

 

It changes you.

 

--

 

I treated interviewing my parents like a real interview, because it was a real interview. It’s an interview for a story that I’m writing.

 

(My college degree is in journalism, and I was a newspaper reporter for many years during high school, college, and the start of my professional life. I’ve done this whole interviewing and writing thing a few times in my life.)

 

As with any interview I do, I asked my final question: Is there anything else you’d like to add?

 

My Dad: “Put that in your country blog.”

 

For those of you who don’t speak my language: Eric Church has a song called Stick That in Your Country Song.

 

And that’s how I knew what the title of this post was going to be. It was handed to me on a silver platter by the man who once bought me a Brooks and Dunn CD without me even asking for it.

 

--

 

Here are some random concert and music notes from Monicaland.

 

• My first concert was Chris LeDoux around the age of 6.

 

• The first concert that I remember is Alan Jackson. I was 10. According to my Mom, I asked why all the women screamed when he “turned around and shook his butt.”

 

My Mom’s answer: “You’ll understand when you get a little older.”

 

I get it now. I understand.

 

Also, I remember standing on the bleachers on my tippy toes to see him.

 

My Dad had to work in Dallas the next day, so he caught a flight there while my Mom took my brother and I to the concert.

 

• The first vinyl I ever bought was Eric Church’s Desperate Man.

 

• The first song on vinyl I ever remember hearing is Hotel California. If I remember right, I got a CD player for Christmas that held five CDs – FIVE CDS – which was pretty groundbreaking in the 1990s.

 

It had a record player on top of it, so my parents brought some records up from the basement and played them for me.

 

I still remember that.

 

• The first CD I ever bought was The Fugees. I still love Killing Me Softly (With His Hands).

 

• The first check I wrote was also for a CD, and it was Alicia Keys.

 

--

 

I don’t know the number of concerts I’ve been to in my life, but it’s quite a few.

 

My hometown is a rodeo town. Each summer, there’s always a country concert that kicks off the rodeo.

 

When my brother and I were little, it was a really big deal. I remember my parents driving past the rodeo grounds to show us the semi trucks that brought all of the stage and sound equipment.

 

After we drove past the rodeo grounds, we would always go find the tour bus, which in a pretty small town in southwest Kansas, was always at the same hotel. The nicest hotel in town.

 

Also, back then, we didn’t have many hotels in town.

 

I remember it was a really big deal to see the tour buses in town. We got so excited because that’s where ‘whoever is playing the concert tonight’ is.

 

It was just so freaking cool.

 

Also, during my DC trip, one of my Uber drivers dumped me off in the middle of a street by two tour buses by The Anthem.

 

My life has come full circle.

--

 

I went to college in and near Wichita, Kansas. My parents came to see me quite a few times, but it was never just to see me.

 

They had tickets to whatever concert they wanted to go to, and they bought me a ticket so I could tag along.

 

We saw Gary Allan four times in Wichita this way.

 

It was also a chance for me to get out of my crappy dorm room and stay in a nice hotel for a couple of nights.

 

That’s why I liked Gary Allan a lot in college. He brought good news into my life – a concert, my parents to town, a free dinner and usually a free breakfast the day after. And maybe they topped my tank off with gas and bought me some groceries or goodies, too.

 

College Monica liked Gary Allan a lot.

 

Grown up Monica still likes him a lot, too.

 

--

 

I quizzed my parents on whether I went to Brooks and Dunn with them in 1994. They were adamant that I was there. I was nine years old, I don’t remember it, and my Dad was drunk.

 

Almost 30 years later, I am slowly starting to realize that the apple does not fall far from the tree.

 

--

 

I could talk about concerts and music forever. But as I'm typing this in Microsoft Word, I’m on page 9, so I need to wrap this up.

 

Here’s a list of concerts I’ve been to in my life. Not dates, locations or years. Just the artists. I think it’s cool to keep a list. This is in no particular order, and this started when my parents took me to a concert when I was six years old.

 

I have a theory: How you’re raised is how you live.

 

I think that’s pretty accurate.

 

My concert list:

 

• Chris LeDoux

• Brooks and Dunn

• Reba

• Alan Jackson, a few times.

• George Strait

• Eric Church…times 13. Soon to be 16. I have a problem.

• Gary Allan, times 5.

• Lee Ann Womak

• Sara Evans

• Asleep at the Wheel

• Lonestar

• Brad Paisley

• Maren Morris and her husband

• Jake Owen

• Lanco, twice

• Mike Ryan…opened for somebody. Lanco, maybe?

• CJ Solar (opened for Gary Allan)

• Justin Moore

• Jerrod Neimann, twice

• Weird Al Yankovic

• Hanson, times 6

• NSYNC, twice

• Chris Cagle

• Creed

• Gavin Degraw

• The SteelDrivers

• Thomas Rhett

• Brett Eldridge

• Brothers Osborne

• John Michael Montgomery

• STYX

• ZZ Top

• Lynyrd Skynyrd

• Mannheim Steamroller

• A bluegrass festival in college, times three, where I was introduced to John McCutcheon. I love that guy.

Top 10 List

I am getting dangerously close to 50,000 blog views on thishereblog.

I'm pretty excited about that. I remember when I was excited to hit 6,000 views. Also, most of them are probably my parents (hi Mom and Dad!). 

I thought I'd walk you through a little history of thishereblog first, before we delve into what really matters here, which is music.

First off: My most read blog post ever, of all time, is a story about how Eric Church stole my sharpie. 

That makes me laugh so hard, you have no idea. :) 

I have blog views from 29 states and 11 countries. I don't know anyone from out of the country, but if you're reading, this, hi! Welcome to my little piece of Kansas.

---

I started this blog when I switched from working in journalism to working in marketing and public relations. As a newspaper reporter, you write all day, every day. 

In marketing and public relations, you don't write as much. Maybe you write something twice a week, or twice a month. 

The idea behind starting my blog was to keep up writing personally, that way I would never lose it professionally. But the thing is, guys, I will never lose it professionally (or personally). It's something I've always done and will continue to do for the rest of my days.

---

This is a post I've been pretty excited to write about. 

My Dad and I talk about this pretty often. We throw around songs and try to name our top five favorite songs of all time, from any artist, ever.

I'm going to name my top 10 songs for this blog post, and then go into other people's Top 10 list in another blog post. 

I also enjoy getting to know everyone's pissed off song. (Mine is Misery by Soul Asylum. My brother's is Leave me Alone by Hopsin.) So feel free to throw me your favorite pissed off song my way if you read this.

---

Here are my top 10 favorite songs, in order. I'll include a brief explanation of why each song is on the list. 

1. Sweet Emotion - Aerosmith

The year was 1998, and the Armageddon movie, and its soundtrack, came out. My middle school friends and I loved the movie, and we bought the soundtrack on CD. I remember who was there that day, where we were, and the color of the walls when I first heard this song on that soundtrack.

The moment I heard this song is the moment I fell in love with music. My Dad has a really funny and embarrassing story about how I came home from that friend's house and told him about this new band I just heard. 

That new band? 

"It's this new band, Dad, called Aerosmith!"

I was 12, guys. I didn't know any better. 

My life hasn't been the same since. 

---

2. Love Without End, Amen

I don't know about the whole marriage thing, but if I ever find someone willing to put up with me forever, this would be my Dad-daughter dance song. 

It will likely never happen, but I still hold a little bit of hope that it might.

A tiny bit of hope. It's microscopic, but it's there. And it's my favorite George Strait song ever.

Daddies don't just love their children every now and then. It's a love without end, Amen.

---

3. Record Year - Eric Church

This is the song that first got me hooked on Eric Church's music. I've written about it plenty before, but when I figured out that this song is a break up song, it changed my life. 

It saved my life. 

As with a lot of his music, this song found me after a break up. I could give you the details, but in the end, how and why the relationship ended doesn't really matter. (For the record, he married the girl he cheated on me with.)

She got a husband who will probably cheat again. 

I got Eric Church.

I win. 

Front row in Denver. My heart is full.

---

4. Carry On My Wayward Son

My nickname in college was Kansas for a summer. Every time I hear this song, I'm 22 years old again. I'm singing this song at a karaoke bar, I'm drunk, I'm not sure where my cell phone or purse is, but I'm singing this song surrounded by my buddies and I really don't care about anything else in life.

Because the Kansas girl is singing Kansas. 

Don't you cry no more.

---

5. Along Came You - John McCutcheon

I went to college in a little town in Kansas called Winfield, which has a pretty big bluegrass festival. I'd never listened to bluegrass music before, but my Dad came to town and took a friend and I to this festival while I lived there.

Along Came You has been my favorite love song since. 

Along came you, just when I thought my whole life was through. Never believed there was more than I knew, then along came you. 

---

6. Some of It - Eric Church

This shouldn't surprise anyone, but I have another break up story involving Eric Church's music. Shocking, right?

The guy I was dating had been talking to his ex-girlfriend from years earlier, and was planning to meet up with her. I begged him not to and to stop talking to her. (It turns out that if you have to beg your boyfriend not to cheat on you, he's probably not marriage material.)

"She just wants a shoulder to cry on," he told me.

Yeah, buddy, that's not what she wants to cry on.

I got pissed off one night and left his place, for the last time. Before I left, I stood in his living room for a few minutes to see if he would get up and try to stop me from leaving.

He didn't.

There's a feeling you have when you leave someone for the final time. I looked around his place, at his very nice things, thought of his very nice and new truck, and I thought to myself: I can't believe I will never see any of this again.

I went out to my car and turned the ignition on.

Eric Church's beautiful voice sang to me: "What really makes you a man, is being true to her 'til your glass runs out of sand."

It's funny how music finds you when you need it most. 

---

7. Mississippi Queen - Mountain

I found this song because it's one of my Dad's favorite songs. I don't think I need to explain it, but everything about this song is perfect and beautiful.

---

8. Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

I don't think I need to explain this one to anyone. My favorite text message to send to people when we're talking about stormy weather: Thunder bolts and lightning, very very frightening.

:)

---

9. Where the Green Grass Grows - Tim McGraw

I always played this song in my car when I came home from college. When I hit my home county, when I saw that Ford County sign, I always played this song.

For a while, I lived in a concrete jungle. I hated it and was always excited to come home, where the green grass grows.

I've kind of made a career going to little towns instead of big, sexy cities. That's not surprising, given my love for this song. 

Watch my corn pop up in rows

Spend every night tucked in close to you

---

10. This Cowboy's Hat - Chris LeDoux

I loved Chris LeDoux when I was little. In 1991, when Western Underground came out, I had the cassette tape of it. I played it over and over in my little tape recorder (it was brown and tan, and had a handle on it. It looked like a purse). 

The thing is, though, I was six years old. I didn't know how to flip the tape over to listen to the other side. I asked my older brother to do it, and he never helped me flip the tape over.

He didn't do it one single time. Jerk.

I couldn't figure out how to flip the tape over (I was six!), so I just pressed the rewind button and listened to the same five songs over and over. 

To this day, I still don't listen to the last five songs on Western Underground, because those songs don't mean anything to me.

The first five songs, though? Those songs are my entire childhood. 

Now if your leather jacket means to you what this hat means to me

Then I guess we understand each other, and we'll just let it be

But if you still think it's funny, man you got my back up against the wall

And if you touch my hat, you're gonna have to fight us all.

Flies in

There are a couple of topics that are on my mind that I haven't touched on yet.

The first one is creativity.

There's no way to say this with class, so I'm just going to throw it out there. It's really, really hard to be creative when you're homeless.

(How's that for a sentence I never thought I'd say out loud?)

Before I sold my house in my hometown, I had ways I could be creative if I felt like it. I knew where all of my belongings were, so if I wanted to paint, I could paint. Not only could I paint, I could paint several things.

Canvas! Paint pouring! Watercolor! Pastels!

So many options!

Perhaps someone made me mad and I wanted to reach for an adult coloring book full of naughty words?

I did that often.

Or maybe if I was down, I could reach for my favorite book of all time, which always cheers me up. (The Five People You Meet in Heaven.)

I've learned through therapy that I have to have an outlet when things get bad. I can't just sit around and do nothing. When things get bad, I need to have my fingers doing some sort of art to get my mind off of things.

The thing is, though, when you don't have a permanent roof over your head, all of these creative outlets are packed away in boxes hundreds of miles away.

It sucks.

I do have some of my possessions with me right now, but I haven't found my art supplies yet. I don't know where my colored pencils or markers or paints are.

I did find my favorite book the other day, though, and I cried like a baby when I unpacked it. And then I hugged it (and its prequel) and then I cried some more.

Painting, photography, design and all of the other creative things that I like to do are all secondary loves in my life. I'm good at some of those things, all right at some of those things, and mediocre at some of them.

But those all secondary loves of mine. My first love in life will always be writing.

I never thought my writing was worthy of being in pretty journals, so I never bought them. I always just bought notebooks that kids use in school to write in.

But recently I've learned that maybe I am worthy after all. 

A few weeks ago, I bought a set of three journals. The one I'm currently writing in in black, just the right size, and has a moon and flowers on it.

My writing is worthy of being in it.

Some of the writing I can share on here, some of it can only be shared with my closest friends. (I'm so, so sorry, guys. Haha.)

It's been years since I've written with pencil and paper.

I've learned to find that creative escape and just roll with it. 

--

Every time Raven goes outside here, I hold the door open for her.

She takes her sweet time. Sometimes she gets lost and I have to pick her up and toss her outside.

I've been telling her for a few days that she's really good at letting flies in. Fyi, letting flies in means you're cute, but you're pretty much worthless.

I wrote this tonight. 

I thought you'd like it.

--

Flies in

 

I saw my brother’s kids

the other day

A red head and a curly blonde-haired kid

‘I love you 100’ they’d say

 

It’s summertime in Kansas

100 degrees in the dry summer sun

I gave those kids a flyswatter

And then I let them run

 

They screamed and ran around

started smacking things

Watching them reminds me

of the songs we used to sing

 

On the swings

On the playground

As I left to go home

I hugged them and told them I’d see them around

 

Their baby sister

Blue-eyed and dirty blonde hair

I just want to sit her down

And explain all the drama she’ll fair

 

Sometimes you meet someone

who’s only good at letting flies in

And then when that door finally shuts

Your whole world will spin

 

Three little girls,

Seven, seven and five years old

In 10 years, they’ll meet a boy

Then they’ll be whirled and twirled

 

Three little beautiful girls

I don’t know how to tell them this

In 10, 15, or 20 years

Their whole world will be amiss

 

Stay little as long as you can, girls

Don’t play with make up yet

Instead

go outside and sweat

 

Play your little heart out

Jump on the trampoline

Sing as loud as you can

Dance in the basement with Papa and a tambourine

 

Sing about rock and roll

About coconuts and chicken wings and all those times when

Do this before you fall for someone who’s only good at

Letting the flies in

 

Take a wooden spoon

Sit on my kitchen floor

Bang on the tubberware containers

While your Grandma laughs in the door

 

Please color me pictures

To hang on my fridge

If you keep painting and drawing me more

I’ll move them on the door just a smidge

 

I look at these beautiful kids

And wonder when

I’ll find someone who is good at something

Other than letting flies in

 

Girls, go fishing with Papa

Whenever he wants to

Lie about how big the fish is

It’s okay if some things are untrue

 

Please name the fish

Flower, Sparkles or Cutie Pie

And give that fish a kiss

before you meet a guy

 

I can never explain

how much I love you

Please run to me, let me spin you around

Before all the drama and boys ensue

 

Please don’t grow up too fast

And when I ask for a kiss

Go to the cabinet, pull out a chocolate one

Place it in my hand, God I’ll miss this

 

Kids, the only thing your aunt excels at

is finding men

Who are only good

At letting the flies in

 

Please hug me as hard as you can

I’ll take you swimming and sledding

And then I’ll take you home, tell you I love you so much

And tuck you in under your Spiderman bedding

 

I’ll go back to my house

Reach down deep within

And silently wonder when I’ll meet someone

Who’s good at something other than letting flies in

 

Girls, there will be a day

When your daddy will walk you down the aisle

And it might take a while

But I’ll be right beside him, with a smile

 

And I can’t wait for the day in your life

When I find out

who flies in