Girls Gone Wild at the VMA's! Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga in the Spotlight

Girls Gone Wild at the VMA's!

         I stared at the television screen in complete bewilderment. I squinted my eyes and slowly leaned my head to the left the way Forrest Gump's son did at the end of the movie. It was Nicki Minaj (who I like by the way), at the Video Music Awards; a walking blur of themes and colors, colliding together under a giant Starburst hair hat. In her right hand, was a leash carrying what could only be described as the body parts of various stuffed animals, likely maimed from the twin blades protruding from her Matrix corset. I'm not certain if she took the blue pill or the red pill. And of course, there's the infant-size pink tutu, mismatch thigh-highs and surgical mask (yes, a surgical mask).

          On the opposite end of the spectrum was Lady Gaga, dressed like a guy in Elvis-style garb, apparently symbolic of her androgynous nature. I imagine it must be hard to top last year's arrival in an egg. And then there's Katy Perry who I must thank for finding that missing Rubik's Cube piece that I lost when I was 10 and then making sure she didn't lose it by wearing it on top of her head.

          Still, my teenage daughter thought this was ALL quite normal for them, which made me think that I was REALLY a parent now: completely unconnected to all things pop culture. Not only did I not know half of the 20-somethings bouncing, jumping and gyrating across the stage in dizzying form, I couldn't pronounce their names if I tried. Thank goodness for a good ole' American name like Beyonce who, in true form, stole the show and stunned the crowd. Thank goodness for Britney Spears, who, despite her many public debacles, emerged as a symbol of normalcy, wearing one solid color and delivering an acceptance speech that required no %&*$! bleeps.

          No disrespect to Katy or Lady G or Nicki. I actually like a lot of their music. Between you and I, I'll even sing along if I'm in the car alone. But when o' when does the, Say Yes to the Mess Parade, end? Is this some sort of conspiracy? Is it to torment me because of the hell I gave my parents when I cut my hair like Salt-n-Pepa and dressed like Madonna while practicing the dance moves from Janet Jackson's, Nasty, music video in the bathroom mirror every night before bed? Uh-oh. It suddenly appears like I'm in for it. Apparently, I've got it coming..and then some. What goes around has come back around :-).

Hmmm....Maybe Norman Bates Isn't Psycho After All?

       I'd always dismissed this ridiculous notion that someway, someday, I'd sound like my mother. I was too progressive, too independent, too all-things-ultra-cool. I would not be saddled by tradition or protocol that too often infringed upon the freedom of thought and expression of a child. Stop laughing. I really believed it. In fact, I almost pulled it off. That is, until the teenage years started to settle into the equation, and into my pocketbook. It was similar to an out-of-body experience when I heard my own voice exclaim, "Because I said so." GASP! Some months later, I heard it again. "Where do you think you're going with THAT on?" It was too late. Full swing now. And then, the ultimate came, when you realize, like Norman Bates, that you ARE your mother. "So long as you're living in my house, you will live by my rules." Yikes!!

        I wanted to take it back, but I couldn't. I meant every single word. And my kid is actually pretty good. She's at the top of her class, bathes without prompting, doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, and hasn't auditioned for any reality tv shows, (as of this writing), so I've actually considered myself akin to Charlie Sheen, "winnnnnnning," but we can all  agree - he is not. So, like any idealistic young parent, I have matured into the sanctity of realism. I have accepted that my notions of being genuinely interested in my child's opinion, and deeply committed to her expression of uniqueness, have all been traded in for curfews, structure and that sacred daily national anthem...okay, everybody now, "Oo-ooh, say can you seeeeeeeeee..?" Well then, turn the damn lights off that I'm paying for, it's the middle of the day!?  
        Mom, thank you. You've never been more right.