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One bad thing about being the goddess mother of two boys is that I don’t think they fully appreciate all of my goddess-like qualities.

Just the other day, I was working away in the kitchen and as usual I was singing. Nothing makes kitchen-work seem easier and go faster than a good beat and catchy lyrics. You would think my little hoodlums would be happy that I was making their dinner and leave it at that, but NO! These ungrateful brats put their hands over their ears and started  yelling, “mo- OM! Stop! We can’t stand it!” on and on until I had to sing quite loudly to cover all the noise they were making.

A less confident person might take the fact that their children are curled up in a fetal position with their hands over their ears as an insult. Not I.  The truth is folks, I have the voice of a freaking angel!  Also, I know why the boys act as if my singing sounds like a cat with its tail caught in the door…there is something horribly wrong with their ears.

It’s true, their poor little ears are completely broken. I have taken the boys in several times to have their ears checked and the doctors tell me they are fine, but I know better. Every time I tell the boys to take out the trash, they look at me as if I am speaking Klingon.  I know I am speaking plain English but it enters their broken ears and gets all messed up.  I say, “Go clean your room.” They hear, “Go lie on your bed and read comic books.”

My hope is that as they grow their ears will develop and they will not only understand plain English, but they will appreciate my singing voice for the heavenly instrument that it is.  I would try to explain to them that singing makes me happy and after years of me changing their shitty diapers, cooking their food, cleaning up their barf, (those last two items are completely unrelated) driving them to hell and back and losing countless hours of sleep, the least they can do is let me sing without the sound of moaning and groaning in the background. “Sing along or shut up” is my motto.

Sadly I know that any explanation I make will enter their poor broken ears and if their Klingon to English translator misfires I could very well be telling them how to build a bomb in the garage. Instead I open the door and point. After they go outside I lock the door and turn up the music….I should probably let them back in now.

And check the garage for bombs.


Seriously folks, the voice of an angel. It can make grown men cry.