Baby, Cause I’m a Thug…

I just found out that 2 Live Crew is reuniting and going out on tour. (Mom–whatever you do, do NOT Google 2 Live Crew).

This both amuses and devastates me seeing as how I can’t believe 2 Live Crew is old enough to have a “reunion tour”. Strike that…I can’t believe that I am old enough for them to be on a “reunion tour”.

How many white 35 year old suburban moms with diapers in the bottom of their Kate Spade purses will be at these concerts? Probably more than one might imagine.

Before anyone has a full on heart attack, I won’t be going to see them (although sometimes a little Hoochie Mama can cheer a sister right up). But hearing about this reunion tour got me thinking.

My friends will tell you I have horrible taste in music (well, not entirely horrible…I do like more socially acceptable music also). I mean to tell you, if any of AK’s classmates’ moms saw my iPod playlist for running, I’d be horrified.

Behind the stay-at-home-mom-of-small-children mask of exhaustion and exasperation, hides a closeted hood rat. Which is hilarious to some, considering I am the whitest, squarest, most straight laced Kindergarten mom on the block.

Wait…cussing doesn’t count as straight laced does it? Well, anyway.

I’m not your typical Busta Rhymes concert attendee is what I mean. That being said, I am not above blaring a little Wiz Khalifa while I cruise my hood and hit my usual spots on the East Side–Target, Safeway and Costco. (That’s pretty much the Bermuda Triangle of San Ramon moms). I do realize I must look ridiculous jamming out to Uncle Luke with a Britax in the back of my mom-ish SUV.

What I am wondering is this: will I ever flip that switch that makes me find that type of music abhorrent? My musical ears are still 16 years old and it’s 1993 when 2 Live Crew’s Pop That Coochie has a COMPLETELY different meaning. (I mean, two 8 pound babies…talk about Pop That Coochie–sorry Mom).

When being a “big booty ho” doesn’t mean being 38 weeks pregnant, waddling around wearing elastic waisted pants.

I’m just curious what happens to make moms veer off the freeway of booty music to the rest stop of easy listening? Well, those of us that ever took that road anyway–some moms took the higher road from the get-go. I can’t remember my mom ever listening to Top 40 music, never mind anything remotely offensive. I guess my girls don’t know my secret either. I don’t intend for them to think I listen to anything other than church hymns in the car when they’re not around.

I guess that kind of music makes me think of my younger days, which is weird because I DEFINITELY
wasn’t allowed to listen to explicit music. And it’s not like I revel in offensive language and subject matter; sometimes the lyrics of some of the songs on my iPod even make me cringe. I just plain find it fun to listen to. Maybe it’s just a distraction from the everyday chaos of being a mom.

Really, if you think about it, being a mom to little people is sort of a Thug Life.

You sometimes gotta do whatever it takes to survive. “Ice cream for breakfast? Fine…just no more screeching until Daddy gets home.”

You gotta be a hustler. “Oh, you want Scooby Doo gummies? Well then, pick up those toys, Homey, or I’ll pop a cap in your ass.” (Just kidding. But don’t say you don’t sometimes secretly want to).

You gotta be hard. “No veggies, no treat, no negotiating.”

So in that case, thug music is appropriate. Maybe I should get Thug Life tattooed on my knuckles like Rihanna (yes, I read TMZ). I should probably sleep on that and not do anything drastic until my husband returns from his latest hunting trip and some rationality returns to my mind.

Anyhow, I won’t be camping out in front of any Ticketmaster outlets for my 2 Live Crew reunion tour tickets.

Not only because we have computers now and camp outs are totally unnecessary, but also because I’ve got my own Live Crew of 2 right here. And they’re “as nasty as they wanna be”…just a different kind of nasty.

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