We spent the weekend in a cabin. At bedtime, my son’s singing, “VIRGIN! Virgin virgin virgin EMERGENCY!”
“WHAT are you SINGING?!” I said, totally baffled, as that sinking feeling of “What am I going to deal with now?” settled into the pit of my stomach that parents know well.
“It’s a song on the radio station he listens to in his bedroom”, daughter replied. “WHAT are you LISTENING to?!” The sinking feeling grew worse, as I realized what a terrible, inattentive mother I am.
So he sings it again. “I’ve got a virgin virgin virgin EMERGENCY!”
After awhile, my husband (who’s amazing at Name that Tune) says “…URGENT?! By Foreigner?”
My son goes on to say “WELL I DON’T KNOW! The only other place I’ve heard that word is on Hocus Pocus (The Bette Middler Disney Halloween classic that I make my family watch every year, virgins & yabos aside). He puts on a creepy, dark voice, “‘A virgin will light the black flame candle!’ I don’t know why they’re singing about unmarried women on the radio.”
I don’t REMEMBER telling him that’s what “virgin” means, but I’m going to let it ride for now. 😉
First thing when we got home, I played him the song & corrected his understanding of the lyrics.
My son will no longer be singing that he has a virgin emergency. I will however be laughing for a really long time.
I’m a funny mix of agnostic irreverence & strict adherence to tradition. “These are the things we do because they give us ROOTS.”
So on our wedding day, we did the traditional “Something old, something new.”
My something old was a lovely hematite necklace my grandfather had bought my grandmother many decades ago.
My something new was my wedding dress, made by hand by my very own mother.
My something borrowed was a lipstick from my maid-of-honor, when mine looked terrible in photos.
My something blue was the aquamarine tennis bracelet, a gift from my husband, in my daughter’s birthstone.
When my son was born, we didn’t live in the town the hospital was in & my husband was working 13-hour shifts.
In order to see us at night, he slept on a terrible cot on the floor, up against the wall in my hospital room.
When I was sleeping, the RNs would fairy my infant son out of my arms & into the bassinet next to my bed.
One shift change, I woke up to see 3 RNS & a nursing assistant standing in the door of my room, looking dreamy & giggling.
You know that sweet little peeping sounds infants make in their sleep? My son was singing a whole song of those little peeps.
But that’s not what was making those seasoned nurses giggle.
My husband was making the same sounds, as he does, in his sleep, completing the chorus.
They were completely enamored with my two men talking to each other, through their dreams.
But they weren’t as enamored as I was.
I don’t have many memories that warm me to the core like the memory of our first night with our son, my husband on a cot on the floor, a gaggle of old labor & delivery nurses mooning at us in our sleep.