Torture

I'm not sure how I did it, but I managed to marry a man (or should I say boy since we were barely 22??) whose birthday is on Christmas Eve.  He claims that the date has always been great for him.  As the baby of 5 children, with the others quite a bit older, he loved a birthday near Christmas since his sisters and brothers always made it home to celebrate with him.  However, as his wife and the mother of 4, I find his birthday overwhelming.  In fact, I vow every year to celebrate his day in June.  His "halvy birthday" if you will, just to give myself a break as I try to rack my brain for the perfect gift.  

This year Tim assured me that he really didn't need anything.  He'd just made a few major purchases and I didn't need to give him much.  I was really going along with the whole plan, until December 23rd when the Guilt began to come over me.  He is the ultimate gift giver and he manages to surprise me in some fashion every darn year.  Are you beginning to get an idea of the pressure I endure at Christmastime? I manage gifts for the kids AND I really need to find some sort of treat for my man, as well.  I decided to trek over to Knoxville for one last gift for Reed and while listening to the radio, I had a brainstorm.  We needed Satellite Radio.  I've attempted to give it to him before, but he always nips the idea before it has time to fully blossom in my mind.  This year, however, I hadn't mentioned it.  Therefore, the gift was really right there among my (not) lengthy list of gift choices.

He opened the carefully wrapped brochures and produced his wonderfully warm smile.  I really think he liked it!  I was thrilled that I had come up with yet another last minute surprise for him.  Well, a few weeks later, our satellite is hooked up and working and we are loving the variety it adds to our MANY car rides to Knoxville.  In fact, on our trip home from dinner the other night, all 6 of us sang "Livin' On A Prayer" in unison.  Thanks to Guitar Hero, our children know the lyrics, and Tim and I remember them from 20 years ago.

Variety, sing-alongs, laughs, and torture.  Yep.  That is what satellite radio really brings to this mama.  I have 2 children who are now old enough to join me in the front seat.  Caroline and I have very similar tastes in music.  She seems to be pretty agreeable to any choice I make and it's the same for me.  The torture rears it's ugly head when 11 year old Brooks is my passenger.  First of all, he likes to surf.  He finds a song he likes and continues to search for the next best choice.  Fiddling is distracting and annoying for this almost 40 year old.  Plus, he has a few friends who like what I consider to be "heavy rock"; therefore, Brooks is fully entranced with the sounds of the drums and yelling rather than singing. 

My patience is thin.  My ears are sensitive.  My heart is light.  I don't need head-banging in my life.  Tonight I reached my limit.  Some song was on that was popular when I was in high school came on the station he picked.  I didn't like it then and I certainly don't like it now.  I just had to tell it like it was... we are NOT listening to Boneyard while I am driving.  In fact, it was all I could do to refrain from switching right over to the elevator channel.  After all, that's what my parents did when I was a teenager.  They pretended to like elevator music everytime I was in the car.  I remember asking my dad if he really liked it or if he was just trying to make me suffer.  He said he did, but I suspect that my parents just needed the smooth tunes to keep their sanity.  Saving sanity... now that's a subject I am just beginning to understand.  Maybe Satellite has a channel that can help me save mine.