The Daughters and I decided to head to the big shopping mecca just south of us. Since it was a combined back-to-school slash Christmas shopping trip, I joked and said, "I wonder if 94.1 is playing Christmas music yet." Last year, they started playing it very early, and, as a result, I started listening to Christmas music very early. Sadly, they were not playing Christmas music; instead, they were playing 80s music. It's as if 94.1 were trying to make up for their lack of Christmas music.
I announced my intention of checking out Christmas music and punched the number 4 on my stereo. The GoGos were finishing telling us their vacation.
"Can we change the station?" Daughter 1 asked, probably rolling her eyes because she is, ya know, a tween and everything that is not, ya know, her idea is totally worthy of an eye roll. "I wanna listen to good music."
"No!" I cried, "This is good music!" Then, to hopefully make my excitement contagious, I squealed when Cutting Crew came on the radio, proclaiming themselves to be dead in my arms.
"I LOVE THIS SONG!" I cried and began belting out every single word.
Whoa ... I! I just died in your arms tonight. It must have been something you said. I just died in your arms tonight. It must have been some kind of kiss ...
And for the next four and a half minutes, I belted out every single word with the band, and not three seconds after the band as I do with most Taylor Swift songs.
"How do you know this song, Momma?" Daughter 2 asked from the back seat when I finished my vocal tribute to 1986.
"When I first started driving, I played this cassingle a million times over and over and over that summer!" I explained feeling, liked, totally awesome.
"So," she said with great thought, "You can remember words to old songs, but you can't remember how old I am?"
"I can too."
"How old am I?" she questioned. I could hear her eyes rolling.
"Momma," she said, "I am nine and a half years old."
Momma brain strikes again.