Five years later, Jennifer was born, and the children's music played on. And on. And on. Everything I listened to and watched for at least a decade was rated G. Whatever the kids wanted, I obliged. It never really occurred to me to listen to rock music, although when I was pregnant with the kids, I always put earphones to my belly and pumped in Pearl Jam, Van Halen, Mozart and Beethoven to expose them early. I do remember hearing, "Longview" once with the kids in the car, and my "mommy arm" over-extended faster than a lightning flash to grab the volume control to turn down the "bad" words.
Things changed slowly when Ian started kindergarten. Suddenly I had only one child at home, and often, Jennifer fell asleep in her car seat to various "Disney Princess" tunes. I mostly listened to the Jewish-motherly advice of Dr. Laura, as her show seemed to resonate with my own values at the time. Flash-forward to 2005, with a now-10 year-old and 6-year old, who had grown annoyed with "baby" music. I was sooo thankful, because to this day, Tim and I STILL know all the words to the "I Love You" song sung by the purple dinosaur himself.
*******
It was during this period of my mommy-hood that for the first time, I had two kids in school full-time. I was lost at first, didn't know WHAT to do with myself all day. It's funny how when your kids are babies, you fantasize about this over and over during those awful all-nighters, the sick days, the long bouts of crying (the babies' as well). The last person I wanted to listen to was Dr. Laura--this was MY time and kid-friendly shows were off-limits! I was lucky I didn't have to work--my wonderful husband Tim worked so I could stay home with the kids. Here was my reward for 10 years with no day off---weekdays to myself, from 8 am to 3 pm. What was my role now? Who was I without children clinging to me all day long? My life revolved primarily around them. I volunteered at their school, and I was there as much as they were. I was probably a little frumpy, and I know I wasn't into running then. I think I'd pretty much put myself on the back burner, as many moms do. But I relished uninterrupted hot showers, the occasional lunch or Starbucks with a friend, along with the laundry and housecleaning and grocery shopping. No one knocked on my bathroom door yelling, "MOMMY!!" It was phenomenally freeing.
Not having children in the car for a few hours a day was like serendipity. I could listen to all the bad words I wanted to! Yay! I didn't have to explain myself, I didn't have to talk to anyone. I could just sing along to whatever station I wanted to listen to. No mommy guilt. It felt weird. It felt good. It was during this time that I was driving alone, probably running mommy errands, when a song came on that made me stop and pay attention. The haunting guitar chords and sexy-voiced male lead beckoned to me. I had goosebumps. My heart was pounding as if I'd had a religious experience. Much like love-at-first-sight. "My shadow's the only one that walks beside me, my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating, sometimes I wish someone out there will find me, till then I walk alone...." I had tingles.. When the song ended, I gripped the steering wheel, praying the DJ would say the name of the song and band. Sure enough, he did. It was "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by, yes, Green Day. I felt a little ashamed I didn't recognize the band, but hey, 10 years of "Barney" and "Mickey Mouse" convoluted my musical perspective.
I had to have the album, "American Idiot". I immediately drove to Best Buy and bought two copies, a CD for me and one for Tim, so he could listen to it driving back and forth to work. Somehow, it spoke to us. I listened to it beginning to end, straight through, never stopping. I listened intently to each song, one after another, the way a mother listens to her new baby breathe--you're so mesmerized you can't pull yourself away. "Wake Me When September Ends" gave me more goosebumps and I KNEW it was going to be a huge hit post-9/11. Song after song, somehow, it spoke to me. "Jesus of Suburbia" was mind-blowing. Sometimes it takes a little kick in the behind to jolt us out of our stupor, even if it's a happy stupor. I didn't realize something was missing from my life, but the song slapped me in the face and woke up something inside of me.
The most fun part of my transformation was that it was happening to Tim, too.
*******I don't remember how it happened, but before I knew it, Tim and I had tattoos. We started dressing differently. We felt younger, we looked younger, and we felt more in love than ever. I bought Tim an electric guitar for Father's Day, as I'd remembered he was in a band in high school. He relished it, and I encouraged him to join a band to "blow off steam" from the stress of his job. I started walking, then running, and I dropped 20 pounds I didn't realize I'd gained. I got a new hairstylist and cut and colored my hair shades of purple and pink. We felt alive and happy, and thankfully, our kids loved the changes in us. I was still the devoted mom, and Tim the busy executive, but something exciting was happening.
Tim got us 11th row seats to see Green Day when they came to Fresno. We've been to a hundred concerts, but this one was like none other. To see Billie Joe Armstrong and his two best friends, in the flesh, for over 3 hours, I felt like I'd been baptized. It was a magical night, one I'll never forget. (Tim even got us Meet-and-Greet backstage passes, but Billie Joe didn't show; the drummer Tre Cool did but we couldn't get near him. Damn!) We weren't alone in our passion for this record album. It has sold 14 million copies world-wide, and subsequently won nearly 25 awards, ranging from best album, to best singles ("American Idiot", "Boulevard of Broken Dreams", "When September Ends"), to best rock band. Clearly, the Oakland-based trio touched a nerve in our collective consciousness.
*******
The lead singer of Tim's band couldn't make it to practice one night, and the bass player asked me to sit in for him since I knew all the songs. Without the pressure of being an actual band member, I hammed it up and belted out the songs as if it were Karaoke night at the local tavern. The band was so impressed with me, we actually formed a new band with me as lead singer! And for the next year and a half, we performed many times in local clubs and even recorded a demo CD. Every performance was an opportunity to honor my hero's music. How lucky was I to be singing Green Day's music?! It was always thrilling to stand up there and cover their songs. In all, we sing about 20, and Tim's always working on more.
Never having been to a Broadway play, and never having been to New York City, I really didn't know what to expect from "American Idiot" the play. My wonderful husband of nearly 17 years surprised me with 3rd row orchestra seats as my 50th birthday present! I screamed even louder when he told me Billie Joe was in it as the character, "St. Jimmy". To say I was excited would be an extreme understatement.
The St. James Theatre on Broadway is a beautiful theater, with balcony seating and deep plush plum seats; much like you'd expect. One huge difference was the crowd. Many were young people, dressed in skinny jeans and studded belts and multi-colored hair and piercings. Many were your average middle-aged Mom and Brad. It was a packed house.
From where we were sitting, it turned out that Billie Joe spent much of his time onstage literally 15 feet away. He was so close, but I couldn't take a picture of him! (NOT allowed. I got yelled at for taking pictures of the theater before the curtain even went up. I didn't want to chance getting thrown out.....or did I? It was a hard decision...) He looked like Beetlejuice, his long hair gelled standing straight up. He had on his famous black jeans and studded belt and chains; a black T-shirt with a white suitcoat with black hanky in the front pocket. He was thin and good-looking, and belted out the songs while acting out the role of St. Jimmy, a kind of devil-on-your-shoulder character to the lead role of Johnny played by John Gallagher, Jr., an amazing talent who sang lead to most of the Green Day album with as much snark and snarl and tenderness as Billie did on the album. The whole cast sang along to various songs; it was a collaborative effort of dancing and singing the album straight through, just as I had listened to it that very day I brought it home with me from Best Buy. Tim and I were blown away.
Watching the actors and listening to the words of the songs I know so well, I was aware that I was learning what "American Idiot" meant to my hero, Billie Joe Armstrong. Those were words he'd written, music he'd written, painstakingly and lovingly created by that five-foot-nine man standing right there. The chords and melodies and words that cried out to me were his, and the play was basically his heart, outside of his body. "American Idiot" is a complicated story of a young man who is trying to find himself amidst the chaos of 9/11 and the war in Iraq. He uses drugs to numb the pain. He falls in love; she gives him an ultimatum. He sees his best friends go off to war, one loses his leg. He tries to conform, but where is the meaning in it all? The play exposes not only Billie Joe's contempt for our governments' reaction to 9/11 but our own.
As the character Johnny stumbles and finds his way, I realize that we all have our own journey of self-discovery. We all have our own story to tell. We all were once idealistic teenagers, and some of us conformed and became good citizens, while suppressing our rage at the same time for the establishment. Many of us are lucky to have found a balance between being wicked and being good, and being happy.
We can't just sit around and party forever--sooner or later we all have to grow up and be functional members of society. The people we hang around with help us achieve our goals or get in the way; we all have tough choices to make.
Green Day took their record and in transforming it into a play, it became a better version of itself. Just like the album did for me. Thank you, Billie Joe, and thank you my dear Timmy. I will be forever grateful.
