Listening to the radio tonight Miranda Lambert’s song, Mama’s Broken Heart came on and got me thinking about how I was raised cause expected to present myself was strikingly called out in some of the song’s lyrics:
Don’t matter how you feel, it only matters how you look
Go and fix your make up girl it’s, just a break up run an’
Hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady ’cause I
Raised you better, gotta keep it together even when you fall apart
A few years ago when I moved out-of-state it was the first time in my adult life I had lived more that 25 miles from my parents. It was hard at first, I was used to seeing them every day and eating as a family with them many nights a week.
Powder your nose, paint your toes line your lips and keep ’em closed
Cross your legs, dot your I’s and never let ’em see you cry
Go and fix your make up well it’s, just a break up run an’
Hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady
On a Saturday after a long day of yard work I texted a few neighbors and we all gathered at twilight around a bon fire, each family bringing food and beverages to share. We sat late into the night listening to music, talking, and laughing while the kids ran in and out of the fire light playing. The next morning as I cleaned the backyard I realized I never would have had friends over like that when I lived under my parents shadow.
My mama’s phone started ringin’ off the hook
I can hear her now sayin’ she ain’t gonna have it
And I realized I had changed. I had let go of caring about what car I drove, who I golfed with, who sat with who at the dinner club on Friday night, and most certainly stopped worrying about what my parents would think or feel about was I was doing.
When the fire trucks show up and there’s nobody else to blame
Can’t get revenge and keep a spotless reputation
Sometimes revenge is a choice you gotta make
And don’t get me wrong, I’m not languishing on the couch of some head doctors office blaming my parents for the way my life has turned out, my problems, or my successes.
My mama came from a softer generation
Where you get a grip and bite your lip just to save a little face
And I haven’t always made the greatest choices either.
I cut my bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors
I screamed his name til the neighbors called the cops
I numbed the pain at the expense of my liver
Don’t know what I did next all I know, I couldn’t stop
Three things that I know for sure:
1.Never say never
2. Things have a way of working out when you do the right thing
I wish I could be just a little less dramatic like a,
Kennedy when Camelot went down in flames
3. Happiness is a choice