There Goes the Brainstem: Tales from the Trenches of Early Motherhood by Elizabeth Bonet, PhD - HTML preview

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Chapter 1: Music to my Ears

Let’s take a moment and sing the Sesame Street song. “Suuuun-ny day, sweeping the clouds away.” Heard in more than 120 countries, the words may be in Russian, Arabic or Zulu but the tune is always the same and so is the meaning. Free time for mom and dad.

Pre-parenthood, I never gave theme music a second listen. Barney was simply a huge phallic symbol appealing to children in the oedipal stage. Little did I know that he sings and dances. Little did I know that I would dance with him because little neurons in my brain would shoot off singing, “Free time! Free time is here.”

A lot of kids dream of becoming rock stars. Fans will fall at their feet, throwing panties and kisses at them. Little do they know that someday their musical inclinations will be applied by writing music for children’s shows. “Hey Mom, someday I’m going to write a catchy little tune that millions of toddlers will sing every day and carry into their adulthood.” It’s not your average “When I’m a Grown-up” dream.

Sesame Street still plays at our house, but it’s the theme songs of Dora the Explorer and Dragon Tales that make me dance with joy. My hips start moving. My feet tap. I do a little salsa with Dora and start singing. Both my daughter and I are smiling at the same time.

Being a psychologist, it has occurred to me that I’m classically conditioned. “Let’s all go to Dragon Land” is associated with 30 uninterrupted minutes to myself with no disasters from a running, climbing, crayon obsessed toddler in sight. I can check my email, get a start on a story, or even take a shower. Yes, Dragon Land is wonderful.

The music also lets me know exactly how much freedom I have left. The Dragon Tales “Get up and Dance” interludes that come on half way through the show get those kids moving, but also tell mom that only 15 precious minutes are left before her full attention is again required.

I set my clock by the songs that Dora the Explorer sings. “Backpack, Backpack” means they’re just packing up to start the adventure. No one has gone anywhere yet. “Come on, Vamanos” signals that they’re on their way. While my daughter is off rescuing baby leopards in the jungle, I’m surfing the net for the best deal on sneakers. The “You Did It” song after the adventure is complete warns that mother-daughter interaction is just over the next hill.

But it’s not just about me. Excitement overtakes my daughter as well. She runs to the television, lets out a gasp, yells out the name of her favorite show, and plops herself down about an inch from the television.

Knowing that my toddler is happy to see her show makes me happy too. I look forward to a cheerful child telling me about all the animals she rescued or the dragon berries she picked when we reconnect for our own real life adventures at the end of the show.

Maybe the reason we can all hum the Sesame Street theme on cue is because the entire household was happy during Sesame Street, Mom and Dad included. So those of you out there writing a new generation of theme songs, perhaps lamenting that you never reached stardom, please take my panties. Let me throw them at your feet. They’re yours to keep.

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