I wanna be a rock star!

Diary of a Mama


All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother. ~Abraham Lincoln



I want to be a Rock Star! It is of no surprise to me that my youngest would one day recite those very words. When your middle name is Hendrix it is your destiny, right? Well, sort of, he has also wanted to be a Motor cross racer, a professional ball player, and a Power Ranger. Who really knows what he will do for a living. But I do know it won’t be a rocket scientist. That I am sure of.



My second child is a fashion forward one. He has to “look the part” or it just isn’t working for him. “Mama, I am gonna have a band! Can we go to the store and get?” Now, my son began to present me with his list of provisions that he would need to accomplish his DREAM. Hair spray, black nail polish, a case of Rockstar, a wallet with a chain, a black scarf, and a pair of slightly worn cowboy boots. Watch out Brett Michael, my son is reviving the hair bands! Just what a Mother needs a 7 year old jacked off of an energy drink. And a wallet with a chain? Isn’t that a redneck? You know the joke, if your WALLET and your DOG are both on a chainyou must be a REDNECK. Well for some reason in his world rockers wear them too. At that moment I flashed forward and saw my son with multiple body peircings, sporting tattoos of I love Mom and OZZY on his fingers.



For Christmas, he received his very own electric guitar, and soon he was amplified to the MAX. Strumming to his own melodies, and belting out creative lyrics. His sound stage...MY COFFEE TABLE. His audience? Mama and Daddy. His one hit entitled Sharks Sleeping, streaming from his too sweet to be a rock star, little boy voice. Every night for weeks we could expect an encore performance. Each time he had new moves. To be honest, his moves resembled interpretive dancing and a hint of the occasional gang sign flash.



For now the dream of glam rocking it in front of millions has faded. I am sure it will peak again. We haven’t even left elementary yet. At least I know, he will be prepared with the right equipment, when he and his gang turn my garage into a hip suburban hangout. I, as his mother look forward to the next obsession. My children keep me guessing. My children keep me young. One of these times He will find the perfect match for him. Until he does I will continue to feed his little ego. Who knows maybe, just maybe, he might be a Rock star!









kizzez, huggz n luvz