In hopes of getting her and Dad’s Florida-based selves relocated within spoiling distance of cherished only-grandchildren, my Mom’s been shacking up in the super-deluxe basement luxury suite (because nothing says “well appointed” like a utility sink) for a good six months, job hunting and nuzzling babies and cheerfully enduring our little experiment in multi-generational living.
Which means she’s also been relentlessly subjected to our “lifestyle”: from the TiVo season passes to the Netflix queues to what’s for dinner and whoever’s stopping by to butcher some vocals on “Karaoke Revolution,” Grammy’s become an unintended hostage to our pop-culture preferences.
And no place more so than in the car, trapped in the passenger seat, a powerless aural victim to our satellite station mandate-of-the-moment. And who knows why, but for some reason I never expected her to pay attention to these songs, let alone to memorize lyrics and melody.
So where along the way did grandmother’s lullabies turn into Grammy featuring Timbaland?
I mean, who could blame her, the shit is THAT catchy and infectious, and by contrast “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” is total musical Valium. And anyway, of COURSE I’d want my Momz singing to her Seattle chitlins about the importance of an umbrella-ELLA-ELLA, and that Feist number is obviously teaching Eliot to count, but this morning I learned we might be needing to place some content controls on Grammy’s set list.
Because when Mike and I caught up on “The Soup” with the girl-childs, Joel McHale aired a clip of “I Know My Kid’s a Star,” which we’ve never watched but is obviously odious (and yes Mike there ARE a few wildly craptastic reality shows I don’t TiVo, and until you kick that inexplicable “Biggest Loser” habit my pot remains profoundly deaf to your kettle). In a nutshell, this is a show about stage mothers and their stage spawn and how they will do ANY.THING. to be the next Hannah Montana or Jonas Brother or Pussycat Doll, with Danny Bonaduce acting as host, tour guide and creepy spectre of too-early fame.
Danny: “So guys, this is where former child-actor River Phoenix had his drug overdose and DIED. Still wanna be famous?” (Bus-full of wide-eyed smiles and nods, precocious emoting a la just having received a Golden Ticket).
Danny: “And this club? This is where child-star Drew Barrymore took her first drink… at 13 years old. And do you know where she was at 14, kids? Can you say ‘rehab’?”
At which Ellie turns to the TV and sings, “NOOOH-no-no!”
Yeah, Grammy, you are SO BUSTED.