ad sense

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Ode to Joy: Observations of a 43 year old Teenage Girl

Oh, Justin Bieber.  Oh, you.  You are somethin' else, kid. 

I'm blasting Baby, Baby, Baby, oh from my Ipod and basking in the glow of happy this morning after spending a few plus hours with Mrs. R., her daughters and thousands of girlies last night at the Justin Bieber concert in Washington DC.  Lots going on here in the nation's capital this morning.  Lots of angst, lots of hand-wringing, lots of accusing, lots of fear, lots of worry.

Let me tell you what I like better than that:  lots of joy, lots of thrill, lots of glee, loads of smiles and screams and jumping up and down, hands in the air, waving like you just don't care.  Y'all, it was positively EUPHORIC.  And I loved it.

Yes, the inner adult in me could've said, "Oh, girls.  This isn't real.  He's just a boy, like all the others.  He isn't singing to you, honey.  You're my one love, my one heart, my one life for sure?  Sweeties, he's 18 years old.  Always makin' time for you?   Probably not, darlin'."

But, just for awhile, Mrs. R. and I kept the wise, mature women inside.  Instead, we giggled and smiled and danced and sang and soaked in the girls' bliss. 

Well, except for when we leaned into each other and whispered these 40ish year old mommy thoughts:

"Seriously, how does he function in those pants?"  and

"Do you really think he sits by the fire and eats fondue?" and 

"Bless your heart, Jayden Smith, but you ain't no Fresh Prince . . . not yet." and

"Oh my word, that giant crane spinning him around while he plays that guitar is stressing me out.  I hope he hangs on.  Please don't throw up, Justin."

Most of the time, we just let the joy float around us.  We watched all the girls become the one less lonely girl.  We let them imagine that he doesn't need all these pretty faces like he needs you.  We let them believe that boyfriend, boyfriend, he could be your boyfriend and never let you go.  We took in the purple and the sequins and the angel wings and the big screens and the fireworks and Justin telling us that no matter what happens, you just gotta believe, gals, and it's going to be okay.  You know, swaggy and such.

And now, I gotta turn down the I'll be your silver, I'll be your platinum, I'll be your gold and release my inner 13 year old.  I have to turn into a responsible  43 year old citizen of our great country.  I have to just take a deep breath, vote and smile at people.  Justin told me last night that no matter what I was going through, everything was going to turn out just fine and then he danced like nobody's business and did not throw up while spinning around on that crane thing.  I mean, at least for today, I'm gonna believe that kid.  He closes his eyes and he can see a better day.  He closes his eyes and prays. 

You know what? I'm down with that for today. You smile, we smile, Justin. Thanks for the show, buddy. You certainly can deal out the happy, son.

Thanks also to Little Miss A and Little Miss I for letting me capture the joy. 

No comments: