When I was little I used to shut myself in our half-bathroom in the evening, adjust my Holly Hobbie nightgown, brush the Dorothy Hamill wedge off of my face (no, children of the 90’s…this is NOT a salad), look in the mirror, then press “record” on my cassette tape recorder. I had a microphone. I was awesome.

I had a particular fondness for singing “Rhinestone Cowboy” and “Evergreen” by Barbra Streisand. Love, soft as an easy chair…

I’m sure that my family was happy when I hit the ripe old age of eight and moved on to Pat Benatar’s “Heartbreaker”, though even as I matured I never lost my love of Roger Miller’s “King of the Road”.

My son has recently discovered that our iPad stores my iTunes. The only time I get to use the iPad is when I go out of town, which is also the only time I get to listen to music without a small person making me pause it over and over while they ask, “Maaaahhm, what can I dooooooo?”

Among my musical offerings, my son found Journey (tips cowgirl hat to The Pioneer Woman), Justin Timberlake, Pearl Jam and the completely inappropriate-lyric-filled songs of the Black Eyed Peas.

Guess which group he liked the best?

It turned out that “Boom Boom Pow” garnered the attention of my nine year old boy much more than any other tune and because there are a couple of choice words in between the booming and the powing, I had to turn where no parent should ever have to turn.

Kidz Bop.

Now, I have heard a lot of painful noises in my life. The sound of crashing metal, the crying of my son during IV placements and the terror-filled screams of my daughter when she witnessed her brother’s fingertip chopped off in a door-slamming accident.

None of those compare to Kidz Bop. Trust me, I know. My daughter has 16 Kidz Bop CD’s.

Long before she was an eye-rolling 12 year old whose favorite words are, “Oh my gosh, Mom!”, she was a sweet, little girl who listened to music that made my ears bleed. Because some songs just aren’t bad enough on their own and need a chorus of children to mutilate them further.

If you’re lucky enough to have never listened to Kidz Bop, just imagine that you’re driving a carload of pre-teens, who have just licked the icing off of 12 cupcakes each and they all start singing. Loudly.

You know how the judges on American Idol always call people “pitchy”? Yeah, that. Times however many Kidz Bop kidz they can fit into a studio at once. Which, I think, then are referred to as a gaggle. A gaggle of kidz. Bopping.

Don’t let my distaste of this music be any indication of its sales ability. Billboard claims that Kidz Bop 18 was the #1 selling kids album of 2010, Kidz Bop 17 was #2 and Kidz Bop 16 was 10th. Clearly, kids really like it. Either that, or they hate their parents.

I can get behind the concept of having a gaggle of boppers singing contemporary music so that young children can understand the lyrics or can hear songs that would, otherwise, be inappropriate. The concept, yes. That I support.

But, in actuality, the only thing that’s good about Kidz Bop music is that it can be listened to with headphones.

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For nearly four years, I have chronicled my son’s blatant honesty in this space. I never thought I would say what I am about to say.

He’s been lying a lot.

Of course, he doesn’t hide the truth when it comes to telling someone that their forehead is greasy, or that their hands are wrinkly or that his 53 year old therapist must be “younger than mommy because she is smaller”. That one was a double whammy.

No, he’s been lying about whether or not he got toothpaste on the counter, his socks were put down the laundry chute or if he put the skateboard away. These are things for which he wouldn’t be punished, yet he lies about them nonetheless.

These untruths are spoken despite the fact that we have a steadfast rule. You will not get punished if you tell the truth.

The other day I sat him down and said, “Enough! I have taken away your video games, the TV and your controllable car. I have sent you to bed early and denied you dessert. You need to understand that you have to tell the truth! It is important and this is final, buddy. WE DO NOT LIE IN THIS HOUSE!”

Then he looked up at me and asked, “So, can I go outside and lie?”

Make sure you stop by my review page where I’m giving away a $100 gift card to Best Buy courtesy of BlogHer and sponsored by Samsung and a $100 gift card to Dick’s Sporting Goods courtesy of BlogHer and sponsored by Gatorade.  Leave a comment on the individual posts for a chance to win. It’s that simple! And, I’m not lying!

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Some of the most embarrassing moments with my son have taken place at cash registers.  As if it isn’t bad enough to fork over $75 at Target when all you wanted was a roll of paper towels, try having your son tell the cashier that she looks like “kind of a girl” or that her big lips make her resemble a fish.

This would be why, a couple of weeks ago, my 12 year old daughter was a quick-thinker and pulled her little brother out of the grocery store line.  I had no idea what she was doing, until I stopped removing items from my cart, looked at the cashier and noticed he was wearing an eye patch.  Clearly, that guy was going to get called “a pirate”.

But, when we approached the register at the grocery store yesterday I didn’t see anything that might cause him to make a comment.  I was proactive and chose a cashier who was nice looking, clean and without blemishes.

And, of course, it backfired.

My son spied the young, blond-haired girl scanning our items and said, “Ohhhh, you’re pretty!”

She smiled as he gave her his shy look and smiled back.

Then his shy look disappeared and his expression became one of excitement as he looked over her shoulder, pointed to a different cashier and said, “Wait.  Actually, that girl over there is the pretty one!”

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My son celebrated his First Communion last weekend.  A dear man, who happens to be my former co-worker as the maintenance man at my kids’ school and who also happens to be one of my son’s best friends, sent him a card of congratulations.

Yesterday morning this dear man stopped by the school and was sipping coffee with the school secretary when my son and I made a trip to the office because of an upset stomach (my son’s, not mine).

We were both excited to see our old friend and my son ran to him and gave him a big hug.  Then he said, “Thank you for the card and the $20!”

Our friend said, “You’re welcome!”

Then my son said, “But, somebody else gave me $50!”

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