My dad, the rocker.

My dad is a self-proclaimed "rocker". He loves his music. It's mostly of the classic rock and '80s power ballad variety... although the Celtic Women sneak in there from time to time. I think one of the happiest days of his life was when he learned how to use an ipod, and the second happiest day was when he learned how to connect it to his stereo in his truck.

When we were growing up, every night after dinner my dad would plug in the boom box in the kitchen and blast his favorite jams while doing the dishes. And, if you were lucky enough to be driving by our house, you might just catch a glimpse of my dad air guitaring through the kitchen window. Some of the regular tapes and CDs were The Doors, Reo Speedwagon, ACDC, Queen, Richard Marx, Boston, Journey, Aerosmith, Foreigner, and Pink Floyd. Thanks to my dad, me and my sisters now call most of these artists' songs: "dishes songs". A lot of the time we were annoyed to have the kitchen and living room taken over by dad's rocking out, but I think we all had a little extra grace since he was also doing the dishes. Less grace though when on the occassional Saturday morning, my dad found a little extra joy in playing this one as loud as possible to wake us up when we were sleeping in too late.

This is one of my favorite things about my dad. I love how much he loves music. I love how he can tell you where he was when he first heard a song or how he remembers exactly what year it came out. I love how any remake of one of his favorites is a inherently a cheap comparison. I love how he loves to share his favorite songs with anyone who will listen.

I've been on maternity leave now for five weeks. I am so grateful to have this time to spend with Aaron and it's been wonderful to start learning how to be a mom. It's also been pretty tough. Beyond the normal toughness of not sleeping, changing a million diapers, life and family adjustments, etc., as an antsy extrovert, I've just had hard time being stuck inside all day talking to no one who will respond to me with words. 

At the end of my first week being home with Aaron by myself, I had cabin fever pretty bad. It was a rare February day with warmer weather and a lot of sunshine. Our dog had a vet appointment, so I very quickly volunteered to be the one to take her, just to have a reason to leave the house. On the way there and back I turned up the music as loud as I could handle just because there was no sleeping baby in the car and because I could. And it bought me so much joy. For twenty minutes in the car, blasting some music, there was this tiny bit of freedom that I realized will come in shorter supply for the next 18+ years. 

I thought of my dad and wondered if that's what it feels like to him. Dad, is that what it's like? Am I turning into a rocker? Maybe I'll also start doing the dishes more?