Random Thoughts of a Little Monster Mom

I have no musical talent of my own (just ask anyone who’s ever heard me sing), yet I’ve always felt that my life has its own soundtrack.  Almost all of my clearest and most heartfelt memories are connected with music in some way. The Beatles, John Lennon, Elvis, Barbra Streisand…they’re all my mother.  I hear Barbra’s version of “The Lord’s Prayer”, Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, or The Beatles’ “Let It Be”, and I’m back in my childhood bedroom, tucked under the covers with my nightlight on and Mom singing me to sleep.  I hear Ringo singing “Octopus’s Garden”, and Mom and I are cleaning the house on a Saturday, and I’m running around in circles in our living room, listening to the album on our huge 1970’s console stereo and laughing at the bubble sounds in the background.  I hear “Give Peace a Chance” and I’m playing hide-and-seek, huddled among the clothes hanging up in Mom’s bedroom closet, staring at the poster of John that she’d tacked up on the wall as if she was embar

"I just wanna be myself and I want you to l ove m e for who I am..." I have to admit, the first time (or first few times) I listened to the song "Hair", I didn't really care for it.  It wasn't so much the sound of the song that turned me off as what I thought was the message behind it--that looks were all that mattered, and you should change them in order to be accepted.  It seemed so much the opposite of everything I had tried for years to un-learn for myself and what I was trying to teach my daughter.  But I was a brand new Lady Gaga fan at that time, and I hadn't yet learned about the difficult experiences she'd had with being bullied in school.  I hadn't yet realized how easy it would be to relate to her and that song. By the time I was in sixth grade (about 12 years old, roughly the same age as Mini Monster is now), I was already painfully aware of the fact that I was not what anyone--except perhaps my own family--would consider beautifu

I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.  It was only supposed to be the one time.  Just one.  Well, OK...not one  time , but one  song .  But it turns out that song was some kind of gateway drug, and it got me hooked.  I had to have more.  And more.  And more.  Now here I am, sitting in front of my computer wondering what the hell has happened to me. Hello, my name is Kim, and I am a Little Monster.  I can’t get enough of Lady Gaga. I haven’t listened to any of my other music playlists for months; I haven’t even wanted to.  I belong to two fan groups and follow countless Lady Gaga-related accounts on social media.  I have pictures of Lady Gaga on my phone, although I haven’t yet reached the point of having Gaga set as my wallpaper, lock screen, or any of her songs as my ringtone.  (Don’t be too impressed, though.  That’s only because I’m too indecisive to narrow them down to one or two, and I don’t want to have to keep changing them.)  I can’t say I’d win any Lady Gaga triv