an honorable woman

I'm finding myself becoming more and more of a prude.  It all started when Katelyn was born.  I was presented with a fresh-from-creation human being and an absolute specimen of perfection.  And, in that instant, I was also handed the responsibility of training her to become a righteous, responsible, happy, and well rounded adult.  All at the noble and wise age of twenty five.

As the days and week and months have rolled on, I find myself experiencing more and more of my world through her eyes and ears.  Instead of just listening to whatever is being broadcast on the radio or watching whatever airs on TV, I am tuning into the bigger message in case Kate sees or hears because, let me tell you, Kate sees and hears everything.

A few months ago, I was driving in my car and listening to the radio and a song came on that I had heard many times.  It wasn't a song that I particularly liked so I had never listened to it intently.  I didn't know what the words were and I never thought it mattered.  I mean, I wasn't really tuning in.

But, for some reason, this time I did.  And my ears perked up right as he said, From the top of the pole, I watch her go down.  She got me throwing my money around.  Ain't nothing more beautiful to be found.

And it was as if I had to stabilize myself from swerving off the road.  Mr. Flo Rida was talking about a stripper!  WITHIN EARSHOT OF MY BRAND NEW PERFECT PERSON!

So, now I listen for these things and I'm finding that I have to switch the radio station a lot.  Mostly, I just listen to NPR.

Really though, I've always kind of been a prude.  I've always tried to keep the muck of the world out of my car, my home, and my universe.

Apparently, not enough.

I love the movie Hook and that line where the little girl turns to Captain Hook and yells, "You need a mother very, very badly."  I mention that because that is what I would like to say to Mr. Flo Rida, and Mr. Robin Thicke, and Mr. Macklemore.

And don't even get me started on Master Bieber.

Stop telling my child and future children that it is okay to smoke enough marijuana to necessitate pilot gas masks.  That is unacceptable behavior!

It's not just the radio either.  Tonight, Dave and I were watching the Olympics.  Let me repeat it for emphasis.  THE OLYMPICS!  There should be no complaints about the Olympics, right?  Well, buckle up because during a commercial break, I saw my least favorite ad of all time.  It is for the Cosmopolitan casino in Las Vegas and basically consists of a series of words and pictures in the classic brainwashing style that say things like "Fight right" and "Wild gets laid" and "Normal is boring."  Dave and I looked at each other with open jaws and couldn't believe the audacity of evil.

And suddenly, part of me felt stupid.  I imagined us not as young twenty somethings just starting our family.  I saw us as an old curmudgeonly couple with reading glasses perched on our noses and permanent downward frowns on our faces.  Our fingers were arthritic from years of wagging at the youth of "these days" and we didn't know how to use our "newfangled" phones.  I was working on knitting some beastly looking sweater and Dave was only half watching the TV from behind a giant newspaper that nobody buys anymore because we all have computers.  And we smelled like old cough drops.

And that's the problem with our society.  Expressing shock and horror at a shocking and horrifying commercial is associated with an "inability to tolerate" or being "behind the times."  It is something to be embarrassed about and a sentiment to hide from everybody else.  Being a prude is so not cool.

Well, I'm not having it.  I'm a prude and I don't care who knows it.  In fact, I want everybody to know it.  Please help me guard my children from songs about stripper poles and commercials about casual sex.  I worry it's going to take more than just Dave and me to help them see the good in the world.  Please don't be afraid to be a prude with me.  We can even call it something else like, "Really Great Person Who Wants to Make Our Society a Little Better."  I mean, I guess that name is kind of long so I'm open to suggestions.  Or here's an idea.  The term prude originates from French meaning an "honorable woman."  How about that?

Anyway, my point is, I'm a prude and I'm fine with it.

The end.  Rant over.  For now.