Snoopy

I used to babysit for this one family every week growing up. They have this beautiful family, and I was the lucky one that got to watch their children grow up.

But this is not a story about them.

This is a cautionary tale about babysitters. So parents current and future, pay attention.

If you've never had to babysit...well, you're either an only child, a man, or have parents that provided for you very well. I learned many life lessons from babysitting. Some I wish I didn't have to learn on someone else's kids, but nonetheless I'm better off for it. Nobody died or ended up in the E.R., so I feel like it was a win for everyone.

Anyway, one of life's lessons you learn whilst babysitting is that after you follow the detailed directions of getting the kids in bed (and more than likely fudging on some of the detailed directions because the kids give you doe eyes and you're 12 years old), you're left with a house all to yourself.

Now, this is NOT a 2015 house with fancy space tv's and gadgets. You do not have parents that have lost their minds and plopped a iPhone 6 in your hands just because they want to "keep tabs on you." This is a house that has basic cable on a single tv, and a cd/tape player. And parents, babysitters are snoopy. Not too snoopy...but like, go through your cd collection, get into your pantry, see where your "adult" movies are that your kids aren't tall enough to reach yet (we're talking anything more than PG), rifle through your coupons on the counter kid of snoopy. Harmless.

I was that snoopy babysitter. I got into the cd collection.

And this, my friends, is how I fell in love with Tim McGraw. And in turn...country music.

Quite specifically, this song.



I mean, how can you not love that man. YeeOWW!

And I entered country music at the perfect time. This is when Tim, Kenny, Brad, Faith, Martina, Keith Urban, Shania, Lonestar, and King George were ruling country music. I remember listening to the radio with my blank tapes in the player and my finger on the record button...just waiting all day for that ONE song to play so I could have it forever.

I was born before iTunes kids. We had to go to extreme measures.

And then country music morphed. It turned into something I hadn't fallen in love with initially. It quickly turned into Taylor Swift (the later years) and Brantley Gilbert. Now, I love me some Swift...don't get me wrong. And while she started off country, she quickly moved on. And let's face it. Brantley wants to be a rock star but can't cut it. So he tortures us with his "music" and calls it country.

In the midst of this morphing and redefining of country music, I took a detour into a land called...everything else. I learned that I was limiting myself to just country music. There's this genre called pop rock that is probably more favorite than country. When I leave a Parachute concert with my ears ringing, or when Ben Rector puts in words what I'm feeling...pop rock is just what I need. Big band speaks to my bones and muscles, especially with a smokey voice like Buble. Indie pop is out of the ordinary and hits my shoulders just right.

This detour has lasted many moons. Now I haven't excluded country by any means. I'll dabble in it from time to time. I went to Tim at USANA 2 years ago. He was a bucket list concert and it was one of the best concerts ever. But I haven't been strongly drawn to country in years in the way where when I'm scrolling through radio stations I'll purposely stop on The Bull or KSOP and stay there.

But I guess when you are converted at 12 years old by Tim, your soul is country. And the person that is bringing me back is Luke. All these people in my life keep talking about this guy. And his new album is pretty great.




My detour is permanent. I will never again only listen to country. I'm not that girl anymore. I will always need that pop rock for my happy place, and the real rock for my angry moments. I'll need the big band to just chill.

But when I just need to be, you better believe I'll throw on my Tim Mcgraw Pandora radio station and remember where my roots are.

So parents, when you're bringing a babysitter over to watch your precious ones...be smart about the kinds of music you leave around. Invest in a small iPod and load it with your classics, and if you do it right...maybe someone will be writing a blog about you 10-15 years in the future. No pressure.

xoxo, A