I’m probably not winning any Christian parenting awards. This year my husband, Alex, and I skipped Easter and flew to Vegas to see Aerosmith. In my defense, it was an accident. Half a year ago when I was booking the tickets, I deliberately avoided spring break and my son’s birthday but I didn’t realize Easter was so late this year and accidentally booked a trip to Sin City on Easter. Why does that holiday have to move around so much?
We celebrated on Saturday with church and an egg hunt, then early Sunday, we whispered “He is risen/He is risen indeed” as my dad came over to watch the kids and we snuck out of the house at 6 a.m. By 9 a.m., we were drinking mimosas at altitude.
Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to listen to “secular” music, and right about the time my parents gave up, the Pump album came out and I wanted “What it Takes” for “Love in an Elevator.” I fell hard for Aerosmith and Steven Tyler’s gigundous mouth. Here I am, 30 years later, skipping Easter for a concert so maybe my parents were right. But even though “Janie’s Got a Gun” I feel “F.I.N.E.”
I started high school when Get a Grip came out. MTV was blocked at our house, but I saw that Alicia Silverstone video for “Cryin’” at a friend’s and felt “Crazy” like I was “Livin’ on the Edge.” When she bungeed off that bridge and flipped that boy the bird, something pulsed deep inside my rule-following soul. I flipped off the boy, the rules, and the weight of all my teenaged angst. READ MORE