Last spring, I saw a shirt at Old Navy that I knew I had to have for Sister. It is a plain off white long sleeved tee shirt with gold letters on the front declaring, “My Mom Is A Rockstar”. For good measure, I picked up one for my best friend’s daughter as well. We have both gotten the most comments from people about those shirts. Sister loves to wear it because people always rave about it.
This weekend, Big Daddy got the game “Rock Band” for the PS3. Before he got it, he was trying to convince me that he didn’t want it if I wouldn’t play it with him. Each time we’d talk about it, I’d sigh convincingly and remind him that I’m not huge on the video games so I wasn’t making any promises.
Who am I kidding? I only play things I can win. Like Ms. Pac Man. I rocked that game growing up and I can still rock it. Probably.
At any rate, he got the game this weekend and after watching a real live rock concert in my living room, I was itching to try it. After the kids went to bed, of course. I played drums first because Big Daddy said they were hardest and I always have to prove that I can do the impossible. Or at least the difficult. Being a drummer proved to be fun and a little more difficult than I imagined.
After a couple of songs, he hands me the guitar and we trade places. Ya’ll. I can’t even lie. I was a rockstar. Heck, I am a rockstar! It was so much fun and I’m surprised we didn’t wake the kids with all the laughing and musical genius.
Also, I’m definitely a better guitar player than drummer.
This morning, when Sister woke up, I told her that I played the game with Daddy last night and she raised her brow and stared as if she didn’t believe me.
“No, really. I did! I liked it, too. I was a great guitar player.”
She still looked suspicious and said, “I’ll have to ask Daddy about that.”
I guess she forgot that her Mom is a rockstar.