The Unfortunate Incident of the Playlist That Never Was

One of my great passions is music. I love music. I grew up playing instruments and singing in the choir. Music is just so amazing because it allows us to express and feel a variety of thoughts and emotions. It inspires and motivates. It is the sound track of life. So like any kid who grew up in the 90s, I’ve spent many hours of my life making mix tapes. And then cds and nowadays prime playlists. I’ve made them for everything from party mixes and holidays, to workout motivation mixes and massage treatment mixes. It’s hard not to recall a single road trip that didn’t involve either a playlist or a carefully chosen selection of cds. I can recall the Eagles mix when my girlfriends and I drove all the way to Winslow just to snap a photo of ourselves standing on the corner. There was that “go shorty, it’s your 40th birthday” mix I made my husband last May when we drove to Vegas for his 40th birthday. There was even the funeral prelude mix I played at my mom’s funeral service last year. Today while driving home from the post office with my son, I was reminded of the one playlist I didn’t make, and the unfortunate memories it’s left behind.

The song that triggered my memory of “the playlist that never was,” was Katy Perry’s song “California Girls”. I’m sure you’ve heard the song before. Just as I’m sure it’s probably stuck in your head now. (You’re welcome by the way.) So I’m driving down the road singing along about being so hot I’d melt popscicles (oh oh oh oh oh oh oh) when I realize the baby has fallen asleep so maybe I’d better turn it down a notch. And then I remembered singing along to this song while I labored with him. See,  the playlist that never was, was my labor playlist.

I don’t know who was more surprised by my lack of playlist,  myself or my husband. Playlists are my thing!!! How could I not have one on one of the most important days of our lives??? I meant to have a playlist I really and truly did. I sat down many times and tried to put one together and I just couldn’t focus or concentrate long enough to decide what I wanted on my playlist. A lot of people recommend classical or relaxing new agey type music during labor. As a massage therapist I’ve listened to that stuff almost every day since 2005. I was not going to make a playlist that reminded me of work. So then I thought maybe a playlist that was songs about babies but I didn’t really like the way it was sounding as I listened to it. So then I though maybe I’d do songs that really pump me up like Survivor’s “eye of the Tiger “. That song playing on repeat got me through the last 3 miles on Bright Angel Trail as I hiked out of the Grand Canyon; surely it would get me through labor. But nothing ever sounded or felt right. So I put off creating my labor Playlist. And then my son, who everyone told me I’d probably go over with as I was a first time mother,  decided to arrive at 38 weeks 5 days.

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When it was time to push, I got out my phone and just turned on my Katy Perry playlist. I’m a huge fan of hers. I love everything about Katy Perry from her song lyrics to her videos to her hair and costumes to her crazy fingernails. And something about her music just makes me feel really happy and relaxed. So last minute I decided Katy was what I wanted to listen to. So it started on “part of me” and then played through first “Prism” and then “Teenage Dream”. And it was great! It was awesome! I was bringing life into the world and Katy was singing me through the journey keeping me relaxed and chill. Two hours of pushing went by and then one of my absolute favorite songs,  “Firework” started to play. I was almost done, baby was almost here. They could see his giant ass precious little head, just a few more pushes they said. I pleaded with my son to come out. I told him he could be my little firework and the world could see how brightly he could shine! And then he got his stupid cute little head stuck. Again.

“Why don’t you take a breather and rest through this contraction,” they said. So I rested. “Firework” ended and the next song, “Peacock” started playing.

“oh no,” I said, “stay in there,  you can’t be born to this song.” My super laid back doctor comments how she doesn’t think she has ever heard the song before. “Oh just wait for it” I said.

My doctor listened intently and then the chorus played. And then she laughed and told me, “this is totally the song your baby going to be born to.” And then I started laughing. And those few laughs were enough to push him the rest of the way out. (No joke, ask my husband,  I laughed my son out).

Just in case you haven’t heard the song before or you have but you never really paid attention to the actual words,  let me quote a few lines for you here so you can experience the full impact of “the playlist that never was”:

Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?
Don’t be a chicken boy, stop acting like a bi-otch
I’mma peace out if you don’t give me the payoff
(Come on baby, let me see what you hidin’ underneath)
Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?
What you’re waiting for, it’s time for you to show it off
Don’t be a shy kinda guy I’ll bet it’s beautiful
(Come on baby, let me see what you hidin’ underneath)

I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock
Your peacock, cock
Your peacock, cock, cock
Your peacock
I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock
Your peacock, cock
Your peacock, cock, cock
Your peacock

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My son was born to mommy laughing about him being born to a song about Katy Perry wanting to see some dude’s penis!!!

Thats right, “peacock” isn’t about a beautiful bird with these majestic pluming feathers, it’s about a dick. And my son was born to this song. Epic. Playlist. Fail. Why couldn’t he have been born to to “firework”  or “unconditionally“? At this point even “I Kissed a Girl” would have been preferable to “peacock”.

This is now a playlist disaster I will never ever live down for as long as I live. And this is now a birth story my son will hope his future high school sweetheart,  or any future sweetheart for that matter,  never hears from us. Unfortunately for him, Mommy and Daddy aren’t making any promises at this time.

So my advice to the mommies to be who want to labor with music of their choosing,  is to pre-plan your labor music better than I did so you don’t end up birthing your child to a pop star’s longing to see a huge phallus. I myself have already taken my own advice and decided that if I do have another child, next time I will birth he or she to Deva Premal’s album “The Essence” which is healing Indian mantra music. Best of all,  not a single song on it mentions Dicks.

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Me and my little peacock
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3 thoughts on “The Unfortunate Incident of the Playlist That Never Was

  1. Are you sure it’s a penis that she is talking about? The way dad she’s it is “Peacock” is actually a term used when someone is strutting around all decked out in their fancy dress up like a peacock flaunting their “feathers” so to speak. But I am an optimist so who knows!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I the Great Grandmother of that precious little Peacock had the great honor to see him born. After his mother had been pushing for 2 hours and that song came on and she started laughing in the middle of a push that was all he needed to make his appearance and make us all proud as Peacocks. I believe no matter how we interpret that word, Wes you have earned the right to strut your stuff and have a wonderful life!

    Liked by 1 person

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