Exactly How Big was that Rock?

I admit it. I live under a huge rock, one whose shadow is large enough to block out even the biggest cultural phenomena, like Amy Winehouse. Don't get me wrong. I've heard of her. I've heard about her, and I've even seen many pictures of her. I've just never heard her. Not an interview or even a song--not until about 10 minutes ago when I did a search on YouTube.

I'm not sure how I could miss hearing either Rehab or Back to Black until this afternoon. She was all over the media this summer. Though I recognized that the headlines of articles about her drug and alcohol problems were puns straight from the lyrics of her song, I was unable to fit the tune to the words. Such is the life of a mother.

Once, when I made the connection that my mother's life intersected the career highs of the Beatles and Elvis, I asked her which one she preferred. Her reply was that at the time she was too busy with five children under five to have any thoughts about music, but I didn't believe her. Both these acts were larger than life. How could she miss them? Surely she'd have to have been living in a bomb shelter to be that clueless.

Now I understand. Being a mother draws most of your time and attention to children and their interests. In the 60's, my mom didn't have cable, the Internet, or access to the family car, which went to work with my dad each day. As a modern Stay-at-Home Mom, I have all these conveniences and still missed out. Some things don't change.