Primary songs for kids with bad dads…

We all remember the classic “Daddy’s Homecoming” song from primary, right?  Goes a little something like this:

“I’m so glad when Daddy comes home, Glad as I can be, Clap my hands and shout for joy, and climb upon his knee…”

That song used to piss me off.

Still does.  My “dad” if you will, was actually my step dad.   Even though he married my mom when I was three (and the cutest I was ever going to get, mind you)  he never could stand the sight of me and made sure to Jump on the Bed with my mom often and with great vigor to bring forth his own offspring.   And sure enough, a month or so before I turned four I had a new sibling.

I should explain.  See, my mom was a convert.   She joined the church when I was an infant, much to the dismay of her husband at the time (my biological father) who called bullshit on her conversion and said he would never join the church.  So my mom left him.  What?  Is that wrong?

Now, even though I was born out of  her first marriage and mom was baptized after having me (therefore re-virginizing her) I was a constant reminder of her dirty life before she joined the church.  It seemed that no matter how many children my mom and step dad had together there was still THAT ONE.  Me. The blonde one who tap dances everywhere and has the vocabulary of a forty year old, who will not be quiet in sacrament meeting and does not match the rest of the half-Lamanite brood.  That’s right!  Mom married a Lamanite!  A real live Native American AND a Mormon priesthood holder.  Can you believe it?  So no, I did not fit.  I didn’t even match my mom with my blonde hair and blue eyes…

Trust me, I’m going to write at length about the Lamanite stuff.  But for now, just trust me when I say that I did not fit and I KNEW I didn’t fit even when I was only four.

So I think I was about four when I was Sunbeam… (I literally just typed and deleted Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam in all caps with exclamation points, exactly the way I used to scream/sing it) And all the songs were so great.  Except for the Daddy song.  So I made up my own words and it went a little something like this:

“Dad’s so mad when he gets home,

Mad as he can be

Wraps his hands around my neck

and throws me over his knee

Spanks my butt til it is red

beats me force-fully(!)

Eats his food and then guess what?  He farts on me!”

Ok, I should clarify, my step dad never farted on me.  But you get the drift.  I was four when I wrote this classic and I was so proud of myself that I forgot what I was singing about and performed it for my mom.  This would not be the first time my poetry would get me in trouble, but Oh.My.God did mom ever give me ice cream and put me to bed early for that one…

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 20th, 2010 at 10:12 pm and is filed under Random Musings.

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