She calls it "Mama Crazy Hair," although I would never sing a song called that because I do not want any person, song or anything saying bad things about my hair.
She is referencing The Cowboy Junkies' "Misguided Angel," and the lyrics start with "Mama, he's crazy, and he scares me" so I guess it is good she turned that into "Mama Crazy Hair" in retrospect.
The original lyrics are kind of more serious than bedhead.
But before anyone alerts authorities, I have/had good reasons for choosing this song as a lullaby instead of the traditional lullabies:
1. I love The Cowboy Junkies, that song in particular, the tragic, slightly browning flower petal voice of the lead singer, and the arrangement and lyrics are gorgeous and is fab and I heart them and am fan forevermore.
2. In my defense, I can't sing much at all, but that one song I can half do without alerting all of the animals like in 101 Dalmations.
3. I do not like traditional lullabies because they creep me out. Totally creep me out.
Surely due to overactive imagination, all I can ever picture is birds pecking away my diamonds and watches, or babies falling out of cribs up in a tree why would anyone put a baby up a tree?
And I get stressed out.
So in my mind, tragic sad song about defeated sad girl settling for less than she's worth out of fear of being alone is not as scary as birds (true) or babies in danger (also true).
Really, the choices are limited if you are going the traditional route. Birds, cradles falling, nothing good there.
My darling Clementine drowns, tragedy everywhere in those lullabies.
I have now talked myself out of feeling guilty.
And "Misguided Angel" is on repeat again. I am glutting myself in melancholy, but GOOD melancholy, the kind I can process.
I even forgot or blocked out traditional lullabies other than the awful parts that I just called out to Matt, who does not realize he is Very Important Fact Checker For This Very Important Blog, "Matt, how does the lullaby with the baby falling out of the tree go?"
And he is all, "Are you serious?"
And I am all, "I'm doing a thing."
And he's like, "Um, Rock A Bye Baby?"
And I am all, "UGGGGGGGGGGGGG. I knew I hated that one. I hate all of them. They are super awful."
I am sticking with my own brand of gloomy night night song.
M the seven year old stylist makes it about hair anyway. To her, that is as tragic as it gets.
And as deemed by me most excellent lullaby, The Cowboy Junkies' "Misguided Angel":
