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M any Hollywood movies show scenes with a pregnant woman playing classical music to her belly. The idea is that classical music makes babies smarter, and that this can happen even before the baby is born. Babies apparently hear things outside of the womb as the pregnancy moves along, which must be a welcome change from the gurgles and other unmentionable noises going on in the mother’s intestinal system (they don’t call it the “fibre trimester” instead of the “final trimester” for nothing…..).

This seemed like an easy thing I could do to help make my baby smart. And I already listen to a fair bit of classical music anyway since often on my 30-40 minute twice-daily commute it’s the only thing that stands between inner calm and road rage on the DVP.

Lately, however, my musical tastes in the car have regressed. I don’t know if this is indicative of the first signs of a rejection of authority on the part of my baby (and a foreshadowing of his future as a juvenile delinquent) or me losing patience with the state of the world in general and the appalling road conditions in the GTA specifically, but more and more I’ve been listening to classic rock, and the rock of my youth from the late 80s and early 90s that has always had a place in my heart. Like my eating preferences, I’m not actually sure it has anything to do with the baby, or just me taking advantage of being able to demand McFlurries and have my husband feel obligated to go out and get one for me (honey, if you’re reading this, in my defense it was only twice, and never late at night. Plus McDonald’s is about a 5-minute drive away, and I paid for both of us at least once ☺). I’ve found that one of the advantages of pregnancy is the ability to have the mother’s demands answered, even those that are purely selfish, if you say “the baby wants it.” My husband has taken to repeating in a resigned voice around the house and out in public “I am third.”

I know that rock music may not seem to be the most appropriate selection for such innocent and tiny ears (especially at the volume I sometimes crank it to – bad mommy! – but honestly, anyone who takes the DVP or 401 these days needs all the help they can get). However, I’ve noticed that there are many good life lessons one can learn from the kind of music played on Q107 and Jack FM.

I’m teaching my baby about developmental milestones he can look forward to reaching when I listen to Aerosmith sing “walk this way, talk this way.” And introducing an excellent lesson for a toddler, which is that “You can’t always get what you want,” especially when what you want is to crayon all over the dining room walls, or eat the dog poop you found in the yard. However, “…if you try sometimes, you get what you need,” which is probably a nap.

Also, I’m teaching my baby about the often-ignored skills of “differently-abled” persons when I listen to “Pinball Wizard” by The Who. And that sometimes when we focus on what someone can’t do, we risk losing money to them at the local arcade. I’ve already planted the seed for my son to respect women’s natural sizes by singing along with Queen about the fact that “Fat bottom girls…make the rockin’ world go round.” Plus I can feel good about emphasizing the importance of regular physical activity singing along to Van Halen’s “Jump.”

And for when he gets to be a teenager, slave to whatever bad fashion happens to be the “style” then and practising lackadaisical (at best) personal grooming habits, maybe it will resonate somewhere in his subconscious that “every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp-dressed man” as ZZ Top pointed out while still in his mother’s belly (if he leans that way of course. Chances are I won’t have to worry about his personal grooming if he’s gay).

Now, I know that some of the messages in good old rock n roll are not necessarily what I want my son to emulate. And I hope that we can limit or otherwise override some of the misogynistic and bigoted messages that get played. I’m trying to be careful about which AC/DC I listen to so that I don’t have to answer back to the authorities when my son’s first letter to Santa includes a puppy, a tricycle and “A Mistress for Christmas” on the list of things he wants.

But overall, both his father and I think being exposed to a variety of music will be good for him. And I’ll be proud to dress him in his AB/CD onesie (an early gift from his uncle – see photo link from Stephen’s article). Maybe I’ll get my own rocker chick shirt, in fact. ‘Cause one of the other life lessons I’d like for him to learn is that life will get overwhelming at times, and sometimes you just need to rock out.