Ron Juvie

My husband and I recently saw Bon Jovi in concert at the new Giants stadium. We went with a group of friends, did some tailgating in the parking lot, and enjoyed a full kid-free night out. The kids even slept over at my parents’ house so we could saunter in at any late hour without worry. It definitely had all the elements of a great time.

Nothing says “New Jersey” quite like Bon Jovi playing at the Meadowlands. It was a little sad seeing the broken shell of the old Giants Stadium, dark and empty, but that kind of sums up New Jersey, too. We love our old hometown traditions, but we’re not afraid to embrace what’s new.

My husband claims to hate New Jersey, but I think he embodies the same theme, himself. He respects what’s been time-tested, but easily adapts to any new situation. In fact, he adapts so easily, it can be maddening at times. While I take a long time to adjust, he takes everything in stride. Ron took to parenthood like a fish takes to water, while I flopped around, gasping for breath for at least the first six months after each baby.

I remember coming downstairs one night after putting our second newborn son to bed. Ron was sitting on the couch with our oldest. From a distance, it sounded like he was teaching him the words to Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive.” As I got closer, though, I realized the lyrics had changed.

“‘Cause I’m a big boy,

On a steel trike I ride.

And I’m wanted, wanted,

In bed for the night.

Yeah I’m a big boy,

Won’t cry for all night,

And I’m wanted, wanted,

In bed for the night.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry,

In bed for the night.”

Even though I was exhausted and hormonal, I just cracked up with laughter. Ron, detecting his perfect audience, offered up another one. This soon-to-be-classic hit was set to the tune of “Bad Medicine.”

“Your love is like Backyardigans,

Backyardigans is what I need, whoa.

Make it up, like on Backyardigans,

Backyardigans can make me believe.”

And that’s how it started. One night, Ron singing silly Bon Jovi songs to our son started the “Ron Juvie” craze that all of our kids now love. There seemed to be a perfect song for every occasion.

For the general parenting public to “Born to Be My Baby” he dished out

“You were born to be my baby

Baby I was made to be your dad.”

For winding down before bedtime, to the tune of “Never Say Goodbye,” Ron sang:

“Never say nite-nite

Never say nite-nite

Goodnight to all your toys and then

Go to bed with Pooh and friends.

Say nite-nite

Never say nite-ni-eee-eye-ight

No more whining, you gotta try

To go to bed, it’s

Time to say nite-nite”

And when it was time to start potty training, to the tune of “Livin’ On a Prayer:”

“Whoa, where halfway there

Whoa in my clean underwear!

Hold my hand and

Go to the potty, I swear

Whoa, in my clean underwear!”

Most of our favorite hits were created that year, but, as the real Bon Jovi keeps churning out new albums, Ron Juvie is keeping up, too. The best from the newest album is his version of “Happy Now.”

“Can I go nappy now?

Can I have my paci now?

Put me in my crib

I’m just not that big

Oh please just put me down.

Can I go nappy now?”

Like Bon Jovi and like New Jersey, Ron is the perfect blend of old and new. Time-tested (Lord knows he’s stuck by me through enough crazy), yet he still surprises me and keeps me guessing.

In the past I’ve always joked to my husband that if Jon Bon Jovi singled me out at a concert, the chances are pretty slim that I’d make it back home. But in truth, who needs Bon Jovi when I have my very own Ron Juvie?

(First published in my “Because I Said So” column on TheAlternativePress.com.)