Blog dispatches from lullaby world headquarters

Lisa Roth

My Soul Food

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My dad was a medical student when I was born, and I saw very little of him the first seven years of my life, so when I was three, we started a ritual: If he was home for an occasional morning or an afternoon, he would bring out the bucket of peanut butter with cartoon animals printed on it (yes, back in the day you could buy peanut butter in a tin bucket, at least on the East Coast you could) and he’d place it on the kitchen table. Then he’d put me on his knee, hand me a spoon, and quiz me on the names of the animals. Every time I got one right, I dug in and scooped out a creamy, smooth, sugar-laden spoonful of luscious peanut butter and ate it. Every time I got one wrong, my dad dug in and ate a spoonful.

I remember the animals so clearly, and the size of the scoops he managed to maneuver out of that bucket and into his mouth. That was rare and sacred time spent with my dad. I couldn’t have been happier or felt safer during our little ritual. My palate has since matured, and I prefer natural crunchy out of a jar (still with a spoon), but need I say more about why my affection for peanut butter runs deep. And why peanut butter is a constant and a comfort.

By the time I started grade school, I was begging for peanut butter with clear purple grape jelly on gooey white bread, like my friends brought to school, but my mother insisted on more natural jams filled with seeds, or worse, the dreaded orange marmalade. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it was smeared between two pieces of egg bread, or, god forbid, a sliced bagel. At this time, we had moved from Boston to Pasadena, California, home of the John Birch Society and stuffy old money. It was the 1960s West Coast, and bagels were not the ubiquitous carbohydrate that they are here today. Pulling a bagel sandwich out of my brown paper lunch bag was like pulling out a huge neon sign flashing the message: “I’m a Jew, stare at me.”

When I was old enough to make my own sandwiches, I would slather on the peanut butter so thick that it would ooze out the sides when I ate it. I still do that. Over my lifetime, I’ve gone through peanut butter obsessions: peanut butter and marshmallow fluff, peanut butter pizza, peanut butter and chocolate fudge sauce on a spoon (the greatest trio since the Jimi Hendrix Experience). I even occasionally dabble in other nut butters like almond and cashew, but I always come back to the peanut.

I helped take care of my dad for the last year of his life, and had the opportunity to make him plenty of PB&J sandwiches, and to share our favorite, crunchy peanut butter right out of the jar.  I always say the only thing I would consider permanently tattooing on my body, because I know my affection for it will never wane, is a tiny peanut butter jar. Or maybe a tin bucket with animals on it . . . and a spoon.

Miss you, Dad.

— Lisa Roth


Siblings: The Good Times , The Bad Times and The Worst Times

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My sister and I are exact opposites.

And what I mean by that is we do NOT get along. If we aren’t firing off snarky comments, rehashing old arguments (or coming up with new ones) for any matter of time, you better get out of the way because it’s not going to last long and the shrapnel headed your way is sharp. The time bomb starts a tickin’ when we’re together no matter the situation. Last December we had a verbal throwdown in an ice fishing house in front of all my dads buddies after we started bickering about who looked more like mom, who looked more like dad. It escalated in ways too dumb to mention.  So again: no matter the situation.

It hasn’t always been like this, though, and judging by the history of our relationship, this too shall pass (but we’ll inevitably go back to ringing each other’s necks before too long! ’Cause, you know, life’s a circle).

 photo (15)

When she first came around I didn’t know what to think of her (except that she was an alien), so I just went with it and we got along fine. I drew on her with my mom’s lipstick a lot, but, being an immobile infant, she couldn’t really do anything about it.

When we were kids we acted as sort of partners in crime; whatever scheme I was devising, she was my right-hand gal. Once, we plotted to hide behind our claw-foot tub for 2 hours (’cause why not?!). Our parents panicked. We could hear them yelling for us from downstairs and even outside and we just giggled thinking we were the funniest pair. We came out before they called the cops though. Sorry Mom and Dad!

Then junior high hit and, well, all I can say is the gap between 8 and 12 is better compared to the gap between 21 and 65. She was an amazing nightmare that annoyed me for 3 years straight. She’d sneak in my room and spy on me, take my stuff and hide it, insist on being around whenever my friends were over, take my CDs, my makeup, my clothes, mock my average grades (because she was a genius), plus she would always spy on my first boyfriend and I when we’d hang out. Her best friend was his little sister, too, so that never helped. We could always hear them snickering behind a door and it was so creepy and aggravating, hah. She learned exactly how to press each and every one of my buttons. To be fair, infuriating and pestering your older sister is the primary job of younger siblings, but damn she was WAY too good at it.

As time passed and we got farther along in school, we could stand each other for longer increments of time. We even started liking the same music (she LOVED AFI)!  Once I went away to college, I realized more and more how funny and fun she was to be around and dare I say, how much I missed her!? Well . . . let’s not get carried away. Missed is a strong word, ha-ha *just kidding!* I did miss her.

Of course, as soon as we start getting along, I moved all the way to California . . . but we remained close and talked constantly. I filled her in on my life in L.A. and she kept me in the loop about hometown happenings. Then she graduated high school, started college, and everything started deteriorating.

Starting college will bring a huge shift in anyone’s life but for her (or us), it was as if a massive rogue wave snuck up, washed us clean of all love and mutual respect we had amassed for each other and were left as wildly vicious, irrational dingbats. Now, truth be told, it does seem sibling rivalry runs in our family so that it’s happening between us doesn’t totally surprise me, but the fact that it’s been going on so long does. We haven’t agreed on more than 5 things in 4 years. It’s exhausting!


Accurate portrayal of real life

I’ll be heading home for the holidays for about two weeks this year and then she’ll be joining me in L.A. in early January for a week. So we’ll be spending 24 solid days together. YIKES. We already had a huge fight about her coming here (and her wanting to invite three of her other friends to sleep on my floor for a week). So it’ll definitely be interesting, but honestly, unavoidable fights aside, I’m so excited to have her here.

I know I said we are exact opposites, and it’s undeniably true on multiple levels, but when it comes down to the brass tax of it all, we can at least agree that no matter how many times I say I don’t support the monster she’s become or I want to throw her down a flight of stairs to knock some sense into her, or how many times she thinks I make all the wrong decisions or  am just being a plain b*tch, we really only have each other’s best interest in mind and the challenges we throw at each other help us both grow (no matter how painful).

Here’s to hoping this 4-year long “shift” we’ve been in ends soon and that the increments of time we can stand each other rises again.

For more sibling fun, check out these posts.


David Lee Roth Talks to Sister Lisa


Jackson 5 on the Beach


Happy Middle Child Day


Sibling Rivalry


What’s the Buzz? The Irony of Parenting and Much More!

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There’s been a bit of buzz about Rockabye Baby lately . . . thanks to fans like you. Click on the quotes below to find out more about What the Buzz is going on: from the inspiration behind our latest release and Buzzfeed’s lullaby picks to facts you may not know about Rockabye Baby.


The biggest irony of parenting is you have this baby that’s so cute and so loved, but sometimes they drive you crazy . . .

Rockabye Baby Cofounder Lisa Roth tells, “Pharrell, Beyonce Get Lullabied on New Rockabye Baby Album”


Introduce your baby to the rock gods without causing  premature ear damage.

Buzzfeedon Rockabye Baby, “21 Famous Songs You Never Dreamed Could Be Children’s Lullabies”


Each Rockabye Baby album can take anywhere from three-to-eight months to produce.

Bizwomen behind the scenes with Rockabye Baby, “Lisa Roth on Van Halen, hawking heavy metal CDs for kids and red M&Ms”


And here’s some more buzz-worthy news:

Rockabye Baby’s Good Baby, Bad Baby is available now! Get your copy now!




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