I just discovered Paolo Nutini, a musician from Scotland, and I am obsessed with his song, 'Last Request'. His voice is amazing. Mine is not. And, as I was butchering it while making an elaborate breakfast of grapes and cut up apples this morning, I looked over to see Sayde dancing around the living room to my pathetic rendition of it. She was shaking her teeny hips and swaying her little stick arms with her eyes closed and a "Yeah BABY" look on her face.
For a moment I got a glimpse of what it must be like to be a little 5 year old kid. She doesn't even KNOW that I SUCK at singing.
Since Lennie's been gone, I've been practicing what I like to call minimalist parenting. So instead of the usual 2 books and 2 songs at bedtime, the kids have been lucky to get semi-clean pj's and a "Good Night!" shout from the living room. Meanwhile, Jake is just lucky that I occasionally remember to feed him.
But last night I was feeling particuarly energetic, so they got a book AND a song. Sayde requested a song with one line. "Sing Sweet Nightingale" from her cherished Cinderella. As I sang that one line over and over again, her expression was one of contentment (i.e. thumb in the smiley mouth and eyes closed) instead of the pained flinching you would expect after being repeatedly victimized by cruel auditory torture at the hand of your mother. Or maybe she was gloating that she got to pick the song and not Connor - I can never be sure.
I have a distinct memory from when I was around Sayde's age, of laying on the couch while my Mom sang "I've been Working on the RailRoad" to me. Despite being in the Glee Club in her school age years, my mother has as good a voice as I. However, I can remember the warm fuzzies I felt while looking up at her. And also how I spent years in the car listening to her humming obnoxiously loud along with the radio like a maniacal bee, and I only recently realized it. Maybe I repressed it, or maybe because she's my mom, I LIKED IT. That gives me the chills.
For a moment I got a glimpse of what it must be like to be a little 5 year old kid. She doesn't even KNOW that I SUCK at singing.
Since Lennie's been gone, I've been practicing what I like to call minimalist parenting. So instead of the usual 2 books and 2 songs at bedtime, the kids have been lucky to get semi-clean pj's and a "Good Night!" shout from the living room. Meanwhile, Jake is just lucky that I occasionally remember to feed him.
But last night I was feeling particuarly energetic, so they got a book AND a song. Sayde requested a song with one line. "Sing Sweet Nightingale" from her cherished Cinderella. As I sang that one line over and over again, her expression was one of contentment (i.e. thumb in the smiley mouth and eyes closed) instead of the pained flinching you would expect after being repeatedly victimized by cruel auditory torture at the hand of your mother. Or maybe she was gloating that she got to pick the song and not Connor - I can never be sure.
I have a distinct memory from when I was around Sayde's age, of laying on the couch while my Mom sang "I've been Working on the RailRoad" to me. Despite being in the Glee Club in her school age years, my mother has as good a voice as I. However, I can remember the warm fuzzies I felt while looking up at her. And also how I spent years in the car listening to her humming obnoxiously loud along with the radio like a maniacal bee, and I only recently realized it. Maybe I repressed it, or maybe because she's my mom, I LIKED IT. That gives me the chills.
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