When I was
growing up, I played music constantly. I liked to sing (still do), and I would
play a song twenty times in a row to learn it. Sometimes I wouldn’t play the
whole song, just the parts I was having trouble with, over and over and over
again. Being a parent myself, I don’t know how mine stood it. I was shy, so I
wouldn’t sing in front of well … anyone,
but when I was in my bedroom (which is where lived, essentially) I’d perform my
heart out.
Since
getting married (and losing my bedroom) and having kids and being busy with
childcare, chores, work, and other married-life stuff, I’ve stopped listening
to music regularly. I’ll now go days and even weeks without playing a record or
singing anything other than a hymn or two on Sunday morning.
I feel
badly about this. The gift of music should not be taken for granted. Our bodies
and souls were designed to respond to music—isn’t that amazing?—and its transformative
powers are awesome. You don’t have to be especially musical to appreciate what
I’m saying.
While I no
longer have the time or energy to devote to music like I used to, it’s
definitely a part of who I am, and I find myself instead going on these music
binges. The binge is usually triggered by hearing someone sing in a
particularly moving or beautiful way or maybe they’re just having fun, but then
I find my head bobbing and my foot tapping, and I just want to join in. So, during
these binges, in addition to racking up the iTune charges, I sing. A lot. My
husband doesn’t object, but my children like to complain.
One morning
in the shower during a binge, I used up all the hot water and my fingertips got
crinkly. I’d completely lost track of time. After turning off the faucets I
said out loud “Wow, I must have been in here a while.” Adam, who was sleeping
(or so I thought) in the bedroom next to the bathroom shouted in a grumpy voice
“No kidding! You sang the whole album!!” (I was having a Corrine Bailey Rae
moment. Oops.)
During
this recent binge I was going to town while in the kitchen doing dishes.
Christian appeared in the doorway, IPod dock in hand. “Uh, I’m going to set
this up, so you can remove your headphones. I don’t think you can hear
yourself.” I said “Oh, are you saying that I sound bad?” He just grinned and
continuing setting up the dock.
Later that
evening at dinner I told my family “I need you all to go somewhere. I can’t
sing around you guys. You’re always judging. It inhibits me, and the notes
won’t come out.” Christian actually giggled, he found that notion so absurd.
“Mom, you sound terrible. It has nothing to do with us” he said. Now, I’ve been
told that I have a pretty singing voice, and I do have ears, and frankly I think I’ve got some talent. I don’t
care what they say. My current binge might be winding down (Day 6), but they’ll
be another.
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