My mom likes to remind me of how, as a child, I often asked her to stop singing. I like to remind her of how she would often respond to my teen-aged vocals with a cringe and, “Oh Laura! So loud!”
In the spirit of full disclosure, I should tell you that she was drunk. Chances are she wanted to sing loudly, and she didn’t want to be the only one. But I will forever pretend like she just wanted to hear me sing. It’s one of my best memories.
A few months ago I tried singing softly to Ruby… and she started to cry. So, naturally, I began singing louder… and she began to cry louder. “Oh well,” I thought, “looks like she has more in common with my mom than Kari.”
Except for lately she’s had a change of heart. I can, at times, actually get her to STOP crying and SMILE by singing. LOUDLY. I mostly belt Broadway show tunes, but she’s also fond of Adele and Christina Aguilera.
This is fantastic, and not just for the obvious reasons. I try to talk to Ruby a lot, both to help with vocal development (we all know how I feel about that) and because a quiet house feels lonely. But I can only take so much of the baby charades and get tired of explaining how to make a peanut butter sandwich. So I’m finding myself singing more and more.
A few days ago I was folding laundry in another room when I heard Jason start laughing. “What is it?” I asked.
“She just made some funny noises. Sounded like she was singing.” Now wouldn’t that be something?