Not quite a lullaby

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!”

Then my senior year of college I moved in with Elsha and her little sister Kari. One night I was driving Kari home from I can’t remember where when she asked, “Will you sing 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?


9 thoughts on “Not quite a lullaby

  1. Anything from South Pacific? When I worked in an after-school program, a little boy fell and just ate it. I took him to the nurse and while we were there I serenaded him with Sinatra’s “I Get A Kick Out Of You.”. Finally, after a few lines, he decided that he felt much better and wanted to go back to the playground. That ended my short career as a singer.

  2. As I’m reading I thought, “I don’t remember saying that.” kept reading and thought “oh, I was drunk? Weird.” Anyway- I probably really did want you to sing loud, not just to drown me out. I have the fondest memories of telling you a story and you just bursting into song in the middle of my sentence, probably because I talk too much.

    I can’t wait until Ruby is belting out songs by age 2! She’ll learn from the best.

    • Stories like these make me sad that the three of us are never going to live together again. Unless maybe when we get really old and our husbands all die then we can be like the Golden Girls.

      • What a morbid way to bring us together…ha! Even though we might not live together again, we could always…GET TOGETHER AROUND CHRISTMAS!!!! (just a subtle hint there for ya)

    • Ha! Oh Kari, I’m sorry for cutting you off! You’re so nice to use the adjective “fondest” when, in reality, that is probably not how you felt. And you don’t talk too much. At least I don’t remember ever thinking you talked too much.

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