Thursday, May 05, 2011

Something Awful

Isn't that a strange phrase?  How does it translate into "a lot" or "with a passion"?

Why don't people realize that's what I mean when I say things like, "I love to sing something awful"?

Maybe they've heard me sing.

I love to sing.  I have always loved to sing.

In fifth or sixth grade I tried out for the Tri-Cities Choir (those three cities were Ontario, Montclair and... I'm not sure what the third city was, but clearly this was only a big deal to the people applying).  I don't recall what song I sang.  I do remember standing next to the upright piano, singing my heart out and wondering what it was going to be like as a member of this choir.  I mean, I breezed right into my school's choir which was an awesome way to get out of class proved how talented I was.

Fast forward maybe 15 years when I was saving my mom from being featured on Hoarders decluttering my mom's apartment in advance of a move.  She pulled out this file that she'd kept with my accomplishments.  Dozens of (participant) ribbons from all those years I spent competing (without advancing) in gymnastics.  (Motivational) Certificates for doing things (like attending) in school (without faking sick because Luke and Laura were trapped on an island).  What else did I find?  The rejection letter from the Tri-Cities Choir.  Suddenly I recalled how the bearded, corduroy wearing man wrote on a little scrap of paper, "F flat."  Only his "flat" was underlined three times.

When Corey was a baby I would sing to him to help him sleep.  When he was maybe 18 months old I noticed that he was increasingly distressed at bedtime.  One night it finally came out.

"Hush little baby, don't say a wor..."

*sobbing*  "No song!"

"Hmm hm-hm hm-hmm..."

*bawling with tears shooting out of his eyes*  "No hmm-hmm!"

As I've aged, it seems to me that I can now occasionally hit keys.  Madelyn has enjoyed having me sing to her.  But I guess that's changing.  She's three now and more discriminating than when she was two.

This evening as we were driving home, we talked and sang.  Sometimes we talked in sing-songy voices.  She finished my sentences.

"I cannot..."

"... sing!"

*sigh*  At least we know she's got taste.


Brooke said...

Don't worry - I'm right there with you. My singing always results in Mateo looking at me with a blank stare and then he'll laugh and I'm pretty sure he's laughing at me. Or so Joe tells me :)

Brooke said...

PS - It must be something in the air. Mateo also thought it would be fun to talk and play in his crib from 3:30 am until 4:15ish or so.

Bossy Betty said...

I remember my son screaming out from his car seat "No Singing!" when I would let loose and sing along with the music. Now he's not in the car and I can sing to my heart's content. I do believe my voice has gotten better over the years. What's that? Speak up! I can't hear you!

Anti-Supermom said...

I know you aren't going to believe me, but the same thing happen to me with Henry, before he could start talking, I'd start 'his' song only for his bottom lip to curl and he'd burst into tears

So bad for the ego :)

Anything Fits A Naked Man said...

My Dad taught us all the great Irish classics like "Too Ra Lu Ra" and "Goodnight Irene." We'd sing them loud and clear on car trips. When we got a little older, my sister, Laura, commented on Dad's singing, "Dad, you sound funny!" Poor Dad was not a gifted singer!! He accepted it and loved to tell that story to anyone who'd listen! I guess it's good to have a sense of humor!! (BTW: he also NEVER stopped singing, and neither should YOU!!)

Emms said...

Oh no! If it makes you feel better I can't sing either wink wink.
BTW- I competed in gymnastics too!

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