If you're like me, you're always looking for ways to save time and cut corners. I never leave a room without grabbing a full trashcan or picking up a random sock or grabbing that nasty furball my ever-shedding dogs have left behind because it just means there's more for me to do later! I'm like a giant multi-tasking vacuum cleaner.
I've even noticed at times that my kids follow me around--right on my heels--as I go flying through the house collecting, cleaning and fixing because they know that they better keep moving when I'm getting things done. I know this because often times I'll turn and we'll smack right into each other, or because they'll get sick of my whirling around and hold onto the back of my shirt to slow me down. (It's the newest weightloss plan, don't you know? Dragging around an extra 30 pounds behind you? ;)
And yet every once in a while, I just hope to have a moment to myself, where I slow down and have a smidge of privacy--no emptying woodchips out of shoes, picking up old grapes from under couches, cleaning the stovetop for the 15th time after something s'more-like gooey glued itself to it...
So last weekend, after we went for a run in our now flat-tired jogging stroller (go figure, we push 60 pounds of hunkin' little men in it), we plopped the kids down in front of The Incredibles (also known as The Credibles--they're obviously very believable cartoon characters to my boys...) so Mark and I could jump into the shower for 5 minutes without total chaos ensuing.
We jump in together--again, to save time...who needs elbow room anyway while shaving, right?--and are standing there talking (trust me, nothing exciting going on, this was purely clean up and "catch up" time) as we shower. And for a moment, there's quiet.
Ahhh...
Until the shower curtain flies open and a sippy juice cup is flung into the middle of us--yes, MID-WATER STREAM--by our child with a loud demand/request: "The thing fell out of the sippy cup and now I can't drink my cranberry juice!! Will you fix it?!!"
So there we are, commando, suds and all, water pouring down and Cole completely unaffected by his surroundings and totally fixated on the need for an emergency sippy-ectomy. A non-parent might freak, shriek at the kid and grab for the curtain. Not us parents, though...what do we do? We look at each other for a second, laugh, I fix the sippy, Mark keeps showering (to save time, of course), Cole saunters away back to his Credibles, and I non-chalantly slide the curtain back.
Granted, we had a good laugh after we realized what had just happened, but hey, it got us 5 extra minutes of "peace," right?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Taking singing in public to a whole new level
I've sung my whole life. My mom and I always had the record player going while we made dinner or cookies or whatever--just the two of us belting it out. I still love Frankie Valley's "Big Girls Don't Cry-y-y-y!" because of those mom-daughter singfests. Who knows how we sounded, but we definitely don't lack lung power!
I sang in the U of M choir, I sang in an a capella group with my mom a few years ago, and of course, I sing in the car like one of those nuts you see with their hands drumming on the steering wheel and waving their hands wildly like a preacher. Yep, that's me.
So, not surprisingly, I've sung to my kids since they were in utero. Mark played them the soundtrack from The Muppets and a bunch of Led Zeppelin, and I tried to counter that with The Eagles and The Mamas and The Papas. I sang everything from hip-hop (Bootylicious isn't such a good role model start, but hey, it was fun...) to Josh Groban. I was pretty darn sure my kids would come out of my bod entirely confused about their mother and her music taste, but at least they'd be tappin' their tiny toes.
Fast forward to birth. Mark and I've always loved "You are my sunshine," so as our lullaby to the boys, we sang it regularly to calm them down, to make them smile, etc. In fact, it became an almost immediate tradition: every night before the boys went to bed, we sang "You are my sunshine" together--and we saw that they really grew to like it.
As they've gotten older, it's taken on a life of its own because now the boys sing the entire song with us as they sit on our laps at night. They love it--and honestly, I think it just calms them down, which is ALWAYS a good thing--and we love it, too. I'm already picturing the day when Rhys and Cole are 16 and I'm asking them to sit on my lap for sing-time and they look at me like I'm one of those needy, crazy moms...actually, no, they'll probably be sitting there with their iPod headphones on and won't even hear me when I ask!
So, back to sing-time. The catch right now is that Mark and I travel a bunch, which makes a family sing-time hard...or so you'd think! I've taken it upon myself--and Mark does, too--to sing wherever I am. I hate to miss it, and frankly, why should I? I figure I can always step outside of a client dinner or a meeting for 2 minutes to sing to my kids, right? Weeelllll, it gets a little tricky.
I've sang in restaurant bathrooms, in random hallways, in the valet parking circle in front of hotels--you catch my drift. Last week, however, takes the cake. There I am getting off a plane at around 7:28pm (bedtime's 7:30) and my phone rings...I'm walking down the jet stairs outside into the rain, holding my carry-on bag, dragging my suitcase, coat draped over my shoulder and digging deep into my purse to find my phone. I squeeze it to my ear using my cheek and shoulder as I trip my way up the stairs into the airport and I hear Mark say "You ready?"
At that moment, I guess I could have tried to stop...dropped everything and pulled off to the side, but it just didn't seem worth it. What the hell--who do I have to impress, right? (Hmm...probably should have thought about that a little more...) So, I answer "Sure!" and there I go, singing in full volume (but I'm sure muddled voice since my cheek was smushed to the phone) "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." as I walk through the airport. I glance around only to see giggles and smiles, and I start feeling really stupid, but I was midway, so why stop? :)
Keep in mind, too, that I look a little bit like crazy, disheveled mom meets Linus from The Peanuts comic strip...dragging my coat behind me b/c by this time it had fallen off my shoulder, my purse strap had loosened and I was holding it with my elbow, and my suitcase was actually backwards (I wasn't able to turn it around when the singing began). Class act.
I finish singing and hang up, and just had to crack up. I pulled my messy self off to the side and wondered "why did I go through all of that??" My only answer: because I HAD to--my kids were counting on mommy to sing! The funny part is that even 5 years ago, I probably would have had to have been playing TRUTH or DARE to pull that kind of stunt off--to loudly sing a goofy song while walking through the airport dragging my belongings behind me. I think it's safe to say I'm no longer too concerned about image... ;)
I sang in the U of M choir, I sang in an a capella group with my mom a few years ago, and of course, I sing in the car like one of those nuts you see with their hands drumming on the steering wheel and waving their hands wildly like a preacher. Yep, that's me.
So, not surprisingly, I've sung to my kids since they were in utero. Mark played them the soundtrack from The Muppets and a bunch of Led Zeppelin, and I tried to counter that with The Eagles and The Mamas and The Papas. I sang everything from hip-hop (Bootylicious isn't such a good role model start, but hey, it was fun...) to Josh Groban. I was pretty darn sure my kids would come out of my bod entirely confused about their mother and her music taste, but at least they'd be tappin' their tiny toes.
Fast forward to birth. Mark and I've always loved "You are my sunshine," so as our lullaby to the boys, we sang it regularly to calm them down, to make them smile, etc. In fact, it became an almost immediate tradition: every night before the boys went to bed, we sang "You are my sunshine" together--and we saw that they really grew to like it.
As they've gotten older, it's taken on a life of its own because now the boys sing the entire song with us as they sit on our laps at night. They love it--and honestly, I think it just calms them down, which is ALWAYS a good thing--and we love it, too. I'm already picturing the day when Rhys and Cole are 16 and I'm asking them to sit on my lap for sing-time and they look at me like I'm one of those needy, crazy moms...actually, no, they'll probably be sitting there with their iPod headphones on and won't even hear me when I ask!
So, back to sing-time. The catch right now is that Mark and I travel a bunch, which makes a family sing-time hard...or so you'd think! I've taken it upon myself--and Mark does, too--to sing wherever I am. I hate to miss it, and frankly, why should I? I figure I can always step outside of a client dinner or a meeting for 2 minutes to sing to my kids, right? Weeelllll, it gets a little tricky.
I've sang in restaurant bathrooms, in random hallways, in the valet parking circle in front of hotels--you catch my drift. Last week, however, takes the cake. There I am getting off a plane at around 7:28pm (bedtime's 7:30) and my phone rings...I'm walking down the jet stairs outside into the rain, holding my carry-on bag, dragging my suitcase, coat draped over my shoulder and digging deep into my purse to find my phone. I squeeze it to my ear using my cheek and shoulder as I trip my way up the stairs into the airport and I hear Mark say "You ready?"
At that moment, I guess I could have tried to stop...dropped everything and pulled off to the side, but it just didn't seem worth it. What the hell--who do I have to impress, right? (Hmm...probably should have thought about that a little more...) So, I answer "Sure!" and there I go, singing in full volume (but I'm sure muddled voice since my cheek was smushed to the phone) "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." as I walk through the airport. I glance around only to see giggles and smiles, and I start feeling really stupid, but I was midway, so why stop? :)
Keep in mind, too, that I look a little bit like crazy, disheveled mom meets Linus from The Peanuts comic strip...dragging my coat behind me b/c by this time it had fallen off my shoulder, my purse strap had loosened and I was holding it with my elbow, and my suitcase was actually backwards (I wasn't able to turn it around when the singing began). Class act.
I finish singing and hang up, and just had to crack up. I pulled my messy self off to the side and wondered "why did I go through all of that??" My only answer: because I HAD to--my kids were counting on mommy to sing! The funny part is that even 5 years ago, I probably would have had to have been playing TRUTH or DARE to pull that kind of stunt off--to loudly sing a goofy song while walking through the airport dragging my belongings behind me. I think it's safe to say I'm no longer too concerned about image... ;)
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