Lesson Number One

Miss M has been asking to take a singing class. For weeks I would offer "dance" and she'd say, "no, singing". I couldn't find a group kids singing class. The closest I could get was a theater class in the spring. So I found a one-on-one session to try. I of course loved the teacher, loved the situation. Miss m? not a peep. Literally not a peep. Some scrunched up head nods and glances (at me for 25 of the 30-minute meeting) in response to the teacher's questions. In all honesty, we were in an under decorated sound proof room the size of my cube at work. Needless to say she was too young for the experience. If she wants, we'll return down the road.


For the time being, I have chosen to focus on singing songs with her that expand out of my 50/60s pop and indie band favorites to identify newer, cooler pop and other more more up-to-date tunes (also more females). The other night we picked Lesson #1 from Mulan II (which if you're dying to know is not as good as Mulan - lesson #1 might be the best part). She knew a fair amount of the words already but still it was fun.

In any case, it's all about exposure. Sometimes she'll say phrases unknowingly and I'll need to show her the irony of, liking "dancing in the dark". This lead to a Saturday morning Bruce Springsteen concert.

Miss A has begun a phase of showing off all the cool things she can do. It involves moves like putting her coat on the ground and flipping it over her head to put it on. More recently, she regalled me with walking backwards into daycare. She was doing it tonight (right in to the kitchen table) when I realized she didn't know what moonwalking was; miss M either. How did they parent in the 70s without Google?!

As we were watching the video, all sorts of questions popped up. I found myself trying to explain that MJ doing the moonwalk during Billy Jean live at the Mowtown 25th Anniversary was history in 1983. It was then that I realized, move over Mulan, I have some lessons of my own.

Miss M asked, "Is that a boy or a girl?"
"A boy but his voice is high like a girl's, right?"
So what do you think?
Great. Can we watch something else like, "Shut up and dance with me"?

In the Pit

We went to Boettcher Concert Hall and tried on our listening muscles. We literally sat on stage while the musicians surrounded us and participated in Tiny Tots by Inside the Orchestra, a 45-minute performance created to introduce kids ages 6 and under to orchestral music. It was a really fantastic experience; one of those things that's probably logistically cooler as an adult though as a kid you're pretty enthralled too.

We watched as the conductor explained how things work, we laughed as guest conductors lead the orchestra, we were enamored by a young (8 year old) gal who did a piano solo, and completely taken aback by a serenade. I would go back in a heartbeat. Miss M wants to go back because she really wanted to join that 8 year old savant at the piano (which I had to bag because I've seen her play on Nancy and Ed's piano and it's no Nadia's Theme)...

Simple Song

The Shins

I've never had a song written about me. It's one of those things I silently desire but when faced with the reality of my life, I'm not putting my money on the compliment. One of the best compliments I have however received was from D, saying I inspired him. I hold that compliment in place of the poetry my untold song lyrics paint. It is D's poetry. His way is more subtle than stanzas and I tend to digest it in the silence of my thoughts later. 

Tonight he came home talking about the Gotye song again. It has been in his head for at least a week now since we watched the Somebody That I Used To Know video and I showed him the video of the cover by Walk Off the Earth. I can't tell you how many times we watched it (I forgot about how cool music videos can be). D gets something in his head and puts it on repeat for hours...days; he likes to study it to no end. When he walked in today, he was telling me how he listened to the radio all day and they played the Gotye a lot. I already knew that because I am the last person on the planet that still likes listening to the radio on a daily basis. He mentioned another song that he really liked that was being played a lot too. I knew it was Simple Song by the Shins. Once I called it up on itunes, it was there in our life playing a special concert for us as his head nodded yes to my music identification. 

We went back and forth about the lyrics, about the meaning and music as we ate dinner and bathed miss M. D contends that it is an almost perfect song, a masterpiece that might live through the ages. Later, he went downstairs while I went up to work. As I climbed the stairs I heard him in his office watching the Shins' video. I had to check it out too and find their NYC concert I watched a few weeks ago on NPR. I found this acoustic version of James Mercer singing the song in his studio and have had it on repeat the entire night.


You sure must be strong
and you feel like an ocean made warm by the sun

I contend that the song is about love, about discovering another soul aligned with yours and letting them lift you out of your wallow. It's about fantasizing the good stuff, risking your heart, and making a connection. Just this afternoon I was thinking about how all we really have in this life is whole-heartedly sharing our experiences with those we hold close, even if sometimes it means we find unrequited love. I've come to welcome the bleeding (if I don't take the heartbreak too seriously) as much as the laughter for how alive it can make me feel. After listening to the song for hours on end, I contend it is about how our silent desires can fuel the most powerful experiences we live. It's about how our presence is what really brings people joy.

In so many ways the song feels like home. I do think it will be a piece of art to be enjoyed for years to come. Somewhere in the repeat waves of lyrics, I realized I have no clue what someone would write about me in a song. I would take this song in heartbeat but I'm sure it is someone else's tune. Instead, I'll take the evening, the familiarity of my love, and his inquisitiveness, which inspires me.

Love's such a delicate thing that we we do,
with nothing to prove,
which I never knew.