You ever have one of those nights where you are singing your kid to sleep and you realize that you are really killing it? I mean, like ‘American Idol’ killing it. Tonight was one of those nights for me.
M has been asking me to sing all the songs from when he was a baby, in addition to the Indigo Girls medley that is the current standard. I made it through a few songs, eyes closed, wondering if S could hear me from the other room and wondering which judge I would choose when I get a 4-chair turn on The Voice. Probably Adam. He is so cute.
There I was, halfway through You Are My Sunshine, and M says, “Is that the right tune?” You know what? It wasn’t! I was so far away from the tune. I think I was somewhere between This Land Is Your Land and Rock and Roll All Nite. I was feeling the spotlights and hearing the crowd and my not-yet-three-year old called me out.
I remember the very long nights when he was a baby and I would sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, each round gaining depth and fullness as my baby boy wiggled and cooed for what felt like hours. It is amazing how sleep deprivation changes one’s sense of reality. If I had a recording of those late nights, I am sure I would be sorely disappointed in what I heard. Thanks to my kid, I am fairly certain in that fact tonight.
I think I prefer that cloud of denial a little. Sometimes, that singing is the only thing that keeps me from collapsing in a heap at the end of the day. I guess my singing works. M is asleep and I am writing. So, I suppose I will keep at it until M asks me to stop. Hopefully that will be a long time from now because a tiny part of me also wants to keep the hope of fame alive.