Wednesday, April 7, 2010


My husband was blessed with the talent of a beautiful voice. I loved to hear him sing. He would sing in the shower... sing while he worked... and on rare occasion, perform.

When I was a teenager and had wisely made a list of the qualities I would someday want in my future husband, one of the important items on that list was musical ability. I was thinking of my unborn children. I can not sing. No, I take that back - I can - and I do... but it is not enjoyed by most.

One time (long, long ago... in a lifetime that was good and normal) my husband was on the piano and was playing some songs. I was singing along a little (as I have never been one to keep my inability to hit a correct note from the fun and games of singing and karaoke). Chris stopped. Looked at me, and said "come here". I walked over to the piano. He played one note. "Sing that", he said. I tried. A painful expression crossed his and the children's face. He played the note again, "No, really try". I again belted what was the closest to that note I could muster. Painful expressions again crossed every one's faces. I retorted with a "Stop it! I am trying!".

My kids still talk about that day. They thought it was very funny. Of course, it is easy to find humor in one's lack of ability when you have been blessed with that ability. I have tried to explain to the children my wisdom and foresight in choosing a husband with the talent to sing... and that they should thank me for the talent they posses.

Last night I came home from work and my daughter was not in a very good mood. She started fighting with everything that I said. I was tired (as I am most nights when I walk in), I went to my room to change my clothes and laid down on my bed to decompress for a few minutes. I turned the radio on and after a bit my daughter came in with a sulky face. I told her to lay down and rest with me. She glared at me. I pulled her down onto the bed and she laid there stiff as a board. Then, a familiar tune came on the radio and I started to belt out the words. My daughter continued to glare at me. As the song progressed every time I would belt a note - she would (in a singers "ahhh" kind of way) hit the correct note and give me a look like, "try this note". She continued as I continued singing loudly. As we played our little game I couldn't help but laugh. She was acting like her dad. She is blessed with his beautiful voice and talent. I hugged her, kissed her cheek... told her I missed her daddy and continued singing... and she continued to try and correct me.

1 comment: