So, one thing you didn’t see in my previous posts under things I love was singing. I don’t know that I should really say that I don’t love it, I should instead say that no one loves for me to do it. Because if there is one thing I really, really fail at, it’s singing. I feel so sorry for my poor child every night as I sing lullabies into his ear. I always think I must be setting him up for nightmares. (cue Psycho music)
I pretty much always knew I couldn’t sing. As a kid in the church choir, I tried to just make it through by pulling a Milli Vanilli and lip syncing. I remember when the choir leader told me to “really belt it out.” I could tell by the look on her face that she wished she had said to “really hold it in.” I got by in my high school and college years singing along to popular songs because everyone was loud and perhaps not noticing small things such as pitch and tone. A few years ago, I was riding home with my husband and brother from one of my brother’s band gigs (yeah, he can carry a tune in a bucket) and from the backseat I faintly heard the radio and let loose on the lyrics to Strawberry Wine at the top of my lungs. Those two boys laughed the whole two hour drive home and that story still hasn’t died. It’s now a constant inside joke.
You don’t realize how often you sing on a daily basis, until you’re no good at it. And when you’re no good at it, it seems like everyone else is the proud owner of a Grammy. When I was teaching Kindergarten, I had to sing every single day. When you go to a birthday party, you have to sing to the guest of honor. When you have a baby, you’re constantly singing ABCs or Wheels on the Bus. At sports events, everyone sings the national anthem. Funerals, weddings, concerts, in the car, in the shower… And karaoke? Eek!
My husband has officially coined my singing as “HARM-onizing” and I think that’s “right on key.”