Sadly they were all born having inherited my ability to sing nothing better than the ABC’s.
So…was this band idea set up to torture me for something I’d done while they were in the womb? Or maybe it was because they like to watch me cry every time they tried to sing “A Boy Named Sue.”
And how did this all begin anyway, you may be wondering?
Well, I’m thinking it all started one rainy day last month when son number five announced he was going to find a way to get recognized, and letter in music class for, “How to use your body as musical instruments.”
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But because of his age he still wasn’t sure if there was a way to earn a letter for something while only in grammar school and needed my help.
Well, what help could I be, I wondered. I know nothing about lettering in anything if your under the age of puberty.
So I asked if maybe he would be interested in track and field?
No, he said. He didn’t want to run around the slide and sand box with his little sisters baton in his hands while his over-sized red and blue shorts fell around his ankles.
“Okay then,” I said. “Perhaps wrestling might be your thing. After all, you’re pretty good at it on my living room furniture.”
“Mom, I’m not looking for a lobotomy and some tights.”
“I’m just plum out of ideas son. Maybe you should stick with playing the triangle or the glockenspiel after all.”
“Forget it mom. I’m just going to make my own band camp, but you can make the letter for me.”
Great. I couldn’t wait.
So…how does a mother realize her kids are actually talented enough to create their own band camp?
Secondly, it helps if the youngest child is a girl who copies and mimics everything her older brothers do. Yup, got that.
Third and perhaps most important, your children must attempt at every possible opportunity to use their bodies to create sounds. All of ours have been doing this since birth, so…check.
Now, where do children practice making music with their bodies when their father forbids them to burp out loud in his presence?
The neighbors patio while they’re on vacation.
Which was fine with me. It gave me a chance to practice singing the famous country song, “I Don’t Know whether To Kill Myself or Go Bowling” without breaking anymore kitchen windows.
Anyway, the day had finally come when the children announced that they were ready for their first rehearsal.
With me as the only audience. And that day was today.
So I swallowed a bottle of Tylenol, inhaled three larges glasses of coke, hiccuped and sat up in bed ready to hear their masterpiece.
Imagine for a moment, if you will, my children surrounding my bed using only their bodies and my kitchen necessities to make music while my head is on fire.
The 17 year old used his ability to crack his toes at will as the bass, the 14 year old burped in rhythm with the 12 year old, who was busy keeping the tempo with his left hand under his right armpit.
My daughter was sitting on my bed using her head on my pots and pans as she kept the time with the seven-year-old, who was busy using his vampire length finger nails on the bedroom window to cause the dog to howl along with them.
When the evil show was finally over, I applauded and coughed out, “Wow…I never realized what amazing musical instruments you all were born with.”
And that was the part where Shawn leaned over and asked for his letter.
So I made the letter “L” with thumb and finger and held it up to my forehead.
He looked at me, smiled and said, “I love you too mommy.”
Whew…that was close.