As I’ve mentioned before, I have known I was a terrible singer from a young age. In school choir I stood at the back and proudly lip-synched the lyrics to Frosty the Snow Man while my classmates belted it out, hearts all in it. It was for the best. And while it was heartbreaking at first, knowing that I can’t sing actually became a point of pride.
I love telling people that my voice reaches a pitch only dogs can hear. I revel in describing the way windows quiver as I sing, all but cracking. Bragging that I can’t carry a tune has become one of my favourite conversations. (Boy, doesn’t that say a lot about me!)
But I’m starting to feel differently.
See, my niece loves it when I sing! Whenever we are together and I launch into song she instantly stops what she is doing, growls a bit, and then dances along to my voice grinning ear to ear. Granted, she loves it when anyone sings, or really, when anything sounds like it might be something she could dance to. But despite this I choose to accept the compliment.
She may be the only human being who enjoys my singing, but I’m ok with that.
But Emily’s joy at my perfect rendition of “Tree Hugger” has got me thinking about my own future brood. What if my children don’t like my singing? How on earth am I expected to sooth them in times of anger/frustration/sadness (so, basically all the time)?
Being a mother is no guarantee that my child will adore my voice. Take for example my nephew who recently started screaming whenever anyone sings (including his mother, my sister in law, who has one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard).
Well, if that’s the case I guess I’m doomed to a lifetime of lip-synching lullabies.