So. My entire life I have enjoyed singing.
From the time I was 8 years old, I remember singing in my room to such artists like Patsy Cline, Nat King Cole, Judy Garland, Stevie Nicks and, well, Patsy Cline. I hated country music but for some reason I loved me some Patsy. I remember my mom walking in on many occasions while I was singing. She was normally telling me dinner was ready or dropping off my laundry. I would stop my vocals dead cold and my face would turn Washington apple red. I didn't want ANYONE to hear my voice. Not even Mom. I was just too embarrassed.
I took my love for vocals into choir class starting in 7th grade. That blossomed into 6 years of choir: 2 years jr. high, 4 years high school choir. Get me in a crowd of singers and I'll roar. Get me by myself and I'll whimper.
The forgettable Mr. Wilke was my first choir teacher, followed by the unforgettable Mr. Ballou in high school. I ADORED Mr. Ballou. Flamboyant and fun, Mr. Ballou had more energy than pop rocks mixed with soda. He could tell me the Green River was made of Mountain Dew and I'd believe him.
Every year, the veterans had to try out for concert choir to make it back in. And every year, Mr. Ballou would tell me the same thing, "Honey. You have such a beautiful voice, you just can't hear it. Use your diaphragm. Let it rip!" My problem was, I didn't like singing solo in front of people. In turn, my voice was softer than a pile of feathers. It had less "oomph" than Pamela Anderson post-operation. You get the picture.
Ten years later, the smoke-drenched karaoke ladies would tell me the same thing! So, I've kept my voice to the shower and the car ever since. I've always liked how my voice sounded when I sang softly and I've always thought there must be a purpose for how I sing.
And then it happened.
Emily was a little fussy this afternoon and just couldn't get to sleep. I had her on my lap rocking her back and forth and I said to myself, "What the hell. I'll sing her a song." Now, keep in mind, I don't sing in front of anyone unless I have at least 3 beers or 2 glasses of wine.
So on I went..."Somewhere over the rainbow..."
Within seconds Emily's eyes closed, her body relaxed and off she went into baby dreamland. Suddenly this joy came over me and tears started streaming down my face after I was done. I realized at that moment my voice was never meant to sing in front of a crowd. It was never meant to rip Pat Benetar-style. My diaphragm-free voice was meant to sing soft lullabies to my baby daughter. That soft voice, the voice everyone said needed to be louder, put my baby to sleep. And that made this Mamasita pretty darn happy.
