Oh yeah, I married a musician!
You may remember hearing something about our friends’ little boy with leukemia. If you’d like to follow along with his car-driving, scrubs-wearing, guacamole-mixing rockstar story (yes, he’s no ordinary three-year-old) visit C is for Crocodile.
My mom’s group, the backbone of my journey through motherhood and some of the most real people with whom I’ve ever had the pleasure of discussing breastmilk, tantrums, or a hundred ways to tackle bedtime… where was I? (Side note: I was sent to the store yesterday for four things. I did not bring a list. I had to call home to refresh my memory. Twice.) Oh, yes! My magnificent mommy group is throwing a fundraiser for our friends’ son next Saturday. Amazingly, we’re pulling it together pretty smoothly without much stress on any one person. All are contributing as they are able and it feels so lovely to be doing SOMETHING useful for him. If you’ll be in Santa Rosa next Saturday afternoon write me a quick note and I’ll let you know where all the cool people will be.
So in addition to helping with planning/organizing, I offered to serve as entertainment during the first part of the event. Then I realized it would be way more fun to drag Thor into it. Once upon a time we used to play all the time, him singing and playing guitar or occasionally keys; me on cello, electric bass, or occasionally violin. It was stressful once in awhile in the way that things sometimes are with your significant other, but mostly it was pure joy.
I’m fairly certain the last time we played together was at my sister A’s wedding almost a year and a half ago. (We wrote them a song. It was adorable. I’d nursed Owlet to sleep in my sling during dinner and while we performed she was splayed out on a built-in upholstered bench behind us with watchful family at her side.)
The time before that was almost two and a half years ago, a wedding gig shortly after Owlet was born. For simplicity, we’re basically stealing that set list to use next week.
Both of us play on our own, of course. Not as much as we’d like. I haven’t had a satisfactory practice routine stick around for long since Owlet was born. She and now Platypup, they just keep changing the schedule on me. Blah blah blah, excuses and excess whinging. Don’t tell my students.
Anyway, today, with just a week to go, Thor and I figured we’d better pull out our binders (music NERDS!) and get cracking.
Both children were awake at the time.
Half an hour later, I was on the phone with my dad, asking if he’d mind doing a little extra babysitting this week, starting, oh, maybe right now if that works for you? It does? Great!
Alone together in the daytime without having to tiptoe around sleeping babies for the first time in way too long, we returned to our instruments. Owlet wasn’t sawing away at her little violin or singing at the top of her lungs. Platypup wasn’t chortling or fussing. At least, not within earshot.
It took about three beats. Three beats at the most for me to fall in love with my husband’s voice all over again. His warm, expressive tenor moving in graceful counterpoint with my cello, we made nutella and peanut butter look like cheap whores. Especially once we finally managed to tune our instruments.
Other people need dinner and a movie, sex on the beach, and/or couple’s counseling. Not that we wouldn’t benefit from all of the above, but I think we really just need to be making a little more music.