We have a new (used) car now. And it has a working CD player! Glory! I busted out some dusty CDs--remember CDs? The only person who uses them much at our house is Liv, who loves to sit by the portable CD player and work her way through our ancient collections. She's been lingering on R.E.M. today after declaring Camelot, "too scary."
My Livvers loves music as long as I'm not singing it. Although she claims not to like rock'n'roll, she usually favors the pop princesses on the radio over the ballads--pretty much anything current that she can car-dance to will do. (It's all in the shoulders.) She guides me through the dial when we're in the car together and I suffer through the occasional Katy Perry mess for her sake, just enjoying this time before she understands lyrics. That's not to say that she doesn't sometimes pick up on stuff. I had a Nanci Griffith CD in the other day, one I hadn't listened to for what felt like years, and after Nanci sang, "You know that drinking always makes me sad," Liv demanded: "drank what, Mom?" To which I replied with some version of my usual, "How should I know?...We've never met....Your guess is as good as mine..." or something like that.
One thing we all agree on: Michael Jackson is The King. If one of them really likes a song, she or Ally will often ask if it's Michael Jackson. Strangely, it very often it is. The DJs on my programmed stations all really seem to like MJ. Yesterday I heard 3 of his songs on my drive to Target.
Thank goodness for music. We need the distraction and the rest and the fun. The frantic first days of school are over and this week our days at home have been quieter, slower, punctuated with short bursts of nesting energy during which I try to get the basics accomplished: launder baby clothes, organize/eliminate clutter, and tick off the days until this baby gets here. Always in the background is this looming subject of baby brother. When will we get to go on our sleepover, Liv wants to know. When will I be able to take stairs two at a time again, I wonder. WHEN'S IT GONNA HAPPEN? All these unanswerable questions (well, really just the one) have a way of escalating toward restlessness. With Ally away at play dates this week, Liv and I are left to make all the decisions.
And so, the music.
When I was in high school my mom had a CD of calming instrumental music produced by the excellent, very relaxed people at Windham Hill. It had a way of balancing me when I was overwhelmed with school, work, college applications, and all the rest. I remembered that feeling, so when Ally was being born I popped it in the CD player in the delivery room and put it on an all-day, all-night loop. With dim lighting and calm midwives it made for a peaceful delivery (that and the epidural, obviously). That memory was so nice that I took the same album to my delivery with Liv.
I never realized how new-agey "A Winter's Solstice" is until I burned another copy to ease me through labor #3. Now I hear it: harps and guitars and all the other instruments you make out of cat guts. This stuff is pretty crunchy, but I tell you what. The s&$* calms me down. We've been listening to it a lot and I wonder if it triggers something for Liv. The first two times she heard it she said, "Mom! This is the music you got me for my birthday!" She is literally correct, whatever she actually means.
Now that we're close to declaring another holiday in our house, another birthday, I'm glad it's an autumn one, even if he didn't come on the autumnal equinox. That would have been cool.
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