Music to My Kids’ Ears Only

I have no musical talent. Well, ok – I have killer rhythm, but that is the sum total of my musical ability.

I am surrounded by aunts, cousins, siblings, nieces, nephews, etc., etc. who can sing and play instruments. It’s not fair. It may be part of the reason I am continually telling my children, “Life is rarely fair and fair, by the way, does not mean equal.”

Fortunately, my children don’t care that I cannot, as is said, carry a tune in a bucket.

And so I sing to them. Well, I did. And like so many things as you raise children, somewhere along the way the singing stopped. I don’t know when and I don’t know why but I was reminded of it because recently my son asked that I start singing to him at bedtime again. And so we sing – he sings to me – Yankee Doodle and Sing a Song of Six Pence – and I sing to him – Jesus Loves Me and Hush Little Baby.

I also sing him a song I “wrote” (we’ll use that term very loosely) to the tune of  Frère Jacques. I started singing it to both children ages ago, personalized appropriately, of course. I sing it because I am hoping they will still hear the words when they are 16 and 38 and 45 and and 63 and 82. It goes like this . . .

I love G-
I love G-
Yes I do.
Yes I do.
I’ll love you forever.
I’ll love you for always.
I love you.
G-d does, too.

G-d loves G-
G-d loves G-
Yes, He does.
Yes, He does.
G-d loves you forever.
G-d loves you for always.
G-d loves you.
I do to.

I hope somewhere inside those words stick . . . because the words are true and my kids deserve to know it.


P.S. If you need a laugh check out this post at the Plucky Pilgrim. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages.

Excitin’ Pointamation!

I have a new favorite word . . . excitin’ pointamation!

(OK, technically it is two words.)

Either way, I love it. I especially love it when I hear it spoken by my six-year-old boy. It is, after all, one of his very own inventions.

In case you haven’t yet figured it out, this is an excitin’ pointamation:  !

One of the things I love most when he says the words is the dropped ‘g.’ He drops the ‘g’ off the end of most of his ‘ing’ words. You’d think he was under some kind of Texan influence. It must be the genes.

One of these days I’m going to make a family dictionary. I’ll explain the origins and meanings of all these crazy words (gifted to me by my children) that have made their way permanently into my vocabulary.

Excitin’ pointamation . . . clearly here to stay.


That Was Then . . .

2004 . . .

2011 . . .

Words fail me.

Well, all but these . . .

Happy Birthday, Roo Roo.

I love you to your bones.