late night plays

REPEATER: lost in the light

Light?

What light?

It has been days upon days of darkness and gloom. 

Let's get warm and cozy, shall we?

Because this guy's voice?

It's like a duvet to me. 

 

 

REPEATER: back to the river

You guys know how I feel about my kids taking music lessons and expressing themselves creatively. 

I'm all tiger mom about it—because I believe, no, I know, it's good for their growing hearts. 

It doesn't matter where the lessons and the practices take them. We don't push them to move at any pace other than their own. 

But, sometimes, they surprise us.

Last summer, when our daughter was only five, she clomped onto a stage in too-big sandals and stood in front of a room of moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, at the year-end performance. She'd started piano lessons earlier that year, because big sister was taking them, too.

She was only just starting to read, so we found a teacher who could split the lessons in half: piano and voice. They dabbled in familiar songs, because without being able to read, they were more likely to stick.

I was wrestling a fidgety toddler when I watched her step up to the microphone. And I had a last minute thought that I should try to grab a clip on my phone. 

This clip is short and wobbly. I wish it wasn't.

She made strangers cry. She made her teachers cry. She made us cry.

She got a standing ovation. 

She brought her heart onto that stage and threw it to us, knowing we would catch it.

I remember glancing at my husband and knowing what he was thinking, We never could have done this.

 

I'll often see or hear my kids piled up on the piano bench, plunking out made-up songs. Even the littlest one will stand on her tippy toes to reach the keys.

Is it too big a wish that I hope they never stop?

Photo credit: from Asthmatic Kitty

This sister duo, Lily and Madeleine, landed in my inbox a few days ago.  

When I watch this, I think about them piled on piano benches and standing on tippy toes. And I wonder if their parents thought the same things I do now.

Keep playing. Keep throwing your heart out.

You can download their five-song EP on itunes. And you can find acoustic versions (LOVE) of three of their tracks on Bandcamp. 

Enjoy!

 

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This is not a promotional post, it's just me flogging you with beautiful sounds.  

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REPEATER: The Perfect Song

open door policy

Growing up, our winter breaks were spent hunkered down at home with family and friends. In fact, the only time we boarded a plane as kids was the summer my dad took us home to his beloved Ireland. 

I guess you could say we hibernated. And we never minded it; luckily, neither do my kids.

After a much-too-short road trip to Ottawa to visit family and friends, eat pancakes in the woods, and feed chickadees from our hands, we returned home and threw our door open. And open it stayed for the rest of the week. 

My parents had that kind of home—where everyone came and settled in for awhile. Our kitchen was always loaded with food and the front door was in constant motion. There was never a limit to the number of people or length of stay. We'd pile blankets on the family room floor and live there for days. If our friends had working parents, they came and stayed for the day, and sometimes the night, too. Visits from cousins added more chaos and lots of fun.

I'd like to tell you that growing up in such a house made it just as easy for me to do the same, but hoooo-boy I have my weaknesses. And letting kids be kids is a big one. I'm a worrier and that extends to other people's kids when they are here.

In the earlier days of parenthood, I found the chaos of a full house very stressful. But I'm working on it. It's important for my kids, I know that. And it's getting easier now that I don't have an infant or wobbly toddler to chase. 

I love the sounds of laughter from every corner of the house and the sight of my children spending time with people other than us. It's those moments that give me perspective or show me a new side of their personalities. 

For five days, we filled our home with people and noise. We sat at overcrowded tables on unmatched chairs and stayed up way past our bedtimes. We drank a lot of wine (the grown ups) and ate SO MUCH dim sum. We played board games and went on walks that got us really, really muddy. 

The week was slow and long, but it was good. 

I'm already looking forward to next year. 

What about you? Do you stay close to home or fly far away?

 

 

 

 

 

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a house divided

cold day, warm heart

REPEATER: The Perfect Song

We are just on the other side of the baby days around here. For me, that stirs up enough emotion to write a heart-wrenching song. Instead, I listen to them. On repeat. 

It's not all sad, though. We're finding a bit more time for ourselves. And as part of looking forward, JB and I made a pact to find something we both love and commit to doing it for a year—outside of parenthood and, perhaps, inside of who we were before.

Though our musical tastes differ, our appreciation for music doesn't. We listen to music constantly and taking in a live show fills us far more than sharing a bag of popcorn at the movies.

Besides the moments he is with our kids, one of my favourite times to watch his face is during a concert. It's a beautiful reminder of what lives in the heart of his responsible outer self. 

The first time I stepped into his off-campus room, a week after we met, I noticed the electric guitar propped up in the corner. He's smart and kind and gorgeous AND he plays rock and roll? I could hardly understand why I was the one he brought there. 

In those early years, music was everything. I remember the way he grabbed my hand so we could run up several flights of concrete stairs to watch his favourite band Pavement play with Beck and Sloan on the roof of a parking garage in Detroit. The night I stood beside him on a grassy hill at a Beastie Boys concert, I wondered if I could ever rise to his level of cool.

He was the kind of boy who went into mosh pits and did other unimaginable things at concerts. I was the kind of girl who sat in fold-down seats and rose for encores (but only if everyone else did first). And yet, it worked. He came to the Stratford Festival and sat through a Holly Cole concert. He saw (and enjoyed) two Tori Amos shows (though he draws the line at the Indigo Girls).

On the weekend, we saw the über-talented (and married) Canadian duo, Luke Doucet and Melissa McLelland, otherwise known as Whitehorse. Our seats were amazing. The venue magical. Their chemistry filled the room. 

And as the show went on, it reinforced all the feelings I have about sharing music with JB.

Although I've made several attempts at different instruments and even sang in a choir for a few years, I am not a natural musician. It's work for me. It's not for him. He can hear it and learn it. He can pick up melodies and chord progressions without reading the sheet music. And, oh my word, he can sing. 

When I listen to music, I lean into the lyrics and look for the stories. JB leans into the musicians and listens to the notes. Together, we hear the perfect song.  

*************

"...at any point Doucet was capable of ripping off a world-class guitar riff. That he meted these out sparingly is testament to the grander ambitions of the duo." ~ Mike Suave

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It was a reminder that our shared amibition of returning to something we both love was exactly what we needed—even if we didn't realize it until we'd already begun. 

 

REPEATER: Share the Moon

 

{On the bumper of a car outside Danforth Music Hall - Indigo Girls concert}

*************

Apparently, we are most influenced by the music we listen to in our 20s.

The first time I heard the Indigo Girls, I was sitting in the front seat of my first car, beside the girl who would become my best friend. We hadn't know each other long, having only met weeks earlier while working the night shift at a factory that was paying our tuition. During one of our middle-of-the-night breaks, she pushed a mixed tape into the cassette player and—in the dark and under the stars—I discovered Romeo and Juliet.

I watched my friend sing the words: "When we made love, you used to cry. I love you like the stars above, I'm gonna love you 'til I die" like she had already lived them. I wanted to live them, too.

It became our summer anthem, and all these years later, it is still our song. It was an intoxicating time—devoted to uncovering a better version of ourselves. She did it all beside me, while we lost ourselves in the lyrics of all those songs. 

There are so many songs on the soundtrack of those days—given to me by special people and from the inside of different relationships. Whether the memories released are beautiful or heartbreaking, I can always find affection in revisiting them. 

Even though I appreciate the new songs from this talented duo, it was their 20-year-old songs I wanted to hear at the Toronto show last week. And with my other best friend, my sister, beside me, I went back to that time.

As we joined the crowd and sang until our voices were hoarse, I thought of my best friend and our cut-off jean short, sunbathing, ice cream sharing selves. Distance and motherhood and responsibilities separated us that night—but those songs were a reminder of how connected we'll always be. 

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This post is for my Katerina. Thank you for singing with me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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REPEATER: Little Talks

music was everything