Maternality

I had occasion to hear my own singing voice this weekend, which is pretty rare. Normally I won't sing unless the radio, karaeoke machine, or other voices are loud enough to drown me out. Friday night, however, I was babysitting for the divine Miss M., and she was sort of flipping out. Literally, actually--apparently she likes to flip back and forth in her crib to tire herself out at bedtime, but I didn't know that and thought it meant she was angry. So I pinned her in my lap and sang, in my offkey warble, what I could remember of the good old multiverse lullabies. Sadly, I was only able to remember up until "cow" for "When I First Came to This Land" and only up to the band of angels for "Sweet Chariot." And yet Miss M. was a wonderfully receptive audience, considering that she was a cranky baby, and I am a tuneless singer. Her head actually started to go heavy on my chest at one point, but when I tried to look to see if her eyes were closed, of course I woke her. Argh. Eventually I put her back in her crib and she fell asleep on her own.

A fun way to kick off the weekend of maternality, especially for one as unmaternal as myself. Those were, after all, the songs my mominator used to sing to me. In return, I made my mom some brunch (my dad, too). The food turned out pretty good, I think, but the housekeeping standards around my place have gotten pretty lax. I allocated only an hour pre-brunch to clean and, wouldn't you know it, the phone rang just as I was contemplating getting out the mop. I only just managed to absorb the phone call and get food on the table. The nice thing about my mom is that she will always insist that she doesn't notice any flaws in my person, personality or property, but after they left, I realized there were toothpaste spatters on the bathroom mirror. I'm pretty sure she noticed. But probably didn't judge. Moms are nice. Really, it'd probably be only her and Miss M. who would ever enjoy my singing.

It was a band of angels / comin' after me / Comin' for to carry me home
RR