Singing to their tunes
Music, they advice – all those million books on parenting
and children – is the best thing you can do for the child. From enhancing brain
capacity to calming their troubled mind, it seems like the answer to all existing queries about parenting.
Having spent a mini-fortune on all those help-me-ups to be the ideal parent, I was busy keeping my vocal chords in good form, well in time for my first child. He was the ideal listening baby. Every hum, every tune, every little song was received with grunts of murmur followed by delightful naps. Even at a few months, he had figured out ways to let me know which songs he liked and which ones needed to be repeated over and over again. I was elated.
Having spent a mini-fortune on all those help-me-ups to be the ideal parent, I was busy keeping my vocal chords in good form, well in time for my first child. He was the ideal listening baby. Every hum, every tune, every little song was received with grunts of murmur followed by delightful naps. Even at a few months, he had figured out ways to let me know which songs he liked and which ones needed to be repeated over and over again. I was elated.
Zooming in the confidence of my obviously (to me) prodigious musical skills, I put them on display at every opportunity – which mostly meant I was singing most of the time at home, leading to family members making hurried exit excuses at different parts of the day.
After I went back to full-time work, the self-proclaimed musical prowess extended to my workplace. My colleagues taken aback at first – as I was in a new organization then – turned from appreciative to polite to stunned in silence. No moment was too somber or no meeting so tense that I could not belt out a number. With a bizarre sense of humour (well, ya, blame the post-natal phase if you like) I would choose my songs according to the scenario. A cash crunch in the organization for instance would result in a song that extolled the virtues of money, while a resignation would see a parody on letting people go if they wanted to. The musical experimentation increased from day to day. Fortunately for my colleagues, I took my second maternity break, and wandered into their sunset with their relieved congratulations (whew, about time, now let’s get back to work without ad breaks).
It seemed however, that my singing sensation avatar was destined to go only thus far.
This boy, my second, was a different cup of tea – or a different bundle of
ears! My decision to entertain him
started earlier than before as I was swollen with confidence. However, my hum clamped shut even before I could properly begin.
Right from the time my second baby was in my womb, he would give one light kick at first, then another harder and even harder, every time I even began to hum. I was in pensive doubt. Was it joy, hunger, restlessness? Quiet when I was quiet, the kicks began every time I started singing, stopped when I stopped singing. Perhaps this was the way he enjoyed music? Ouch that was a hard kick, a budding dancer perhaps? Over a few times, the message became increasingly clear – No singing.
As he finally emerged out of my womb and into the real world, it was crystal clear– he preferred silence to music, my music at least. Hmph. I maintained a dignified exterior even as my husband perfected the art of converting sniggers into coughs. Silence reigned, at least my musical silence, at home and at work. Sigh... Many a flower is born to waste… blah blah..
Right from the time my second baby was in my womb, he would give one light kick at first, then another harder and even harder, every time I even began to hum. I was in pensive doubt. Was it joy, hunger, restlessness? Quiet when I was quiet, the kicks began every time I started singing, stopped when I stopped singing. Perhaps this was the way he enjoyed music? Ouch that was a hard kick, a budding dancer perhaps? Over a few times, the message became increasingly clear – No singing.
 |
| Mummy, I love you, but please don't sing! |
As he finally emerged out of my womb and into the real world, it was crystal clear– he preferred silence to music, my music at least. Hmph. I maintained a dignified exterior even as my husband perfected the art of converting sniggers into coughs. Silence reigned, at least my musical silence, at home and at work. Sigh... Many a flower is born to waste… blah blah..
In the meanwhile, as my babies became children following rogue pursuits,
yelling hoarsely, I wondered what my inputs of music had ever done to add to their acumen. Undeterred, I collared every baby in sight to sing, simpering to unsuspecting
parents that it is the best thing they can do. Some babies left my arms yelling (they were just not used to me,
nothing to do with my singing); some gazed at me in undisguised awe before they crawled off to the other end of the room.
Later one of my boys took to dancing like a fish-to-water and the second (surprise me here!) proceeded to show extreme keenness in classical music; the little blighter never let me sing even! When I ranted how, he never let me sing, the answer was given sweetly and cuttingly by a "friend" - it was not music perhaps, just your music, a remark that set off murderous longing towards this now ex-friend.
Net-net taking these parenting tips on musically engaging your children, I found, the long hard way, can be reasonably deflating. Music can be the food of love, but only if to the taste of your choosy child!
Net-net taking these parenting tips on musically engaging your children, I found, the long hard way, can be reasonably deflating. Music can be the food of love, but only if to the taste of your choosy child!
Shortly after, I donated a mini-fortune in parenting books that had spurred me on to a short-lived musical journey. I am quite sure I have contributed to the growth of a musical hopeful parent somewhere, belting numbers to their children. I don’t quite want to know how the kids responded. Nope. Not me.
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