Running the board

Tonight I ran the board.

Not for anything hugely complicated, but I sat in the big chair, turned the knobs, adjusted the pre-amps and hit record. I loaded our project into Cubase, changed some tracks from stereo to mono, panned the drums and bass, and then I recorded Kevin's vocals over it.

If you record, you will know this is practically nothing. If you don't, I might sound like a damn genius. Or not. Whatever.

The point is, that I finally had the energy, the will, and the patience to let Kevin start teaching me how to run the controls. I'm finally getting started on not just sitting behind the piano or in front of a microphone. It's going to be his turn too.

It felt great. We felt like a team.

Not too long ago, I told my therapist that I had no idea what I wanted to do next. We decided that wasn't entirely true. I want to make things. Write. Compose. Record. Sew. Bake. Craft.

If I can make things with Kevin, even better. Maybe we will have at least started that album I've been planning by the time I'm 40.

Next. Take two.

I am back.

The city did not swallow me whole. The conference did not eat my lunch. The women did not drain the life out of me.

Cliche. That was all just cliche.

I know what I need now.

I need to find the quiet space of this empty white box before I take in your Instagram pictures, before I throw in a few quips on Twitter, and before I snoop through Facebook. For this is where I find myself, and all other places are where I find you.

I need to find myself.

BlogHer was huge. I loved it that way. Sometimes, it is easier to find your space in a huge crowd than in a smaller crowd. The odds are more in your favor that you will find like minds.

The last BlogHer I attended was in San Francisco. There were about 800 people there. I had a six month old in tow. I was a mess in more ways than one. Private parties were apparently all the rage that year, and I had been so out of touch that I had been invited to almost nothing. I felt so lonely when everyone I knew got on that bus and went to a party at someone's house without me.

This year, I was also invited to almost nothing. The difference was, I didn't notice. There were so many people there and so many different things to do, I didn't notice. Either that, or I'm just older now, and I really have found my own feet, my own voice, and my own way in this community.

There is that.

In the sessions, I liked the fact that when the discussions turned to monetization, and they always did, I never heard anyone say that you shouldn't. That you were selling out. In fact, I don't know who these people are who say that. Personally, I don't think they exist.

What I did hear, mostly in my own head, was that you should do what you do in the way you like to do it. What I didn't hear and should have said more clearly when I did try to say it, was that if you want to make money at blogging, you have to work at making money. No one is going to read your blog, love it, and hand you some huge advertising deal. You have to sell yourself or find someone to sell you for you.

I'm not interested in that. I know how hard it is to get someone to pay you well for your artistic work. I have one art form for which I insist on being paid; I don't need another one.

I am interested in becoming a better writer. A writer who actually edits, takes notes daily, and crafts a post instead of pounding out some thoughts and hitting publish.

I am interested in sewing. I love it. I want to make things out of fabric. Which is a weird thing to just say, but it's true.

I am interested in music. Of course. I want to get up in that beautiful recording studio Kevin has been pouring his soul into for the past six years. I want to compose, sing, play, record, mix, and finish music.

The plan in my head was for this BlogHer to be my last hoorah. I really did think I was done with this space and needed to close up shop. It couldn't have turned out more differently.

Spending time with my tribe just reminded me that I love it here. I love this space. I love the people I have met because of this space. I love what this space provided for me and Susan. I love blogging. I blog for the love of it.

So that's what I'm doing here. I'm still just rambling on, but with more focus than I have had in awhile.

It feels alright to be back.

April 13

Happy birthday, Susan.

I love you, and I miss you.

For Susan

1. His Eye Is on the Sparrow
2. 
   
3. Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
   Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
   When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
   His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
   His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
   • Refrain:
     I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,
     For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
4. “Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
   And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
   Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
   His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
   His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
5. Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
   When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
   I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
   His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
   His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

~Civilla D. Martin

Flapjack Jam for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation

Alright local peeps, this Saturday, you have the chance to come to the Lakemont Club in our neighborhood, and attend the second annual Flapjack Jam for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.

Between walks and fundraisers like this one, our neighborhood, lovingly nicknamed, Super Dylan Nation, raises tens of thousands of dollars that go straight to research to end Cystic Fibrosis.

We have a personal reason for this. His name is Dylan, and he is the six year old fireball behind all of this. We do it because Dylan has Cystic Fibrosis, and we want a cure for him. For Dylan and the other 69,999 people in the world with this disease.

The pancakes will be scrumptious. The company will be divine. The silent auction will be amazing (you can check out the big ticket items in this catalog, and the little shirts I made are pictured below). The entertainment will be, well, entertaining.

Kevin and I will be taking the stage together for the first time. Yep. Married five years, and we had yet to start a band. Hush. We've been busy. Our good friend Walt Hensey will be joining us on bass, and we're borrowing a lovely drummer who I've yet to meet. But I'm certain that he's lovely, because he said "yes."

So. If you can, come by on Saturday. Come early for pancakes and the auction. Mule Kickers (Kevin named us. I kinda love it.) starts at 6:00. We really want you to be there.

I love Abandon Kansas loves me

Kevin and I had a date last night. We went to see a band. The last time we did that, it was 2008, we went to see Liam Finn, I posted about it before we went, someone read that info, showed up at the show, harassed us, and we had to go get a restraining order.

Good times, good times.

Last night's date was no less weird, but far more pleasant. And look! I'm not telling you about it until AFTER the fact. I'm so smart.

There is this band that I love. Really love. They are called Abandon Kansas.

These days, it's hard for me to find new music that reaches my heart. That's a cheesy way to put it, but it's true. There are a lot of bands and musicians that I hear and like, but very few that draw up the intense desire to listen and absorb the music.

I'm talking about a feeling I got a lot in college and right afterwards - a time when I woke, ate, slept, dreamed, breathed, lived music. I was majoring in music. I was working in a CD store. I was playing in a band. I was the pianist at a church. It was nothing but music, and I was constantly finding music that resonated so deeply with me that it became part of how I would identify myself.

Anyway, back to present day. I found this band, Abandon Kansas, on Amazon when they released a free mp3 of "O Come All Ye Faithful." It is the most beautiful arrangement I've ever heard. I barely breathed through the entire first listening.

I immediately searched for more of their music and found an EP which was also stinking amazing. Flat out fabulous.

Soon after that, they released a new full length CD. I went over to their tour page to see if they were playing anywhere near us, and to my complete surprise, they were opening their tour - wait for it - - - in a church.

WHA?

If I hadn't rambled on so long already, I would enter into a diatribe about the disdain I hold for Christian music and the industry that drives it. I could go on a bit about the fact that the word Christian isn't a very good adjective, and how there are plenty of musicians who are Christians, but who make good music that doesn't isolate itself by using bone tired imagery of being on your knees and writing lyrics that make it sound like Jesus is your boyfriend. Not to mention the times I've been told my music wasn't "Christian enough."

Oh, sorry. Did I just make that personal? Hmph.

Here's the funny thing though. It's not the first time that a band or artist has hooked me with their music before I realized they were "Christian artists." Buddy and Julie Miller. Sixpence None the Richer. Just to name a couple.

When the only date in North Carolina on Abandon Kansas' tour was at a Baptist church in Pittsboro, I was skeptical. I have to admit, I was worried there would be a love offering and an alter call. Hand raising, swaying, and lots of people pretending to look at the ceiling but whose eyes were really closed.

The whole idea made me shudder.

But we went anyway. That's how amazing this band is.

And we were not disappointed.

There were four bands playing in a tiny sanctuary complete with lights, a really really crappy PA, and a fog machine. The first band, a local group, moshed about, did that growly scream thing that is supposed to be metal, and generally played too damn loud. The second band was in the middle of the most annoyingly long sound check I have ever endured, so we left and went to get a bite to eat. Third band was actually pretty good. They claimed to be from Tupelo, MS, but I think they are actually from Booneville, not that it matters.

FINALLY, Abandon Kansas went on, and the entire experience became worth all of the weirdness. Even playing through a PA that was shot early on in the evening, they sounded amazing. They were tight. Really tight. And they played in sync with their own videos, which were being shown on monitors behind them during the show. If you aren't a musician, you might not know how hard that is - but let me tell you - it's really damn hard. And the result is very cool.

In the midst of all of that, we got to hang out with the bass player a good bit. He is adorable and was great fun to talk to.

So, yeah. Weird. Hanging out in a small Baptist church with about 20 teenagers to hear a great band.

Not your typical date, but can I just say how much I love my husband for putting up with my bizarre plans and outings? Because I do.

Mary

It's Good Friday. We didn't go to church last night, and that always makes me feel off for starting Easter weekend. However, for the second year in a row, we have sick boys on Easter, so we are stuck at home.

To be precise, I'm currently stuck in bed with Christopher, waiting for his fever to start coming down from 103.8. He's miserable, poor thing. Mallory isn't too thrilled with it either since she sits next to him at dinner, and tonight he threw up all over the table. Nothing like vomit as a side dish.

Anyway, Easter. It's the one holiday that Kevin and I have really different memories of from our childhood. He remembers big family get togethers and presents for all the kids. I remember church and a very modest Easter basket, but mainly church.

We are compromising now. The Easter baskets for the kids have a small present in them and some candy, but that's it. And we would certainly go to church if our children could remain well on the date. I'm doubting that is going to happen this year, and I'm really really sad about it.

I think a lot about Mary around Easter now. I guess it has to do with being a mama. I don't think I could have stood by and watched my son take the path that hers did. Before I had my own boys, I didn't really ever consider Mary, and now? I can't seem to stop.

So tonight, I give you one of my favorite Patty Griffin songs. Forgive the misspelling of her name on the video. I put an "i" where there should have been a "y," and seeing as how I've battled that with my own name forever, I'm greatly annoyed. Not annoyed enough to go back and fix it, mind you, but annoyed.

Hope your Easter is filled with renewal, hope, and fulfilled promises of life to come.

Songs from Christmas present

Somebody in our house was always making music this holiday season. It wasn't me or Kevin.

It was Christopher. And it was beautiful.

Songs from Christmas past

I'm not going to lie. 2010 has been a tough year.

Not enough time. Not enough money. Not enough head out of the fog for me.

Kevin and I should have had a Christmas tune or eight to share with you. Our plan has always been to record together at night after the kids go to sleep.

It will happen. 2011 will be the year that it finally happens.

Until then, I'll link you to some posts from 2007. Old Christmas recordings from days gone by. Be forewarned, they are autostarting if you are using Chrome, and maybe other browsers. They didn't use to do that, but I'm not really in the mood to go back and figure out what has changed in the html code. If you don't want to hear, just don't clicky on the linky.

It's December, isn't it? There should be pictures of my trees up. I should be posting recipes. There should have been so much more going on here. Instead, I'm just funky. Just in a funk. So not like me for Christmas. It's the year we usually go see my family in Tennessee, and we aren't doing that (see above: not enough blah blah blah). I'm bummed.

But it will all be alright. Christmas is coming whether I'm in the mood for it or not. And it will be wonderful. Christopher has enough Christmas spirit for the entire city of Raleigh. I'm sure some of it will be rubbing off on me soon.

For now, I'll listen back to the days before children, when I had time to sit around and record Christmas songs just for fun. And put eight million vocals lines on them. Nothing like a big choir of me. Mwahahaha.

We Three Kings
What Child Is This

Day 24 - Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs - 30 days of truth

I so don't have time to be doing this. I've been mulling it over all month now, and I wanted to make a detailed list and then actually compile it and give it to Mallory.

That hasn't happened. It's just too busy around here.

So, what I have instead are a list of the albums featuring female artists that I want her to listen to with me at some point. And no letter. Because really? Why would I write this in letter form? I'm not feeling that.

Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes and Under the Pink
Jonatha Brooke: Plumb, 10 Cent Wings, and Steady Pull
Julie Miller: Broken Things
Amy Grant: Lead Me On
Sundays: Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic
Sixpence None the Richer: This Beautiful Mess
Liz Phair: Exile in Guyville
The Cardigans: First Band on the Moon
Indigo Girls: Indigo Girls
Emmylou Harris: Wrecking Ball and Red Dirt Girl
Joni Mitchell: Court & Spark and Blue
Bjork: Debut
Sugarcubes: Stick Around for Joy
Sarah McLachlan: Touch, Solace, and Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
The Breeders: Last Splash
Juliana Hatfield: Hey Babe
The Story: Grace In Gravity and Angel in the House
Kathleen Edwards: Back to Me

Okay. I've got a table to set and some sleep to catch. That's all I got off the top of my head. I think that's a great start though.

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

Day 13 - A band or artist who has gotten you through some tough ass days - 30 days of truth

Really? Do I have to? This is going to be so very embarrassing.

Dear Tori,

If there hadn't been 50 other people standing behind Her Magesty's Theatre, and if it hadn't been just the first of dozens of shows you would do for Under the Pink, and if I could have garnered enough strength to say anything other than a shallow, high-pitched, "thank you," you might remember me as the girl with the star paper letter that I pressed into your hand across the rope, behind the theater in London.

Or maybe you wouldn't. It doesn't matter really.

What matters is that even though it was a life time ago, I still think of you when I think of an artist who changed my life and got me through some tough ass days.

I listened to your songs over and over and over. Your words felt like they had burst from my own heart. Your piano taught me new ways to play. New ways to write. New ways to listen.

A couple of years after that, I worked a show you played in Mississippi. Your chef had me running all over the place looking for Ben and Jerry's ice cream, which Mississippi didn't have yet. I know. Hard to believe. You came in and ate a plate of food by yourself. I didn't want to bother you, so I just sat across the room from you sending you subliminal messages of, "I love you." Because I was a little crazy then. And now, but that's no matter.

I admit, I haven't followed you the way I thought I would. I drifted from you somewhere around Strange Little Girls. That doesn't mean that you don't still mean the world to me.


And in the mist
There she rides
And castles are burning in my heart
And as I twist I hold tight
And I ride to work every morning
Wondering why
"Sit in the chair and be good now" 
And become all that they told you
The white coats enter her room
And I'm callin' my baby 
Callin' my baby
Callin' my baby
Callin' everybody else's girl
Maybe one day she'll be her own.


I'm closer to 40 than 30 and certainly far away from 20 now. But I'm pleased to tell you that I'm finally my own.

Sincerely,
me

This is part of the 30 Days of Truth series. You can find the entire list here.

How to move a grand piano

Okay, so I'm not really going to teach you how to move a grand piano yourselves. Because you shouldn't. Just don't even try. Call Larry Takas. I'll be happy to connect you with him. But, because everyone who comes in our house asks, "How did you get that piano in here?", we documented the move to the even more impressive location of UPSTAIRS.

This is my first baby. My 6'4" Mason & Hamlin AA grand piano from Ruggero Piano (the only place I would EVER buy a piano. Even if I lived on the West Coast.). It is not a piece of furniture; it is my livelihood. It is a workhorse. I love it so very much.

This morning, Larry and his crew came to move the piano from the family room up to the new studio space. Keep in mind that this piano, because of the unique Mason & Hamlin frame, weighs 900 pounds. That's more than a 9' Steinway (and sounds better too - heh). It's massive.

Here's how it's done.

Remove the pedal stock and one of the legs.

Use this cool magic leg piano rocker to roll the piano onto its side. You can see the device between the guy in orange and the GIANT man in black. Having this device is useful so that the leg of the piano doesn't snap when you turn the body on its side. Having a GIANT man in black is also useful.

Get GIANT man in black to lift 900 pound piano so the dolly can go underneath it.

Secure piano to dolly so that it doesn't fall off and squish anyone's toes.

Wheel piano through the downstairs, including my semi-painted dining room. Avoid chandelier.

Use several men to pull the piano up the stairs using lots of straps and their brute strength.

Leave GIANT man in black below the piano for obvious reasons.

If reasons aren't obvious, let's just say the GIANT man in black pushed the piano up the stairs with his right shoulder, all while eating a donut with his left hand and a slice of pizza with his right hand.

Slide piano carefully onto blankets at the top of the steps so as not to scratch the gorgeous new floors installed yesterday. Notice how they are casually letting the GIANT man in black just keep shouldering the piano while they do this.

Move the piano into the sunlight flooded happy corner of the studio where I will bask.

Better pictures of the rolling leg device. (And yes, I realize these are now centered. Stupid Blogger. I'm not re-doing it because Heaven knows when my sleeping babies will wake up. I only have so much time here.)

Rolling the piano back up onto it's two attached legs. Looks like they are giving the GIANT man in black a break. Oh wait, I forgot. He's back downstairs bringing up a rack of Kevin's gear. BY HIMSELF.

Unwrapping my baby, who made it through the house and up the steps unscathed and intact.

And of course, all that is left to do after that, is dance to some Gershwin Preludes.

Thank you, my shamoop. Thank you for this new space and again for this phenomenal instrument. I love it, and I love you.

The best day

So there was a break in the shamoopie fest yesterday. You see, part of previous shamoopie fests have resulted in multiple children, and sometimes, they tend to rule my days. That, and I couldn't find the cord to my old Viao anywhere, and it is the only computer I know how to edit video on. Oh, the grammar I have already destroyed in this post. Awesome.

Today is the day. Our anniversary. This time four years ago, we were packing the car and heading to Montreat, North Carolina, to have the perfect wedding. A couple of friends, a cake from Square Rabbit, a couple of pairs of Birkenstocks, and a stream in the world's most beautiful mountains. The only thing it was missing was our families.

This morning, I've gotten up early with the boys. We'll go pick up our mini wedding cake from Square Rabbit, go get our CSA vegetables, and then go to Stella's fourth birthday party. We'll do all of this together as a family. As much as a nice anniversary date with my husband sounds nice in theory, I have to admit - I'm so grateful to have Kevin as the father of my children - that I wouldn't want to spend the day any other way. There will be time for babysitters later. Right now, I'm enjoying our life as husband and wife - as parents.

Thank you for loving me, Kev. Happy Anniversary. Here's a little Buddy Miller diddy that makes me think back to our dating days. Next year, I'm fully anticipating recording something for you NOT on the Flip camera turned sideways on the piano. Heh.

He dreams big and perseveres

My husband is far too hard on himself. This house has been far too hard on him. The addition hasn't gone the way he planned for it to go, and he blames himself. There is someone far more appropriate to blame, but since we aren't actually finished dealing with him, I can't talk about it yet.

When I say that I wish the fence was up so I don't have to see the overgrown bamboo, that is really all I mean. I don't mean, "I wish the fence was up, but my husband is a lazy ass who hasn't gotten around to it." But that's what he hears.

I can understand why. This is his project. His dream for our family. This recording studio will be a place where he and I can work together on music just like we've wanted to do since we got together. When I complain, he takes it personally.

With as much nonsense as I take personally, I can certainly allow him that.

But for the record, I don't think this is his fault. I don't blame him for it not being finished, going over budget, or taking up all of our free time. What I see when I look at this behemoth of an addition is Kevin's ability to dream big and persevere.

I see his desire to provide for his family. His talent with power tools. His ability to envision a finished project. Especially that one, since I can't even envision a new paint color on the walls.

I know that before our fifth anniversary, we will be finished with the house (but probably not the landscaping - sorry, neighbors), and it will be lovely.

So for all the times I've gotten bent out of shape over this, I apologize. I love you, and I'm proud to be married to someone who can build his own dream. You are amazing.

Our song from 2009:

Still the luckiest shamoopie

Saturday will be our fourth anniversary. In four short years, my life has done a complete 180 degree turn around into a life I didn't know I wanted. Only, I didn't know I wanted it because I didn't know the possibilities.

Kevin and I are a lucky couple. We started seeing each other about five years ago. We were both recently separated, and our quick coupling caused quite the commotion. Rumors soared about the length of our relationship and our fidelity in our previous marriages. Rumors.

Sometimes badness leads to goodness though. It wasn't an easy road, but there isn't a night that goes by that I don't reach over, run my fingers through his hair, and thank God that Kevin was brought into my life.

In four short years we have

• Had five pregnancies and two beautiful baby boys
• Renovated a house
• Added on to said house
• Been laid off from work
• Found new work
• Become a SAHM
• Lost two beloved pets
• Seen a daughter through middle school
• Fought
• Made up
• Traveled
• Loved

It's been busy.

I cannot tell you how much I love this man. It was such a surprise too. I didn't expect it.

An ex-friend of mine scoffed when I told her that I had found "the one" so soon after my marriage crumbled. She told me that I might be happy then, but that the honeymoon doesn't last forever.

I guess she was right. Our house is messy, the boys are loud, we both are heavier, and well, there aren't enough hours in the day to get it on like we used to. Hours or energy.

But who wants to live in a honeymoon forever? Isn't the point to make a life together? Isn't the point to be with someone who you love even after they've made the bathroom stink? Someone who loves you even when you haven't shaved your armpits in over a week?

Kevin and I are perfect together. He completes me. He understands me. He supports me. He tolerates me. He loves me.

I don't ever forget, not ever for one split second of the day even when I might be madder than hell at him - I don't ever forget how lucky I am that he blew into my life on what I thought was the worst storm ever.

He is my rainbow.

Here's our song from 2008.

It's gonna have real strings and everything

There is a piece in my puzzle that doesn't quite fit. Somewhere deep within my almost crunchy, granola, tandem nursing, babywearing, sewing, baking, and all things mothering persona lies a GAMER.

I love video games. If you can drive it, shoot it, smack it down, or blow it up, I'm all over it.

Karaoke, dancing, guitar, drums, whatever. I love that too. In fact, the only thing I'm not really a fan of are the games that have the first person vision - you know, when it's like you are looking over the gun? Not a fan.

Also, not really a fan of the Wii.

I know. Blaspha-freaking-mee. I can't help it. There are multiple problems with it. The first being that Mal Mal can whoop me at just about everything there is, and that completely goes against the grain of my competitive nature.

The second is that I'm a total klutz, and being able to do amazing things with my thumbs? That was a good thing for me. I LIKE the thumb controllers. This whole get-up-and-really-do-the-motion thing isn't really good for me and my lack of grace.

Of course, there is an exception, and that would be the Wii Fit. I kind of dig getting to see the little yellow circle on the yoga poses and feel myself getting better aligned. That's nice.

I digress.

For middle school graduation, we bought Mal Mal a copy of Beatles Rock Band for the xBox. I was thinking we already had the guitars, but I was wrong. The guitars I had were for the PS2, which is deader than dead. So, we headed to Game Stop yesterday to trade in all my old PS2 stuff and get some gear for the xBox.

Don't you love how I'm just now getting to the point of this story?

Here I am, mama and stepmama to my three beautiful children. I've got my littlest in a lovely ring sling, looking all peaceful and attached, and what am I doing? Why, I'm dumping out my bag of PS2 games - most of which are ridiculously inappropriate for a house with kiddos. The dude raised his eyebrow at me and almost sounded scolding when he told me that they didn't sell Grand Theft Auto San Andreas in their store. What can I say? I like to shoot things. In games. Just in games.

The funniest thing though was when he tried to convince me to wait and buy Rock Band 3 because, "It's just like learning to play real instruments." His pitch was that the guitars had REAL strings and the keyboard had something like 34 KEYS!

Heh.

He had no way of knowing that my other oddly shaped puzzle piece is the part of me that performs and records. Sure, I like playing Rock Band, but I don't think I need the REAL fake guitars and the REAL tiny keyboard.

I just found it funny.

Okay, so there actually isn't a point to this story. I'm just trying to get back to the writing. And for the second straight night in a row, Colin has actually gone down by himself, leaving me to type freely.

Of course, I could be playing a game instead . . .

Making beautiful music together

I have a cold (I hope). Little fever, lotta snot, yucky aches. So today you just get this video. Of course "just" this video is way cuter than anything I could think of to write.

This is Little Bird and his friend Pip, playing a duet. There will be a neighborhood band forming soon. I just know it.

Wonder Pets. Yes, the Wonder Pets.

Seeing as how I'm posting every day in November, I now can feel justified in wasting, I mean, writing a post about the Wonder Pets. Not just about the Wonder Pets, but about how much I freaking love the Wonder Pets. Which apparently, is a very odd thing amongst parents.

I can't help myself though. Ever since Noggin changed their schedule to put Yo Gabba Gabba on right in the MIDDLE of Little Bird's naptime (for which I will never forgive them and will remain bitter forever), the only thing we have watched on TV is Wonder Pets (and the occasional Sesame Street). Bird loves it so much, and he knows that it comes on at the end of our day. When we've finished our afternoon errands, or if he sees me starting dinner, he starts asking for "Pets! Pets! Pets!" And I don't mind letting him watch it.

The music is wonderful. The three Wonder Pets, a guinea pig, a duckling, and a turtle, are voiced by children who sing, like children. While that might sound like a stupid statement, just take a step back and think about all the kids you hear singing on Disney or even on the Backyardigans (granted, I've only heard two songs from that show, but the two I heard were enough). The kids singing on those show are not using their pure voices. It sells, but it's not natural, and it's not good for their voices in the long run.

There is no pitch correction or auto tuning. They don't scoop or sing through their noses. It's just lovely little kid voices who sing in tune most of the time.

They sing a lot. Most of the show is sung, and is in the style of an opera. A good bit of the dialogue is done in recitative, and the music is recorded by a live orchestra. As in real people playing real instruments. As in, no midi. Hoorah.

Even though the style of the show is modeled after opera, the different adventures the Wonder Pets have leads to different styles of music. Today, Bird and I heard the blues and Broadway in two episodes. We've heard reggae and jazz, and my favorite was the dinosaur episode when they used chant like music with lots of open fifths. It was brilliant.

Finally, there is plenty of repetition for learning. But even though the Pets sing mostly the same thing at the beginning of every episode, there are usually subtle changes within the songs. Maybe the duck will sing what the turtle usually sings. Maybe they will change a word at the end of a phrase. Maybe they will sing things a little bit out of order.

These subtle changes are training Bird's ears. He can sing most of the Wonder Pets main theme song with me, but if you watch him closely while the show is on, you'll see him actively listening for the changes. It's pretty cool, and it works too. If you have ever learned music with a toddler, you know that the first thing they give back to you is the last word of the phrase. They also start picking up on the rhythm. By subtly changing these elements, Bird's ears are being challenged, and he is learning to recognize musical patterns. If you simply tap out the rhythm to their mantra, "What's gonna work?" without words or pitches, he knows to call out "Teamwork!" That is cool.

Of course, the fact that Bird and I have been going to Music Together classes since he was seven weeks old has something to do with how quickly he picks up on the musical aspects of the Wonder Pets. Our time in the car is spent listening to those Music Together CD's, practicing rhythm patterns, pitch patterns, and speech patterns. That, and just having a good time singing. I really do believe that the best thing I can do to be developing that little brain of his is to be teaching him through music and reading.

Yeah, I'm a little obsessed with exposing my children to music. I don't play Mozart at bedtime (or anytime actually), and I don't put on Bach during dinner. But at 21 months, Bird can identify a piano, a violin, a guitar, and drums by sound alone. He can keep a steady beat for about two measures. He can match pitch. He knows several songs, and the last words of phrases for dozens more. I think he's doing great.

So I confess, I love the Wonder Pets. What can I say? I'm also just a sucker for a cute guinea pig.

Just in case you were wondering, which I highly doubt you were, I received no compensation for this sappy love letter to the Wonder Pets. However, if Nickelodeon were to feel enough gratitude to send us a flyboat with the bobble head Wonder Pets in it, I wouldn't turn it down. Bird's crocodile tears when we left Target without it today were almost too much to resist.

Giants

Last Saturday, we took Little Bird to see They Might Be Giants. Our friend Abby saved us some fabulous seats on the fourth row, and we got to rock out with not one excited toddler, but two. It was the best way to see the show.

Bird has long been soothed by "I Never Go to Work." I'm not sure of the implications of that, but it has been a favorite song of his since he was about six months old. We could put that on in the car and stop any crying instantaneously. Now, he sings along with it, pulling a word here and there from each phrase. As you can tell by the picture, he always gets a big "NOOOOOOOO!" in there. He'll also pull in a "DAY" here and there and sometimes even a big "HOLIDAY!" He also likes to put his fist up to his mouth and pretend he's playing trumpet during the second verse. It's beyond adorable.

They didn't play his second favorite song, "High Five." As soon as that song starts, he sings, "HIGH FIVE!" followed by a series of words that his mama knows are "don't stop" and "up top," but I'm not sure a stranger would. He also particularly loves to throw in the "WHEEEEEE!"

Bird has been to a few concerts already. He wasn't overly excited about The Connells, but loved Mosadi Music. He tolerated all the bands at Gibson Summer Jam about as well as I did. But this? He absolutely LOVED this. He danced, he sang. He had a great time, even on a day where he had no nap.

I don't need to tell you how much it means to me that my child loves music the way he does.

The best day

Today is our third anniversary. Three years ago today, Kevin and I jumped head first into marriage. The months preceding our impromptu nuptials were set to a Damien Rice soundtrack as we spent every moment we possibly could together. We were so surprised to find each other. So surprised to fall in love so quickly and so deeply.

One of our songs. For you, Kevin. You are truly the love of my life.