I loved musicals growing up. I wore out the VCR tapes of Annie, Singing in the Rain, The Wizard of Oz, Grease, and ok, I’ll admit it, even Grease 2. Annie singing to her newly found dog, Sandy, and Danny Zuco’s multiplying chills at the high school carnival seemed like the ideal way to live. Wouldn’t life be easier if we could just break into song when times got tough? Wouldn’t everything be much more romantic if your loved one danced his or her way toward you?
As I got older, living in a musical went the way of Santa Claus and passing a day by playing make believe games, so you can imagine my shock when I realized that stay at home mamahood was a free ticket into living out my dream of a musical life.
This stay at home mama now passes her time by singing instead of speaking to her son. Word without melody is no longer necessary. Anything and everything is set to song. You name it, and we’ve got an original song for it. Some favorites are Clean This Guy for diaper time, Neh Neh Neh Neh Neh Neh Neh Baby for nursing time, Banananananananana for solid food time, and off course, the song that defies a name where I just repeat my son’s name over and over again in a hair band, death metal kind of voice and rock out hard by banging my head against an imaginary wall. This last one never fails to bring a smile to Baby’s face.
Here’s the best part: My son thinks I’m the best singer in the world. My voice is mediocre at best – even when I have the right bathroom acoustics – but stay at home mamahood affords me the fantasy aspect of living in a musical. When I see my son’s eyes light up at my seemingly ingenius lyrics and melodies, I feel even more satisfaction than when I achieve the rare 100% on Beatles Rockband vocals. It’s like being presented with a Tony award for my performance on Broadway. This mama gets to feel like a fabulous singer every single day.
All of this song is, of course, accompanied by dance. If you know me personally, you probably know dancing was a big part of my life for many years. Although my daily performances now lack the skill I once had, these dances make up for it in longevity and endurance. Outside of basic daily actions like baby butt wiping and breastfeeding, almost all of my physical actions are dance moves. Baby and I glide to the changing table, wiggle into a chair, sashay through the kitchen, and do high kicks while watching TV.
One day, when I return to the outside of the home working world, I will have to work hard not to break into song and dance when I need to express myself. For now, I’m lucky to be living my childhood dream. Before mamahood, I watched musicals; now I live in one.