Everything I Learned, I Learned in Kindergarten...and Then Re-learned as a Mom!

Music Appreciation 212:  My Dad had a rule when I was growing up. "No singing at the table."  I grew up thinking this was a general rule of etiquette, a preached practice of Erma Bombeck herself.  I really didn't see anything wrong with singing at the table.  It wasn't as if we could do it when we put a big bite of mashed potatoes into our mouths.  It just showed that we were happy. 

It wasn't that Dad didn't like music.  Quite the opposite, in fact: he loved music.  My Dad was in a barbershop quartet, The Salt Flats, and travelled around the country singing.  He loved music of all kinds and was very talented.  He could whistle two notes at the same time and harmonize with himself!  He loved harmony.  When we would take any trips in the car, Dad would organize my family into parts while we were driving.  My sister and Mom would sing the melody, Dad and I would sing a harmony part, and my brother, not being a fan of this ritual, would make drum noises.

While on our yearly trip to West Yellowstone, Dad usually came up missing when we went for an ice cream cone.  We would find him singing or visiting with the barbershop singers that entertained along Main Street.  (This just goes to show how much he really did love music, because he REALLY LOVED ice cream!)

As my own family has grown, I have enjoyed all of the inherited love for music.  The whole lot of them are taking piano lessons, (granted my one-year-old only plays when I try to); two of them have went through 5th grade training in the art of recorders; one has a special knack for singing opera, while another prefers making up her own lyrical rhythms; one is taking guitar lessons while the others just like to practice to see how many times Mom can fish the pick out of the guitar hole;  whistling, whether it be out of your mouth, or just blowing air into anything that a sound will come out of, is a common practice, (it's amazing the noises you can get from a baby's belly button!); and the list goes on and on.

From the made-up, one-note symphonies to the plunking out of "Chopsticks";  from the race through "Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater" to the grandiose memorization of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata";  we love it all.

At this very moment, my youngest is displaying her upcoming talent by composing a cacophony of "music" on the harmonica; my oldest is playing the Transformers theme song, "What I've Done" by Linkin Park, on the piano; two of my kids are sitting at the table blowing into empty .22 shells saying, "Yours has a better tune, can we trade?"; while my last two are tumbling and singing in the front room to the heavy bass of their dance CD.  Oh yes, we love music, anytime, anywhere.

In short, even though my husband and I really LOVE our kid's music, and although it may not be a law in Martha Stewart's dining room, we just have to say, usually in unison, "No singing at the table!"