My husband David and I both come from musical families.
His clan is made up of talented musicians and singers on all sides. My own family make up for their somewhat lesser talents with a seemingly endless amount of musical enthusiasm (my dad can regularly be heard belting out a spirited version of "If I Were a Rich Man" whilst performing household chores).
In spite of the fact that I was once told at a theater audition that my voice was "actively displeasing", it is one of the great surprises of motherhood that Snoodie ADORES my singing.
Seriously, everytime I burst into song the kid smiles like he just won the lottery. It is awesome. He doesn't care what I sing - he just cares that I keep the songs coming!
So sing I do! I sing when I pick him up out of his crib first thing in the morning, and I sing while I feed him breakfast. I sing as we drive around to our errands, and I sing when he struggles to go down at naptime. I sing at dinnertime, in the bath, and as I put him down to bed. I'm an all-day singing fool!
And, I have to tell you, this much singing takes some serious effort! To actually come up with several hours worth of musical ditties day after day is work, I tell you!
In the first weeks after bringing Snood home from the hospital I would start song after song only to find myself stymied:
"Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb! Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow! Uh..."
I know on some level that there are more lyrics to this song but damn if I can come up with them. At some point she takes that lamb to school right? To see if it can read? I really have no idea.
Total elapsed singing time: Seven seconds.
Total singing time left in the day: Six hours, fifty-nine minutes and fifty-three seconds.
A mommy friend facing the same dilemma told me about a website that lists all the words to popular children's songs for hapless parents like myself:
But the fact is, by the time you put the baby down to Google the lyrics to "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and attempt to memorize the verse where "the eager children" inquire about he source of Mary's love for said little lamb, the moment has kind of passed.
And what's left to you at this point is inventing your own original compositions.
*sung in the Key of G*
"You are awake! After a nap! Soon you will poop and we'll change your diaper!"
This approach is efficient, provides endless material, and is just as pleasing to the Snood as any known children's favorite.
But my husband has discovered an even more successful approach.
One night recently I caught him singing the following song to our son in the bathtub:
Altering the lyrics thusly:
"Loving Snood! Is easy 'cause he's Snoodie butt! Being with my Snood! Is all I want to do!"
It didn't take me long to realize that David was, in fact, a genius. A genius who had hit on a treasure trove of lyrical material backed up by tunes that were significantly more winning that the ones I was making up.
After a commute featuring 'Hair Nation' on Sirius, he would sing this dinnertime number:
"Pour some Snoodie on me! In the name of love!"
At Christmas time he serenaded Snoods in the car:
"He sees that you're a Doodle! He knows when you're a Snood!"
It was new day at our house! 80's Hits! Country Classics! Golden Oldies! The radio was suddenly an endless source of songs just waiting to be transformed into their Snood-centric versions! It was great way to keep the hits coming, for sure, but lately I've been starting to worry about the strategy's long-term effects.
Two nights ago my husband and I went out for a romantic dinner. We kept catching each other singing along with the music playing overhead:
"Wouldn't you agree? Baby you and me. We got a Snoody kind of love."
"Wise men say, only Snoods rush in..."
We weren't trying to amuse each other. Even worse, we weren't actively trying to change the lyrics at all. We were honestly overcome with the need to inserts Snood's name into every song we heard. Things seemed to be getting a little out of control.
But even if we've created a musical monster it's working for us now, so there's nothing much to do but embrace it.