the songs i sing

So far, Scott had been doing most of the calming duties. Hearing him sing folk songs full voice has been one of the highlights of these, a-hem, rather challenging first three weeks.

Last night at god-knows-what-o’clock a.m., it was my turn. “Sing to him!” Scott said, encouragingly.

It makes no sense — I have a freaking master’s degree in performance art and about 15 years’ experience performing and even teaching improv theater, and yet… “I’m embarrassed.” I said.

Sing something? What?

I used to love to sing. Was never very good at it. I used to sing in the car, to the radio/tape, A LOT. My high school friends admitted that they tried to pick tapes I didn’t know, to avoid my chorale.

In later years, I used to frequent a piano bar in my neighborhood where they had song books and microphones and barstools around the piano and patrons all take turns picking songs and soloing, and throwing dollar bills in the big brandy glass in the middle.

I was in chorus in grammar school. I watched My Fair Lady over and over again and learned almost all the songs. I learned to play guitar (badly!) in high school, and sang songs I’d sung at summer camp, interspersed with the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Cat Stevens… I loved making up songs in improv classes and shows. Will still love to, when I get back on stage.

But sing to my newborn, in front of my husband, in the wee hours of the morning? I froze.

I left the bedroom, went out into the hall. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single song. I went into the nursery, sat in glider chair, rocking and jiggling swaddled-screaming-boy.

And then I thought of one. A song I’d loved from summer camp, the very first song I learned on guitar — C G and D chords being the only requirements.

Nibblin’ on sponge cake / watchin’ the sun bake / all of those tourists / covered in oil…

I remembered all the words, and even repeated the chorus with a flourish for the finish.

What else… what else?

And then, I remembered another song:

Oh we had a little party down in Newport / There was Harry, there was Mary, there was Grace / Oh we had a little party down in Newport / And we had to carry Harry from the place…

Yes, folks. I sang Margaritaville, and the Cal Drinking Song to my baby boy. These are the first songs my sleep deprived crying-addled brain came up with in a crunch.

I’m pretty sure I can remember some of the other songs I used to know. Maybe with more sleep and a refresher glance at the lyrics. Next crying jag I’ll try to get back those My Fair Lady ditties.

I could have danced all night / I could have danced all night / and still have begged for more…