Silly Songwriting

A Song in My Heart, Silly Lyrics on My Lips

Have I told you about my silly songwriting? While jollying my daughter along in the world, I frequently find myself coming up with songs about anything and everything in my path.

It all started with:

Oh, I like to change my diaper
Moo moo moo the cow says.

and has progressed through any number of songs about a variety of foods, things, and places to visit.

Yes, I have songs about going to the library, bare feet, and tortellini. I even have a song about not having a song. Sample lyric: "I'm eating my banana, but I don't have a song."

My daughter loves these songs. Sometimes I hear her singing the waffle song in her crib, which really tickles me. Not only is she reciting with precise rhythm and stress, she's approximating the tune. It makes a mamma proud.

Sometimes she requests a song. "Sing the Grandma Song!" She'll tell me. "Sing 'Barefeet.'" "Sing the banana song!" I didn't have a banana song, which is how I came to have a song about not having a song.

I don't know what exactly posses me when I come up with these riffs of silly words set to music, but when they appear, I sing them over and over to help fix them in place. I once lost a song for a week, and I was heartbroken. And then one day I fumbled for the chorus lyric and managed to recreate the whole thing. When I'm wise, I grab my voice recorder or our little Flip camera and film myself singing a snippet.

Sometimes it's just a simple repetitive refrain. Sometimes it has several verses. Sometimes the song flows straight out of my mouth in one piece. Sometimes I add on and rewrite verses for months. But in most cases, I have something I want to say, and I open up my mouth, and it comes out sung.

I've been told that they are good. Really good. Good as in Stuck in My Head And I Can't Stop Singing It good. Which I guess is good. It's an odd feeling to be internally assailed by a tune I wrote myself.

My latest was inspired about my daughter always wanting a book to read whenever she has to lie down on the changing table or sit on the potty. But not just any book, but a small book. Just a small book. Hence this song:

Give me a small book.
I want just a small book.
So give me a small book
So I don't have to wait.

I sit and sit and
when I sit I sit and read
I read and read so
I don't have to wait.

I find myself running it through my head repeatedly this week, an ongoing refrain. This one is pretty insidious, but no worse or less catchy than the rest of them.

I write earworms, I realize with amazement. I never suspected I'd ever have such a talent.
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Day of Properly Fitted Jeans

I finally had had enough of my jeans sliding down my butt.

I'm gradually slimming down again (post-nursing, post-workout), but I often find myself in an awkward in-between phase: either too plump for some pants or two slim for others.

Every few months I try on my old jeans, or attempt to. Every so often I can fit into another one the next size down. Oo, a 14 now. But my belly pooch still gets in the way. A 12 is not always a 12. Sometimes it's a 10 with an 8 waist, oh, haha.

On one hand, it's nice to be losing weight. On the other hand, I keep growing out of great pairs of jeans! I could wear my two current favs for months. But when I found myself constantly hitching them up to avoid looking like a punk, I admitted defeat. No belt was going to make those look good. "That's it for those," and I folded them for the pile to Goodwill.

Last week I realized I didn't have many pants left. Oh, I had one, maybe two pairs of dressy trousers good enough for church, thank goodness, but my jeans situation was dire. All that were left were one pair constantly hidden somewhere in the laundry and this last pair of colorful jeans. When I found those sliding off of me, oh, I was delighted but chagrined. What?! No more pants!? Impossible.

Sears was having a jeans sale, so off I went one evening. Tried on five pairs, bought two pairs. Low rise waist, slightly boot cut, stretch denim. They fit happily. No more saggy butt. Til next time.
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Sun-Warmed Studio Welcome

We climb up the long flight of wooden creaky stairs to the upstairs studio. Why are so many dance studios up flights of wooden stairs?

Three women and their children are clustered in the small lobby, wrestling small ballet slippers and and tights onto pint-sized feet and legs. They hail me cheerily, and I greet them back. When I notice the preponderance of white leotards and pink tights, skirts and slippers, I exclaim, "Oh! I didn't realize there was a dress code!" My remark serves as part question and part apology. It tells them "It's my first time - don't judge me!" In fact, I know that lots of dance studios have a dress code for their students, but I can't remember if this one does or not.

"Oh, there's no dress code," a woman laughingly informs me. "Some of us are just a little overly-excited about little girls dancing!" I giggle too, because really there is a lot of pink in the air. My little girl is dressed in various shades of purple. Today she has a colorful tree with a perched owl embroidered and appliqued onto her purple shirt. The pants are new purple leggings with a flower scatter print, (they of the purple pants song fame).

I peek in the door and see a small gaggle of little girls playing with shiny striped hula hoops. The teacher, a dark haired woman with a big smile catches me peeking in and tells me "I usually put something in the center of the room to start so the children can play while we wait for everyone to arrive." She herself is wearing a green knit top and loose black gauchos, and bare feet. Her small daughter is running around in everyday little girl clothes. Socks or bare feet are fine, I'm told. It seems to be a laid back atmosphere.

The little girl seems excited by the new scene. A floor-to-ceiling mirror along one long wall reflects everything back to us while wooden barres line the rest of the brick walls. Sunlight streams in the windows and makes pools of warmth on the cool floor. We step in and out and move the hoops around our waists and over our heads.

Another woman introduces herself and says, "Make yourself at home - don't mind us - these girls have known each other forever." One little girl comes over and says "What's your name?" Another little girl comes up and waves at TLG. The little girl doesn't know what to make of it, but she seems okay with the attention. Nothing like her run-and-hide shyness last year.

After a while, a few more children come in, and we begin. Make yourselves really really tall, then make yourselves very very small, now really tall again. We stretch and curl and smile. We end on the floor pretending to be seals stretching our backs and barking. We rest for a moment on the dusty floor, half blinded by sunshine. The little girl smiles at me. She likes it.

We take hands in a circle. I'm grateful and impressed that the little girl takes hands with the others. We make the circle stretched out and big, then bring it in to make it very small. The teacher's smiling eyes flit around the room observing and encouraging. The little girl follows along. I'm thinking this dance class thing might work out.

Then we progress to dancing around the room with the music, first "ice skating" then tip-toeing, then marching, and galloping and more. The little girl is grinning and dancing. The teacher reminds us to play "freeze" every time she shimmers the tambourine to transition to a new dance. I notice that I'm the only one in jeans instead of yoga pants. Next week I'll wear something more casual suitable for rolling around on the floor!

Later we play with scarves, read a book about moving different parts of our bodies, and play with a parachute. TLG is eager to get underneath, but we move on after a brief play. We finish with a few ballet arm moves, which most of the little girls quickly lose interest in. I'm surprised that my little girl isn't the only one uninterested in more formally structured activity, but relieved as well. This class is about right for her. She's still the tallest, but maybe not the oldest. My tall little girl fits right in.

Next week we'll bring the pink net skirt and leather-soled slippers.
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A Few Artists I Admire

A Few Artists I Admire

Roz Chast Acid Logic has something interesting to say about Roz.
K Beaton - artist of comic "Hark, a vagrant"
Guy who sketched/live blogged the NYC marathon
Kathryn Demarco
Marjane Satrapi graphic novel artist
Meredith Gran - artist of comic Octopus Pie
Andy Goldsworthy
[image of the day] photographer

Some of the characteristics they have in common is being wholey themselves, a particular sense of story telling in their art, and a sense of delight, thoughtfulness, and wonder in their work. Some of them also have a particular wry or quirky humor. At times I wish I could be more like each of them!

8 Auspicious Symbols

I am a new fan of Gretchen Rubin and her Happiness Project. Check it out - it's quite interesting and inspiring.

She recently blogged about compiling a list of ones own personal 8 Auspicious Symbols, as in Buddhist philosophy. (Side note: Buddhism is filled with numbered lists, which I've always found reassuring and intriguing to my scattered head.) Gretchen invites us to create our own list of personal symbols.

Symbols + personal reflection + lists = how could I pass this up?! :)

Wedding Ring - "Love freely given has no beginning and no end."



Spiral - The mysterious π or Pi. The way the world repeats and expands or concentrates patterns inherent in our natures. The closest to "radiate the dance." One variation is the Celtic tri-spiral that feeds itself.


Lotus-heart Hands - A symbol of gratitude and mutual regard. Our best selves. "The Buddha in me greets the Buddha in you."

Bare Tree Branches - Grace and inherent knowledge. The patterns in life that grow randomly yet in a contained pattern.



The Flaming Chalice - UU symbol of the light of knowledge lit within each of us.

Baby Hand Print - My daughter's amazing existence.

Hearts - Love in all its many manifestations, also the enjoyment of finding and noticing.



The Moon - Full to crescent, though I am especially attached to crescent moons. The cycles of our lives, always in transition.

Of course, I have more than eight symbols, but not all of them translate into words very well. What's mysterious and compelling to me is that we each develop our own list of meaningful symbols. We may hold them in our hearts, seek them out, create them, and/or flaunt them in public. And/or share them with others. :)

I notice these symbols and collect them to some degree.

I have only one wedding ring, but I have a number of seashells that show off the perfect spiral. I collect hearts in different forms. I have numerous drawings, paintings, postcards or photographs of the moon and of tree silhouettes.

Other things I notice repeatedly, such as a sliver of moon, or a full moon hovering or lifting over the horizon, shifting tone against the changing sky.

What I think of as Lotus-heart hands is an familiar gesture of appreciation greater than words. I don't personally possess a flaming chalice, but it's dear to me and representative of my whole life experience in the Unitarian Universalist church. I have only one plaster hand-print from my daughter's first Christmas. One fleeting moment in her young life thus far.

And thus the symbols fall. I find them (or they find me), and I come to realize what they mean.
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Now I'll Say "Yes!"

A couple days ago, I wrote a lot about saying "no" and feeling there were too many things crowding in. But what about saying yes? What do I say "yes" to?

Writing - yes! I have a few projects that are grabbing me like nothing else. Write, write and write some more.

Cooking - yes! I love cooking for my family and eating together. Healthy stuff, fun food, yummy and delicious food. I cook because I dislike most processed food, and I enjoy it. I enjoy the challenge of making something new and delicious or familiar and nourishing. I also enjoy eating it - that's a side benefit.

Reading - yes! Time to think and and learn and muse and lose myself in a story, then discuss it with my husband later.

Dancing - yes! And the community that surrounds it - yesyesyes!

Conversations and community - yes! Especially getting together with friends for lunch and conversation.

Creating - yes! Making stuff, even if it's totally new. Like that time I knitted mittens for the first time ever as a present simply because it sounded like a great idea. Or making an Advent calendar like the one I grew up with - yes, I am really finishing it this year! Or making up silly sings for my daughter. Or making that Italian-style white-bean soup. Yum!

Being with my child and husband - yes! My two favorite people to hang out with.

Keeping up with my house - yes! Picking up after myself is always an act of self-love, even if I grumble about it sometimes. I am one with the sweeping.

Growing things - yes! I just put some pansies into the ground for Winter color, and neatened up the herbs. The lavender did well this year, and that oregano is getting out of control. The marigolds are still blooming, and the lemon verbena looks insanely happy. The mint is still hanging on. Time to plant new flower bulbs in the side yard soon.

Keeping up with my health - yes! Good food and good mental habits and great exercise and all. Getting good sleep... well, I'm still working on that one!
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Climbing and Tumbling

My daughter has outgrown her tumbling class. Not that they do anything extraordinarily difficult there, much less real tumbling. Mostly, the children run circuits around the blocks and mats, and practice clambering over, around and under things. But there is an incline to practice rolling or somersaulting, a short wooden bar to hang or swing from, bridges to cross, arches to crawl under. The course is different every time.

In the beginning, her greatest challenge was being around the energetic tumble of other children. She'd startle and cry any time a child pushed past her. She'd spend a long time watching what everyone was doing and where they were. Sometimes she'd watch so long that she'd hardly have time to play before the session was up.

Slowly, slowly, she learned to tolerate being around rambunctious personalities or overly friendly toddlers, and to enjoy the physical challenges and accomplishments that could be had.

She learned to climb up large blocks, step from one to another and leap off onto mat or trampoline. She'd jump on the mini trampolines and hang from the monkey bar, kicking her legs out in front of her. She learned to climb under an arch, or better yet, to scale the side of one, grasping with fingers and digging in toes as if she were a rock climber. And she would heave herself to the curved top, and then stand there balancing with a huge grin, delighted at gaining her perch. I once saw her rock standing on an upside down arch as if it were a surf board!

She's learned to love playing with large balls and parachutes. She's learned that we have to put on socks and shoes before we can pick out a sticker, and how to wash her hands after class. Her successfully stepping backwards off the handwashing stool (instead of falling off sideways trusting me to catch her), was among my proudest satisfactions. She certainly has gained more knowledge and confidence in her physical capabilities.

It's been so fun to see her progress over the last year and a half. In the last month, however, I've seen a shift in her focus.

She used to run up and down "the mountain" or roll down it when she was feeling inspired. But will she try a somersault? Noo. Well, she did once or twice for Daddy. Now she plays she is going to "the beach" and tells me we need to put on sunscreen so she can sit on the sand. She has no further interest in the monkey bar, but she'll steal the pillows from around the base, drag them underneath an arch, and pretend she's sleeping in her "house."

She used to climb into "the doughnut" (two arched mats arranged to make a circle) for the fun of it, to enjoy flopping onto the wall, about chest high, and pushing herself forward and sideways to drop into the hole. Now she imagines the doughnut is the swimming pool, and she wants to "swim" in it or go fishing.

Sometimes a parent or instructor will make discrete pitying noises. "She'll get there," they say. Many other kids her age, after all, have either moved on to the big kids tumbling class or are off to preschool. But where is it exactly she needs to get? As with any other development, she'll do something when she's darn good and ready, and no pressure, er, "helpful encouragement" will sway her if she doesn't want to do something.

We seem to have hit an impasse. Apparently she has mastered the parts that interest her, and has no interest in further complicated maneuvers.

It's not as if she's not capable of being active. In fact, after a tumbling class, she seems eager for more activity, and will literally run laps around the large bathroom before I can persuade her (tackle her) to settle down enough to wash her hands.

And when she goes to the park, she'll clamber up planks and ladders, sliding headfirst down slides, throwing herself across nets and onto complicated courses.

Not to mention the irrepressible running that bursts out any time she gets to any space large enough to jog a stretch. She runs as if she has so much energy, she simply must put it somewhere. But that 'somewhere' doesn't seem to include structured tumbling.

No, right now it's the imagination that is calling her, and she's so fully engrossed in imaginative play that all that lovely apparatus merely stands in as a landscape of possibility.

So I'm thinking we should give tumbling a rest for now, or least after my punch card runs out next month. Maybe a local toddler dance class will be more to her liking. I already have found a possibility nearby. I'm crossing my fingers that it'll be the next fun challenge.
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