A little known fact about me is that I’m a terrible singer. Like really terrible.
In 3rd grade we did a class act for a talent show- we all dressed up as beanie babies (shout out to the 90’s!) and sang about the months of the year. I was one of the cats and for some reason someone thought it was a good idea to give me the microphone to hold while four of us belted out our tune.
“January, Meow, meow, meow, meow…” I still get teased about how terrible and LOUD I was.
In middle school we had to choose between band or chorus. I played the trumpet, so my choice was easy- Except for the fact that many of my friends did chorus. So, I “tried out” for chorus. I had to sing the scale.
Mind you this “try out” was more of a formality and a way for the choir director to know where to put me. I sang the scale and was promptly informed that I wouldn’t need to return to choir. Basically, “thanks, but no thanks.”
In college, I had to take a music education class that involved rewriting lyrics to match school content and singing live- on key. I was asked to attend office hours for singing lessons so I could pass the class.
Once I had kids, we developed a bedtime routine. I’m rather strict about our bedtime routine and thus, my kids have become very rigid about it. One part of our routine is to sing two songs. I usually sing these, despite the fact that I know I sound terrible. My husband offered to sing this evening and was immediately shot down because “mommy does the singing, she’s the best”. I guess it’s all about perspective. I’m glad that my children appreciate my voice- it’s a special time for us (but I do hope they learn to appreciate better trained vocals in the future).
Now you know.