I love music. Rock, pop, metal, country, ska, oldies, even some rap. I'm not cultured enough to appreciate classical, but it sounds pretty, I guess.
My kids love music, too. If I burst into song, my one year old starts to point at the iPod speakers. Maybe he just wants to drown me out, but he's definitely acquired a preference for Pink over Tom Petty. Then again, he can see Pink dancing around half nekkid on the iPod screen, whereas he's never even seen a picture of Tom Petty in any stage of dress.
We own several music video games. I have to admit, they can be a lot of fun, even after hearing the same songs played over and over again. Being Mom, with the ultimate control over day time video game playing (until Dad gets home and hogs the games) helps quite a bit. Once I start "seeing" the songs in green, yellow and red squares, it's time to shut it down.
I think it's about to get out of control, though.
The husband just bought an electric guitar and amp. For himself. He's taken up lessons. J begins piano lessons on Monday. The girls have decided it's time they learned to read music AND play the recorder AND keyboard. And the baby has a drum kit. A real drum kit, complete with cymbal.
Have I mentioned that I live in an itty bitty house, barely bigger than the Partridge family's van?
It's been a while since I've taken any music lessons, but I assume that the importance of practice hasn't changed in the past 20 years (see, I AM old).
I think it's time I found a place with free wi-fi and yummy muffins. And I suggest that everyone run out and invest in Wyeth. Advil is my headache medicine of choice.
The Boarding House by The Pioneer Woman
1 day ago