Music

as a mom

It’s easy to lose who you are in maternity. Between changing diapers and endless loads of laundry and trying to keep your toddler from putting a plastic bag on their head you forget that you used to have hobbies, interests.

So the other day—I’m actually writing this not on a Thursday night!—I saw a jar of pimento stuffed olives as I was making lunch for Giovanni (a cheese omelette). I recalled how perfectly they complement vermouth, an aperitif I used to love when I lived in Spain. A time in my life where I had nowhere to be after work (for the most part) and could leisurely sit in a plaza for an hour plus lunch and stare out at the pigeons and write in my journal until I had nothing left to say (that takes a very long time for me as you all well know). So I put some olives in a dish and filled a high ball glass with ice. I squeezed half a lemon over the ice and threw the lemon in on top. I went to the bar—with Giovanni secured in his high chair—and pulled out the vermouth and poured it in, filling the glass. It made me think of the waiters in Spain who would pour your drink tableside. They’d bring the olives (or potato chips), a highballs glass filled with ice and lemon, and the bottle of vermouth on a tray and pour it for you. Finishing it off with “buen provecho” (good enjoyment/cheers). I can see and feel it now, the sun warming my skin. My hands holding my journal open flat.

I cut up the omelette to let it cool and after hearing “hop little bunny” for the 47th time I created a station from the song “tacones rojos” and thought of my time in Colombia when I was pregnant and didn’t know it yet. As a part of our cultural, after hours activities on this particular work trip was a “white party” in the bay of Cartagena. It was a blast and I felt so alive, dancing to the music in the warm (humid) air, sipping a cold drink, floating on a boat without a care in the world.

I was feeling the music now, dancing in my chair as I cajoled Giovanni to eat his omelette. Then a song I love came on “robarte in beso.” Yessss! I began dancing more enthusiastically, singing along and more passionately. Only to hear “play Jingle Bells,” from Giovanni.

“Ok, love, I’ll play that next,” I said.

“Jingle bells,” was his response.

“Yes yes, of course, as soon as this song is over,” I urged. I felt like a teenager fighting with my brother over what music to play.

“Jingle bells, play jingle bells, jingle bells, play jingle bells,” was Giovanni’s whiny response. Accompanied by foot stomping on his high chair.

So right then and there, as I played Raffi’s rendition of “Jingle Bells,” I was reminded that I am a mom of a toddler right here, right now. Although I carry carefree pieces of my self in Spain, Colombia, or Korea and always will, right now, Giovanni wins. One day he won’t want to sit and eat with me. He will play his own music by himself or with his friends so for now I cherish these times. Despite my tired eyes, my frizzy, postpartum hair that just won’t cooperate, and the endless spit up, I love it.

Happy Friday, beautiful souls. I hope you’re enjoying where you are right now. And can think fondly of another version of yourself. And do click the hyperlinked music, it will make you want to dance, I swear.

My boss at the time took this video of me. My how times have changed. Now it feels like Giovanni is my boss. And that’s just as well.