I've Got the Music in Me

It is a universal truth:  every expectant parent, within minutes of the positive pregnancy test (and after the smelling salts have kicked in) start imagining the accomplishments their little embryo will someday achieve.  As those first tentative fetal flutters progress to relentless kicking, the hopeful parents anticipate the Heiseman trophy with their progeny's name on it.  When the ultrasound technician informs them that those three little lines on the screen mysteriously translates into, "It's a Girl!", the Heiseman trophy dream evaporates only to be replaced with some equally-unattainable-but-gender-specific bragging right. 

In my case, I started searching for subtle hints from inside my belly that she had somehow inherited the prodigious talents of Yo Yo Ma, Mozart, and Carrie Underwood all rolled into one.  In other words, I was hoping that she didn't get the Grandpa Goodman gene that has left him hopelessly tone deaf and with the inability to carry a tune in a bucket (sorry, Dad). While I was pregnant, I sang to her in the shower, car, and while shopping to encourage her musical development. Her Daddy even sang soulfully to her the Paul Robeson version of "Lullaby" in his rich baritone while she was parked in the NICU.  And as a final bid for her musical development, while walking in the metropark, I had the inspired idea to put one earphone in my belly button (I retained my innie) and the other in my ear so we could share my musical selections as we enjoyed some hands-free exercise. Bet you'll never ask to share my IPod.  But I digress.

But what if she doesn't share my love affair with music?  It has always been a large piece of who I am - whether live or recorded, hummed or strummed -I can't imagine an existence that doesn't have a stream of music running through it.  But an almost worse thought: what if she does love music, but her tastes are so contrary to mine that we can't stand to be holed up in the same house with each other's CD's?  Think about it - Lady Gaga is most likely someone's daughter (although it is possible that she was created in a laboratory from some very life-like silicone - I mean, really...Mother Nature does not grow hair like that).  And does Lady Gaga bond with her mom over lyrics like, "I want your ugly, I want your disease....?"  I'm a bit skeptical.    Another example is the life and music of Ozzy Osbourne, but that's a whole 'nother blog.

Well, I guess I won't worry yet.  Hopefully we will be able to share the passion and language of music.  And it is likely that she will develop a talent or interest that I can't even fathom yet.  Who knows, she might want to collect umbrellas or carve wooden shoes; it's all still in front of her.  One thing I know for sure is that whether she decides to become President of the United States or President of the PTA, I will be a fan.  And so that I still stand a chance for the feeling to be mutual, maybe I won't tell her about the whole earphone in the belly-button thing.