Once in a Lullaby

Does it ever amaze you just how wrong your own perception of yourself was?  No?  Just me then?  Ok, fine.

I always saw myself as a "baby-person."  I thought I would always be the type of person who would spend hours decorating her nursery when little Junior or Junette was coming along.  Days searching for just the right coming-home outfit.  Months setting up a set for a gorgeous welcome to the world photography session.  Instead?  I spent about 30 minutes cleaning our room to make some space for our baby's impending arrival (aka - Toff cleared a drawer in his dresser and I hung two paper stars from the ceiling).  I haven't bought a single. piece. of. clothing for my child.  Not one.  And the pictures for our birth announcement?  Took me about 20 minutes, but that was because that's all I could get of him without him crying, and as "realistic" as it would be to send our loved ones a picture of a crying newborn, apparently happy babies are much more preferred.

And do you even want to hear where I stand on the winnie-the-pooh diapers, window shades for the car, etc etc etc?  (Although if you say one word against the giant Pooh sitting on my couch you better watch yourself - that dude is the best cuddle partner everrrr.)

Now, about these lullaby things.  Walking around our house, clutching a screaming baby to my chest, searching my brain catalogue of songs I can sing to comfort him, lullabies never pop to the forefront of my brain.  I guess they just don't sound all the comforting to me.  Plus, if I'm going to sing the same song for a good half an hour, I would prefer it to be something that I don't mind having stuck in my head for the next five days.  Death Cab for Cutie's "Sound of Settling" was my favorite at first, mostly because I thoroughly enjoyed the cohesiveness of settling a baby with the lines "I've got a hunger, twisting my stomach into knots."  Next on my play list was Chairlift's "Handstands," because it's catchy and I never get bored haven't got bored yet repeating the same lines.  And once, inexplicably, I found myself singing a song by Paul Simon?  Who I haven't listened to for the past....eight years?  Odd.  But it did get me thinking about all the music that reminds me of my childhood, and how one of the biggest drawbacks of living oceans and wires and waves away from where you grew up, is that you can no longer steal borrow your dad's Cd's.  I might just have to go out and find Paul Simon, Fleetwood Mac, and Tracy Chapman on my own.