Little Lullabies

I had trouble sleeping when I was younger. Well, not really. I slept just fine. But getting me to go to bed was tough. I didn’t ask for stories, hugs, or for someone to make sure that there weren’t monsters under my bed. I asked for songs. Lots of songs.

My mom always sang me to sleep as far back as I can remember. She would make up lullabies, sing songs she knew, or sometimes just hum familiar tunes. When I was able to talk, I would request songs or sing them with her. I always enjoyed learning and repeating lyrics.

Once my brother was born, he also got an earful of melodic tunes. When we were younger we would sleep in the same bed and I would sing to him in the dark. “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” was a random request that I had to sing over and over. Instead of the lyrics “So let’s root, root, root for the home team” I had to replace the word “home” with whatever color my brother suggested. So let’s root, root, root for the yellow team.

Eventually my parents had to start getting creative. You can only listen to “Old McDonald” and “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” so many times. I liked when my mom sang “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music. The lyrics were so colorful and there were so many things to visualize! Best song ever!

In times of desperation, we would listen to ABBA or Disney soundtracks while falling asleep. Not always peaceful, but they did the trick.

I remember when my dad would sing theme songs from old TV shows that rescued him from his childhood. Gilligan’s Island was my favorite. Occasionally my mom or dad would sing The Brady Bunch intro as well. These songs were ideal because they told a story (of a lovely lady…). My mom couldn’t really sing The Partridge Family’s intro because there wasn’t much to it. And it doesn’t really do much in the relaxation department–Come on, get happy!–despite it being her favorite childhood show.

My parents would also sing us children’s church songs which were always very mellow and usually had a good message about God and Jesus loving us. That was always a comforting way to fall asleep.

I love that my parents took the time to sing us to sleep. I recognize that it wasn’t an easy task, especially when we didn’t drift off to a magical dreamland immediately and kept asking for them to sing another. I think I went through every baseball team color in the rainbow for my brother’s enjoyment. But that’s just what parents (and big sisters) do.

Did your parents or siblings ever sing to you before bed?

October

Welp, it’s here. My birthday month. I’m aware that everyone thinks their own birthday month is the best, and that’s cute. But they’re wrong. Except for people born in October. They know what’s up.

The thing I don’t like about October though, is that other things occur during the month that have nothing to do with my birth. This makes it hard to appreciate “The Perfect Month” as I’ve deemed it. One of the reason I refer to it as “the perfect month” is because it’s not too long after summer and not too far away from Christmas. It’s right in the middle of loveliness.

How I feel once it’s October.

One occasion that I’ve had to share with my birthday month is Halloween. This holiday has haunted me (get it?!) since I was born. The idea of me having to share my birth month with a holiday where I’m required to dress in costume is just way too much for me to handle. I mean, it could be worse. I could have a December birthday. All you December babies got gypped! Halloween is fun and everything, but there’s always so much hype and so little pay-off. Also, my birthday month is associated with the color orange which is just cruel and unfair.

Another recent thing that has taken over the entirety of my birthday month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Honestly, why can’t everyone just be aware of my birthday? Lily’s Birthday Awareness Month. I’m all for people being aware of breast cancer, but can’t we just figure out that it’s around instead of dedicating a whole month to it and ruining the color pink for everyone? I’m not trying to offend anyone with breast cancer or anyone that knows someone who died of breast cancer (because I know that’s what everyone thinks and everyone likes to get mad at me, yeah yeah yeah) I just don’t understand why we need a month for it. Same with Black History Month. Can’t we as a society acknowledge that black men and women are a strong part of our history as a nation? Are we supposed to forget about their history after February? Are we supposed to ignore breast cancer after October? Why do we have awareness months at all? Can’t we all just be freely aware? DON’T FORCE ME TO BE AWARE, WORLD.

After moving to Canada I’ve also had to share fake Thanksgiving with my birthday month. Canadian Thanksgiving is in early October which is dangerously close to the date of my birth. In fact, this year it’s a mere 3 days after my big day. Way too close for comfort. How about Canada just realizes that the only thing they need to be thankful for is me living in their country and dedicate this holiday to moi? Just throwing ideas around.

This October, instead of worrying about other traditions and holidays, I ask you to think about my birthday and how great I am. It’s been a quarter of a century since I’ve been on this earth and I think I deserve some respect.