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dr_pretentiousOn Monday I'll be heading back to Maryland to help my sister out with the new baby for a couple of weeks. Nearly all my tutoring clients are on vacation through the end of August, so I get time off from paid labor whether I want it (or can afford it) or not. Hazards of freelancing. (Memo to self: Dr. Avery, you need more clients.)
When I imagine helping out with Kate (The Kateling, The Katelet, She Of The Diminutive Toes, etc.), I imagine singing to her. But my memory for lyrics isn't what it used to be, and most of my kiddie-song repertoire has long since vanished from recall. What I remember is what I currently listen to, which is mostly Howling Heartbroken Woman Music. (It's kind of odd, since I'm a mostly contemplative, mostly contented woman. Go figure.) And the songs of my childhood are quirky at best, anyway.
The repertoire really is a problem. Pru and Zach won't care, my extended clan won't care, but Zach's people are Intensely Catholic Republican Beef Ranchers From Nebraska. My musical diet, heavy on Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco, is not so heavy on things that won't shock the other side of Kate's family. Picture it: Kate, age four and increasingly fluent of speech, chasing me down at her birthday party demanding, "Auntie Sarah! Auntie Sarah! Do 'The Cunt Song' again!" Thank you, Ani DiFranco. Picture the kindergarten teacher sending home the note on the first day of school asking why little Kate knows so many songs about strychnine and cyanide. Thank you, Tori. Thank you, Tom Lehrer. And my extensive collection of Pagan ritual chants is Right Out. Pru and I have long since accepted the inevitability that I will be the token Weird Relative. Every child needs one. But I don't want to get the poor girl in trouble.
I need some innocent earworms. I hear They Might Be Giants started recording music for children while I wasn't looking. Thank goodness. (I couldn't very well sing her TMBG's "Youth Culture Killed My Dog." The dogs adore her. No traumatic lullabies!) Aside from TMBG and the old Kingston Trio albums my mother raised me on, I'm entirely at a loss.
Any suggestions?
When I imagine helping out with Kate (The Kateling, The Katelet, She Of The Diminutive Toes, etc.), I imagine singing to her. But my memory for lyrics isn't what it used to be, and most of my kiddie-song repertoire has long since vanished from recall. What I remember is what I currently listen to, which is mostly Howling Heartbroken Woman Music. (It's kind of odd, since I'm a mostly contemplative, mostly contented woman. Go figure.) And the songs of my childhood are quirky at best, anyway.
The repertoire really is a problem. Pru and Zach won't care, my extended clan won't care, but Zach's people are Intensely Catholic Republican Beef Ranchers From Nebraska. My musical diet, heavy on Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco, is not so heavy on things that won't shock the other side of Kate's family. Picture it: Kate, age four and increasingly fluent of speech, chasing me down at her birthday party demanding, "Auntie Sarah! Auntie Sarah! Do 'The Cunt Song' again!" Thank you, Ani DiFranco. Picture the kindergarten teacher sending home the note on the first day of school asking why little Kate knows so many songs about strychnine and cyanide. Thank you, Tori. Thank you, Tom Lehrer. And my extensive collection of Pagan ritual chants is Right Out. Pru and I have long since accepted the inevitability that I will be the token Weird Relative. Every child needs one. But I don't want to get the poor girl in trouble.
I need some innocent earworms. I hear They Might Be Giants started recording music for children while I wasn't looking. Thank goodness. (I couldn't very well sing her TMBG's "Youth Culture Killed My Dog." The dogs adore her. No traumatic lullabies!) Aside from TMBG and the old Kingston Trio albums my mother raised me on, I'm entirely at a loss.
Any suggestions?
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Date: 2005-08-10 11:35 pm (UTC)Droops on his little hands, little gold hair
Hush, hush, whisper who dares
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers
"God bless Mommy, I know that's right
Wasn't it fun in the bath tonight
The cold so cold and the hot so hot
God bless Daddy, I quite forgot
If I open my fingers a little bit more
I can see Nana's dressing gown on the door
It's a beautiful blue but it hasn't a hood
God bless Nana and make her good.
Mine has a hood and I lie in bed
And pull the hood right over my head
And I shut my eyes and I curl up small
And nobody knows I'm there at all.
Thank you God for a lovely day
Now what was the other I had to say
I said bless Daddy so what can it be
Now I remember, it's God bless me."
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers
Droops on his little hands, little gold hair
Hush, hush, whisper who dares
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers
My mother used to sing this to me, and despite my rants of late it's still my favorite lullaby. I can e-mail you the song, if you want. It's been covered recently by someone named "Melanie."
There's also Billy Joel's "Goodnight My Angel" and Suzanne Vega's "The Queen and the Soldier." In fact, much Suzanne Vega is good and slow. There's a song called "Wiccan Lullaby" that is also very beautiful and, once you get past the name, mostly nondescript.