We play music as white noise in Babygirl's room. Our walls are paper thin, our dogs are large and bark-happy, and occasionally we enjoy having conversations in the living room (adjacent to her bedroom).
At first, I thought it would be sweet and meaningful to have her dream to the sounds of her Daddy's cd - the music that he played the day I met him, while he courted me, and that he performed on our wedding day. After 3 weeks straight of rocking my newborn to sleep - grinding my teeth to the songs I had once adored...I changed the cd out.
Now, we use a "Baby Songs" cd. No words, just music. The songs would probably be familiar to those with more of a higher-brow taste in music than myself. The cd was admittedly re-gifted from a friend. Still in plastic wrap. Whatever. It works. In the rush of morning prep, we often forget to turn the cd off. It just plays and plays. I find myself getting agitated as I settle in for work - to realize the music (which has been playing over the baby monitor all night) is no longer necessary.
I revel in the silence.
Last week, and my work conference, I was walking to the first meeting of the first morning of the first day. I had just disemboweled my self-esteem, and was doing my best not to look self abused. This emotional black eye? I fell down the stairs...really.
I dismounted the elevator that paused a little too long before beginning its 10 floor decent (I had decided that I'd eat one piece of gum an hour until the rescue team freed me), and tried to not look intimidated by the immense hotel. I round the first corner and one of Babygirl's songs is playing in the lobby.
Nothing apocalyptic - I didn't drop into fetal position or anything - my eyes welled. It was the first real emptiness I had felt without her on this trip.
Of course, that wasn't the only time I cried that morning. The opening session had something in the air to which my eyes were reacting. Really. Allergies. Well, that at the dude sitting near-sidesaddle in the chair beside me had apparently eaten 2 raw onions for breakfast and washed them down with a pot of coffee.
My eyes were killing me!
And then...it happened.
They played a slideshow-set-to-music montage. SHIT!
I don't care where I am - who I'm with - how long it took me to do my eye makeup - or even if I have a relationship with the subjects of the pictures...if you flash more than three pictures while playing a song -- my sappy ass cries. EVERY TIME.
Remember Full House? (Shut up, you know you watched it) They had the montages of the kids growing up...
I would have to excuse myself from the dinner table because it would send me into convulsions.
Anyway, I did a mad dash into my "happy place" - which involves diverting my eyes from the screen and singing the alphabet in reverse order. Yes singing (in my head).
Yes, I'm a freak. You and I both know that. Everyone in my profession across the nation doesn't need to know it! :)
It worked - for the most part. Onion Breath had me dabbing my eyes from the moment we all sat down, so any additional tears were probably undetected.