Princess For a Day

It was obviously the In Place for all princesses. Katie Holmes knew it and was there. So my forever-friend Ina and I, who had dressed up like princesses and danced in her basement long ago, took our grown-up daughters and pretended they were six again, like Suri.

The Sleeping Beauty is a timeless story and Tchaikovsky’s gorgeous music has made it into one of the world’s most beloved ballets, and the New York City Ballet created a magical world of dance and fairy tale. Every one of the thousands of little and big girls in the audience felt like they were dancing too, dreaming of a prince and falling into a hundred-year sleep right along with the beautiful Princess Aurora. The whole place, main floor and all five tiers of balconies, helped the dancers by humming along to the famous waltz---even those who didn’t know that they knew the melody hummed along.

This is Sophia, who dressed for the occasion and was the object of much admiration from young to old. She watched the two hours of dancing and music mesmerized, and she will never forget the experience.

Why spend hard-earned money on something like a ballet, even in the fifth tier balcony? Because, as Sophia’s mother knew, an experience like that becomes part of who we are. The more music, dance, art, and theater we expose our children to, the more they will integrate that world of high-quality imagination and creativity.  I remember clearly the first chamber music concert my parents took me to, dressed up and fidgeting until the flutist appeared.  Pure magic came out of a little silver tube! I begged for lessons and even long after I stopped playing I kept the instrument just because I loved it.

There is a Cycle of Appreciation: if you have some musical experience you can appreciate performances more, and when you see live performances you are inspired more to enjoy or even create it yourself. I think the same thing must happen with sports---by going to high-school basketball games with my son, my four year old granddaughter has an impressive understanding of the game. I firmly believe that she will be the first ballerina princess (tutu and all) to play center on her high school team.


Jane

www.ladylullaby.com

The Lullaby Angel

It was the first time in years I’d actually made it to bed before 10 p.m.  It’s always a goal, but somehow it doesn’t happen. Now, however, there was strong motivation: my toddler grandson who sometimes sleeps all night and sometimes doesn’t. You don’t fool around at these times—it’s a matter of survival.

Sure enough, after a few hours of sleep, I heard the battle cry: “Bubbie, Bubbie!”  While it was, thrillingly, recognition of the bond that we had formed---he remembered to call for me instead of his out-of-town parents---I resolved to not give in. It took eight minutes for this resolve to crumble. I went in and picked him up.

We sat in the big chair in his room and I rocked and hummed a lullaby. He settled down and I slowly moved to put him back in the crib. No way. Another lullaby, more settling, another move, more refusal. After a few rounds of this I lovingly but firmly put him back in his crib to scream it out. I admitted defeat, and questioning my right to the title of Lady Lullaby, I slunk out of the room.

Just then a 23-year-old angel appeared. Her name was Veronica, and we’d signed her on just in case this happened for four nights in a row. Young parents do this many nights in a row---I did too, once upon a time---but now this grandmother becomes a useless zombie after not sleeping for a couple nights. To save us all from that fate, the angel offered to take over.

I heard soft singing and the screams gradually turned to whimpers. As I started to relax and fully appreciate being horizontal, the singing continued and the whimpering grew quieter. Songs flowed on and on, one after another, until finally there was real quiet.

In the morning I hugged the angel and asked what she was singing all that time. She didn’t remember any lullabies, she said, so she just went through all the songs she knew: from high school and college musicals she’d been part of; the hit songs of her teen-age years; church hymns and fight songs; and finally all the music from “Les Mis,” sung lullaby style.

The words didn’t matter and the tunes didn’t matter---it was the sweetness, the joy of singing, the loving feelings, and the youthful endurance that came through. This is what the lullaby instinct is all about---this is the heart of lulling a baby to sleep.

And tonight, back in my own bed, I wish his parents---and all parents---patience, endurance, and a memory full of songs of all kinds.

Sweet dreams to young and old,

Jane

Tamales For St. Peter

As my four-year-old granddaughter and I were excitedly waiting for her very first ballet class at the YMCA to begin--purple leotard, pink tights in place---a young man was leaving the room after working out. He asked about the class, and then pulled out his cell phone to show me a picture of his beautiful six-month old daughter. “She’ll be dancing soon too,” he said proudly.

Because it’s what I do, I asked if he sings lullabies to his daughter.

“Oh yes,” he said, “I sing her lullabies in Spanish---the songs my mother sang to me when I was a baby in Mexico.”

“Perfect!” I replied. And it is. This is a wonderful and important gift to a child, passing along the songs of the previous generations.

Spotlight on Music agrees: “Apart from their obvious entertainment value, children's songs and games are often important vehicles for cultures to transmit important knowledge to next generation. Song lyrics or game actions might provide models for cultural customs or family and other social relationships.”

And like my new friend, families migrate, and the culture and the music of the new place will have an influence on the music that the immigrant brings to his new home. This is the nature of our global societies, and it will create new and exciting forms of music.

Similarly, music travels even when people don’t. In Mexico, for instance, because of the cultural influence of the United States, translations of children's songs from English to Spanish have become a part of the children’s music. Songs like "Itzi, bitzi arena" ("The Itsy, Bitsy Spider") and "Estrellita" ("Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star") are as popular in that Mexico as they are in the US.

Our job, in the midst of all this blending of cultures, is to also keep our cultural traditions strong by preserving the integrity of the precious songs that should be passed along to future generations. If you sing the songs that you heard as a child, your child will too.

There are hundreds of beautiful Mexican lullabies, but one of my favorites is “Arriba Del Ciela” (Above Heaven)

This lullaby has many elements. It tells a story about St. Peter wanting tamales, has some nonsense lullaby syllables to hush the baby to sleep, and then it gets to the bottom line:  “Go to sleep because I have chores to do!” Like in many lullabies, the sublime, the humorous, and the practical meet, as the mother gets a chance to dream, be playful, and then comes back to reality. In this version, though, we also have the child afraid that the parents will sell her/him to buy money for food---perhaps this is a common childhood fear, or perhaps it’s a sad nod to a world where such things really happen.

Here is a beautiful video of Claudia Martinez singing “Arriba Del Cielo”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=IdBEFtv5M_c

Above heaven they make tamales
Above heaven they make tamales
San Pedro heard about that and he ordered to bring the real ones
San Pedro heard about that and he ordered to bring the real ones
To the rorrun baby to the rorrun now
To the rorrun baby to the rorrun now
sleep lovely baby boy
sleep lovely baby boy
sleep lovely baby boy because I have things to do
sleep lovely baby boy because I have things to do
to whash your cloth diapers and go to sew
to whash your cloth diapers and go to sew
To the rorrun baby to the rorrun now
To the rorrun baby to the rorrun now
sleep lovely baby boy
sleep lovely baby boy
My dad and mom want to sell me
My dad and mom want to sell me
in exchange for chile and tomatoes that they want to eat
in exchange for chile and tomatoes that they want to eat
To the rorrun baby to the rorrun now
To the rorrun baby to the rorrun now
sleep lovely baby boy
sleep lovely baby boy

Arriba del cielo hicieron tamales
Arriba del cielo hicieron tamales
Lo supo San Pedro y mandó a traer los reales
Lo supo San Pedro y mandó a traer los reales
A la rorrun niño a la rorron cha
A la rorrun niño a la rorron cha
Duermete niñito de mi corazón
Duermete niñito de mi corazón
Duermete niñito que tengo que hacer
Duermete niñito que tengo que hacer
Lavar tus pañales, y ponerme a coser
Lavar tus pañales, y ponerme a coser
A la rorrun niño a la rorron cha
A la rorrun niño a la rorron cha
Duermete niñito de mi corazón
Duermete niñito de mi corazón
Mi papa y mi mama me quieren vender
Mi papa y mi mama me quieren vender
Por chile y tomates que quieren comer
Por chile y tomates que quieren comer
A la rorron niño a la rorron ya
A la rorron niño a la rorron ya
Duermete niñito de mi corazón
Duermete niñito de mi corazón

Sweet Dreams,

Jane

May Your Hands Always Be Busy

I apologize for not writing for a couple of weeks. With a new baby in the picture, I was experiencing a fraction of the lives that new live parents and remembered---it’s survival time. I admire and applaud you all.

Luxuries like writing or phone calls or washing your hair take second place to sleeping, eating, napping, doing enough laundry to have fresh onesies and burp cloths, sleeping, eating, and napping.

Even for a grandmother! After the first few days—reaping the good karma of having done the whole thing myself already years ago---I went back to my own place and the sleep part got back in order. That made it easier to do what is the natural order of the generations---helping with laundry, washing dishes, cooking (to be honest, this is not my strong suit but I’m really good at sushi takeout).

And with a second child there is the blessing of relaxed parents who are now grateful to let me do the good stuff—singing lullabies for an hour at a time (my best audience ever!), cuddling and giving a freshly pumped bottle so mom can take a that nap, changing diapers and gazing at this amazing creature, all the while hoping for the miracle of a smile right in my direction.

Grandparents now also get to pick up the big brother or sister from pre-school, because it’s a whole different thing to take a sometimes-sleeping-sometimes-crying baby along for that ride. So I did get the smile that I was looking for, two-year-old size!

To maximize that smile, a few days ago I took my guitar along and sang for the kids. They were surprisingly attentive, and after figuring out how to play guitar AND do the hand-motions for "Wheels on the Bus", I realized that anything in life is possible. The best part was that Annalise proudly sat right next to me and sang louder than anyone else, whether she knew the words or not.

So thank you to all new parents who have made us into grandparents, and as comedian Rita Rudner said, "Have children while your parents are still young enough to take care of them!"

To give the big picture, here is one of the best Bob Dylan songs, and maybe the best song ever, written for all generations:

Listen to "Forever Young":

Sweet dreams,
Jane

Welcome Home to Love

There are many parents who see their babies for the first time and feel like they already know them.

It might be because you’ve been planning, dreaming, and worrying about this new life for at least nine months, and maybe long before that. Collecting clothes and toys and creating a space in the house for another person. Going to the doctor to get a sneak preview and making sacrifices large and small, like giving up wine and sushi.

Or maybe there is something more to it—maybe it’s the genes that are familiar, or the DNA, or if you believe in reincarnation maybe you really did know each other before! If you have stories of feeling like you already knew your baby when he/she was born, please share them with us by making a comment below.

In any case, the baby arrives and it seems like a miracle. And grandparents can feel the same way, possibly with an even deeper understanding of the miracle. It’s the continuation of the family, the clan, the species. It’s a chance to take part in the renewal part of the cycle of life, a cycle that with passing years we have come to experience in its joys and sorrows.

Micah Barry Pitt was born to my son and daughter-in-law on May 29 (I did make it in time!) and I’m in love. He is the spitting (pun intended) image of my son when he was born, so on some level a feeling of familiarity is inevitable. I am very grateful that he is healthy, calm, and obviously brilliant, shown by his choice of families.

I helped out in the hospital so my daughter-in-law could get a little sleep. His heartbeat melted into mine as I held him in the rocking chair in the middle of the night, and in my mind I kept hearing the line from Ewan McCall’s timeless love song The First Time Ever “...like the trembling heart of a captive bird.” So vulnerable, so precious, so necessary.

The Grandmother Effect

Here I am in the Detroit airport, delayed. Apparently the crew forgot to show up. What are these people thinking? Don’t they know that I have a grandson being born any minute now?? He’s already nine pounds and, the doctor said, and he has big shoulders like his father and grandfather, so I figure he’s ready to come but is just waiting for his grandmothers to get there to greet him.

Baby Pitt and his mother Aviva

Grandmothering is the subject of some flashy new studies that show that it’s good for all generations to have grandmothers around. Did we need a study to know that? Other cultures know this, and fully respect grandparents, realizing that there is a specific purpose for the generations being together: the elders get to share their life experience and wisdom with the little ones, parents get some much-needed help with childcare, and the babies learn that the world is full of big people who know for a fact how miraculous they are.

I used to listen to my friends talking—no, glowing—about becoming grandparents. I have to admit I didn’t get it. I loved seeing babies and could smile silly smiles and coo with the best of them, but I didn’t really understand what they were talking about.

I had to experience for myself the feelings that came up when I witnessed my own DNA in the form of a small, blanketed bundle. And while changing a really messy diaper and eye contact was first made (okay, sign me up for diaper duty). And the first time there was a genuine smile meant just for me.

Something happens in the heart—literally. When I’m with my granddaughter I feel my heart glow and grow in some subtle way that I hadn’t felt since holding my own new babies. I don’t know if there are studies for that, but I know it’s real. New parents, ask your own parents if that isn’t their experience too—I bet it is if they stop to feel it.

And so, Delta Airlines, I really have to be there when he comes. I’ll let you all know if I make it in time!