Nobody ever said raising kids would be easy. But what makes child-rearing even tougher is when you have a passion you just can't deny.
My passion is music.
My life is my kids.
How to combine the two? That's the challenge I face every day.
Last night is a good example of why rock 'n' roll and kids don't always mix. Roland (my other half in love, life and music) and I participated in an 'open mic' session on Orcas Island, where we're staying and promoting
the new album. We make a point of going as often as we can, or in other words, when we can afford a babysitter. We played and jammed and strengthened our relationships with some of the fine musicians on the island, and by the time we crawled into bed, it was going on 2am.
Kids don't give a hoot about what time their parents goes to bed. As often as I explain to them how tired mama is, they have an agenda that clearly takes priority over mine. Even going to the bathroom is something I can do only under their close supervision. At 7am, it's time to color, play games, read stories and eat at least three bowls of Cheerios. Fortunately, I am so trained in these activities that I can perform them even in a zombie-like state without them even noticing. I mean, I have yet to put coffee in the Cheerios instead of milk, for example.
But a good night making music outweighs the discomfort of a little sleep deprivation any day.
Rehearsing is another story. Our kids are musical, which is no surprise since they've been hearing it since they were in the womb. When we make music, they see it as an invitation to make music too, which is awesome, but again, a challenge. Recently, when Roland and I wanted to go through some tunes before a gig and test some PA gear, the kids leapt on the opportunity to join in. My son decided the microphone was his and no one else's ever, and seeing that sharing is still a foreign concept to him, there was simply no way I was going to get a turn to sing in it.
Assuming a three and a four-and-a-half year old will simply sit there and listen for an extended period of time while we practice is a huge mistake, one that most certainly leads to frustration and dismay. So a serious rehearsal can really only take place in one situation: a gig.
When we have a gig, it means the kids will be in the very loving, capable hands of
someone else: preferably Grandma and Grandpa, but otherwise, a very awesome babysitter. Roland has his hands free to actually play the guitar, I don't have to share the mic with a three-year-old, and no one needs their nose wiped or help going to the potty.
It comes down to this: I wouldn't change being a Mom for anything, but I'm a singer too. Last night, I love my kids, but I had to sing. Right now, I love my music, but I have to go play Barbies.
