Aselin

My marriage was a total shock. Not so much that someone would actually marry me, rather the ease at which I thought I would take to married life was not anything like I had envisioned. Mind you, this was entirely hubby's fault.

During our courtship he was a master of writing witty, on the spot songs that would capture the moments we were enjoying. He would sing them to patrons in a restaurant, leave them on my voicemail at work, sing them to my friends in person. He became quite famous for his spontaneous witty lyrics with melodies. They were endearing, funny, sweet, and had just the right amount of social awkwardness to bring out the little bitty amount of coy I have hidden away.

So, of course, after a magical proposal in the Taco Bell drive thru on 40th street we quickly wed and launched into what was sure to be an eternity of bliss. For him. The first morning of our honeymoon I was awakened at 5:30 a.m. to the blasting of the shower against the plastic curtain and the vocal stylings of a very happy groom. Two lungs blaring he was belting out his newest creation which contained refrains of "I'm maaaaaarried! "She's maaaaaaarried" She can't run, run, awaaaaaaay beeeeecauuuuseee we're maaaaaarrrried!!!" There were actions that went with the lyrics, but he was in the shower so I'll spare you.

Now, his joy was exuding all over our tiny little Banff Springs Hotel room. I, ever the yang to this yin, was sucking all his energy into the black hole of my 'non morningness" All I could barely glean from the torturous situation was there was some evil being in the shower, singing at an ungodly hour and he must be dealt with. It was only by the grace of God that I wasn't on the Banff evening news that night.

Hubby popped out of the shower wrapped in a towel and a smile only to take a frightened stumble back when he saw me. Some sort of Medusa had obviously eaten his bride, 'cause the monster in the bed wasn't the girl he knew famous for her toothy smile. No, the one in the bed was snarling something that sounded like "The- sun- is- not- up. You, - must, - be, - QUIET" The monster didn't yell, but the grave firmness in its voice made the room go cold.

The poor sad little warbler realized that if he ever wanted to see his beloved again, he would have to take his morning singing elsewhere.

I didn't care where it went, it just needed to go elsewhere, far, away. I was completely fine if he buried it in his heart only to have it surface as an ulcer later. Morning singing was a marriage breaker.

So it did and we've lived happily ever after.

As our children have aged they have begun to display the genetic need to create their own personal soundtrack. It's such a joy to hear them working out harmonies, lyrics and witticisms that show a definite talent in the area. If they can't work in fast food as teenagers, they can definitely work in commercial jingles. As long as the appropriate work, usually the subject of the song, is being completed I encourage the creative forays.

We've had songs about unloading the dishwasher, "I've got a knife, fork and spoon they're gonna be in a drawer real soon, Mr. knife, Mrs. fork and little baaby spoon."

Preparing for swimming lessons - "Oh I wish I was a fishy in the sea... I'd be swimmin' in the nuudie with out my swimming suitie, oh I wish I was a fishy in the sea!"

Songs about the dog using the lawn as his personal urinal - "I looked out the window and what did I see? Sanook going to the lawn to pee. Dad came yelling with his arms in the air, Sanook just looked at him and peed right there. There he took a tinkle on the ground, Dad went crazy running all around. It wasn't really so, but it seemed to me, Sanook going to the lawn to pee."

It's amazing Broadway hasn't been calling. So last night I was trying to get ready for bed when my kids nestled on the floor. They were up to no good as usual. Kicking Thing #1 and Thing#2 to bed, Unnamed child #1 began to sing a bluesy little number that, were it not for the subject matter, might actually have been reproducible. "Iiiiii'm going tinkle in my parent's pottie, the pottie that was cleaned just today. IIII'mmm going tinkle in my parent's potty, here's where my pee will stay."

Is it appropriate to say "holy crap"? to this stuff or is that dangerously skirting a pun? The song had four verses. It went through various uses of the parent's pottie, a few key changes and minor chords. While I was wincing through a lot of the content, I did remember that not too long ago I paid $70 a ticket to watch the award wining musical "Urinetown" at Gammage. And, in full disclosure, I did enjoy it and pictured my father in the role of the police officer.

As the kids are going to bed tonight, Unnamed child #2 is singing Pavarottiesque opera, Unnamed child #3 is singing church songs they learned from Unnamed child #1... way off key, and the leader of the pack is belting out a reprisal of last night's toilet tune - this time the spotlighted potty has changed, but the events are the same.

Oh, the soundtrack of my life...coming soon to a WalMart near you.