I am really not much of a singer. I can hardly carry a tune. There's the lack of talent, the lack of practice, and the self-consciousness. Somewhere around my 40th hour of labor the self-conscious thing flew out the 6th floor delivery room window, so that was out of the way. Then, there was a delicious baby needing entertainment, so I'm getting a lot more practice. There's the lack of talent part, kind of stuck with that, but who cares? Really? See above re: 40th hour of labor.
One of the nice side effects of parenthood is how much I sing now. I'm all Wheels on the Bus in the middle of the grocery store (imagine!), all If You're Happy and You Know It walking around the neighborhood. Every night Jeff and I sing the ABC song to Bubba while we brush his delicious little baby teeth. My reedy untrained alto squeaks out the melody, and Jeff's trained, strong, healthy, bassy voice makes magic harmony. Sometimes he makes it sound jazzy, others like chamber music. Sometimes oompa loompa-y, sometimes like a hymn. Sometimes we make it fast, sometimes we drag it out. If Bubba resists, we stop until he is ready again...Q, R, S, T--stop--okay, Q, R, S...We always sing it at least twice, and Bubba is transfixed the whole time and always makes the sign for "more" when we finish.
It is often the most magical part of my day. We are squarely a team during those moments. We need each other, we help each other. We bring out the best in each other. We make something better than either one of us could make alone. We make each other stronger. We make our son happy. We make brushing teeth something to look forward to. Just for those moments, we rock.