“Every sleepy boy and girl in every bed around the world can hear the stars up in the sky whispering a lullaby.” - Mary Chapin Carpenter
I’m not a person with a tremendously long list of ambitions, but I do hope to be a mom someday. I don’t really worry about my own future mothering kills because I have a great mom. She’s like champagne: Light, effusive, effervescent. She’s fabulous. She was not, however, a lullaby-singing mom. We listened to a lot of stuff from her high school years (Fleetwood Mac, Bad Company, Van Morrison), stuff from her twenties (U2, Tears for Fears), traditional 90s fare (Pearl Jam, The Red Hot Chili Peppers), ill-advised favs (Go West, Hall and freaking Oates), and always, always Neil Young (and thank God for that). Good stuff for the most part, but zero lullabies, so I’m always on the search for sweet little tunes to sing to my (potential) future children. While watching the film “Evening” the other night, I finally found my lullaby. Aw. Also, “yay”! And then “aw” again.
