Posted by on Sep 1, 2012 in Uncategorized |

I’ve been a little busy and overwhelmed and blah-blah-blah the past couple of weeks, so I asked Mr. Phase Three of Life if he’d like to take some pressure off of me and guest blog in my space. Two of my favorite things about my husband is that 1. he is endearingly sentimental and 2. he is an amazing writer. So here he is, discussing something of significant value to both of us: the music of our home.

As a family, we dig music — especially when we’re congregating in the kitchen.

Ryan’s eating (or slopping stuff everywhere in place of eating), I’m fixing that evening’s dinner, and Meg is making dessert or crafting a blog about the quirks of life from the previous day(s).

It’s family time for us. And it always includes music emanating from the satellite radio and stereo hookup in the kitchen. We put on some tunes, sing along, try to get Ryan to join in and then break out in laughter when he doesn’t sing — instead, he opts to shuffle and sway in his highchair, making these hilarious toddler faces the entire time.

It warms my heart, because these moments remind me so much of my own childhood. For me, the music was an integral part of growing up. I vividly remember late weekend mornings spent listening to my father’s favorite music on the large stereo. Mom and Dad were busy cleaning and I was busy being a lazy, no-good adolescent.

Though it took me a while to get on board with the whole “chores” business, it didn’t take me nearly as long to get hooked on the songs and artists that provided such a powerful and lasting soundtrack for those weekend days — and eventually, beyond.

For example, there was this song that I still pop on jukeboxes to this very day:

Then there’s this classic rock tune, one that has become legendary among anyone who knows my father. Play it, and chances are good that he (and I, if I’m around) will launch into some of the best air bass guitar you’ll ever have the pleasure to witness.

And finally, we come to this one. Another song that my sister and I heard growing up. It took on added meaning when we became adults; heck, my sister and father had their father/daughter dance to this song at her wedding:

Sometimes, when we’re jamming as a family, I step back and wonder if years from now that Ryan will feel a connection to some of Mom and Dad’s favorites.

Will he one day share this song with his friends and tell stories about how goofy his parents were, dancing around and lip-synching to it:

Will he look back and cherish a song like this because of the smiles it put on our faces:

Will he decide to pass this song on to his own children, explaining the meaning and history of it to them:

All I can say is, I’m looking forward to one day finding out — and listening to those songs right there with him.