A Good Kind of Tired

Wow. It's been a REALLY long time since my last post.

Well, mostly it's been more of the same... which is a good thing. No major disasters, no crises to speak of. I did teach my first Musicare classes, and then went very well, but I think I'll save reporting on those until my next one.

I just wanted to remark on something that happened today. Well, really it's today in general. I began the day at 10:00 AM when I showed up to work to set up the KidStage show and get ready for my music program up in PlaySpace. I didn't get home until 8:15, one music program and seven KidStage shows later. That's right, seven - five during the day, two at night. Each fifteen to twenty-five minutes long, with just enough downtime in between to lose all my adrenaline.

I was, I will admit, not looking forward to the experience last night. It's not that I didn't want to do it, I just knew it would knock me out.

Funny thing about my job, though. Every time I was on stage, whether it was show one or show six, I had fun. And every time, there was at least one moment I wouldn't have missed for the world - one child who was hearing people applaud for him for the very first time, one baby clapping his hands to the music, one sheepish adult who turned the "pig house" umbrella inside out by accident. Sure, there were moments I was dragging in the dust, but all of them were in between shows.

I have the best career in the world.

I am, of course, human, and starting to go fuzzy-eyed even as I type this. I'm looking forward to popping in my Netflix DVD and heating up a mug of hot cider. And I am looking forward to having Sunday off. But really... wow. My job is awesome.

CMN Conference

I spent this past weekend at the Children's Music Network annual national conference.

Keep in mind that "conference" is merely the best word we've been able to agree on to define the event. It used to be called a "gathering," but my understanding is that people thought "conference" sounded more professional.

Ah, how we have fooled them.

There is a good deal of conference-ing involved. We do go to workshops and discuss issues in children's music. But it is also part "summer" camp, part retreat, part secret society and part family reunion.

I suppose it is unusual when one attends a national conference, to already know about 80% of the people attending. Or to get half a dozen hugs just walking from your hotel room to dinner. Or for conversation at that dinner to include a rhyme-a-thon reminiscent of "The Princess Bride." Okay, I know it is unusual. But I will also bet that we have a lot more fun that way.

Here are some highlights from my Conference Experience:
- As mentioned above, a dinnertime rhyme-a-thon with Steve Zelin (check him out at 0:52)
- Alvin McGovern turning "Billy Boy" into a song about pirates. (Well, it WAS national talk-like-a-pirate day.)
- 9-year-old Taelor regaling us all at the bonfire with tales of her teachers, including one who has spiders and snakes in the classroom. Eww.
- My less-than-successful attempt to teach the "Alley-Alley-O" dance to the Play Party Games workshop group. We got rather tangled. On the other hand, "Head and Shoulders, Baby" and "Draw Me a Bucket of Water" were both big hits - these were songs I taught at workshops in the past year and were requested again. Gotta love that.
- Singing a few of my favorites at the lullaby workshop
- Astounding the crowd with my ability to rhyme the word "purple"
- Late-night Tom Hunter songs and the dance party that followed
- Doing the snowman dance at Fran McKinney's singing and reading workshop
- Getting to sing the "Thousand Legged Worm" at the early childhood songswap
- Singing Bill Harley songs at the Magic Penny presentation
- Kathy Reid-Naiman leading us all through "We'll Pass them On" at the closing circle

And, of course, the unbelievable warmth and support that you feel when surrounded by some of the most loving people on the planet for two and a half days. There's nothing like it. And next year...

"Carolina in '09!"

(Yes, it's already a song. We're CMN - we can't help it!)

A Good Set

I had a really good gig at the Museum yesterday.

Successes never make as good stories as, say, flying microphones, but it is important to acknowledge what one does well. So here goes.

My voice wasn't exactly in rare form, I have to admit. I hadn't been too kind to it over the week, and I was struggling. But the interaction part of the performance was great! Families were singing along, making rooster sounds, waving their hands in the air when prompted, and singing "by yourselves" when it was their turn. Which I took as a good sign.

"Little Peter Rabbit" (starts at 2:20) was fun, although some of the adults didn't seem quite too sure what to make of it. I'm always mildly amused that I get such an enthusiastic response for NOT singing...although, in my defense, I'm NOT singing in a coordinated fashion. (Although it's less impressive than when 3 people are doing it at the same time, as in the video.)

I finally figured out how to sing "Tingalayo" (yes, same video) without losing enthusiasm for the hand motions. I invited the kids up on stage to do the motions with me, and I got about eight helpers. They seemed to enjoy it, and I was loving it too. AND - bonus - the parents in the audience were waving and clapping right along with us, to help their kids remember what to do. They were engaging with each other and the kids, I hope, had a chance to feel empowered. End of buzzwords.

We did "Do Your Ears Hang Low," and one little boy was singing the end of each line as loud as could be! It was great. And everyone was doing the motions along with me.

Most of the crowd dispersed after "Five Little Chickadees," about 20 minutes into the half hour. Which I considered a great sign - at the BCM, most people don't hang around in one place for long. The fact that they stayed that long I took as a huge compliment! So, I had two families for my last three songs. Two little girls, around 3, and two adults each. We did "Tommy Thumb," and the one on my left was loving it. I can't find a video of this one, but one of the verses is:

"Dance them on your shoulders, dance them on your head,
Dance them on your knees, then tuck them into bed."

This little girl sang "head" - right out loud, every time! It was marvelous. Then we did "Going to Kentucky" and I got this girl and her family to come up and dance with me. I closed with "Hush Little Baby" and it was lovely.

And get this - I had an actual microphone! And a mic stand - and when I got there, someone was setting up chairs. And they took it all down for me when I was done.

It's really nice to be treated like a professional.

Cue the Chinese Dancers

Today was supposed to be my day playing in the Common. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Boston Children's Museum, the Common is the main area on the second floor.) I was excited - I'd done several PlaySpace gigs in a row, and while those are always fun, I was looking forward to playing for the older kids. I show up, climb the stairs and the performance area was already set up. Couldn't have been for me...I don't think any of the floor staff - or anyone except my direct supervisor - knows my schedule.

Nope. "Oh, we have Chinese dancers coming in."

"What time?" I ask.
"10:30."

Of course. Cause 10:30 is the time I'm supposed to start. So I wander around the floor, looking for a space to set up. Can't set up in the art Gallery, where I used to play before I moved to the Common - there's a weaving exhibit there now and no room for me. So I went to PlaySpace and played for the bitties.

Only about four of them. But still, considering I had no plan except for the program I'd put together for my last PlaySpace session, it didn't go too badly. And, hey...I can use my Common program for NEXT Saturday. Bonus!!

Striking the Balance

This week, I took a two-and-a-half-day vacation. That may not sound like much, but I've been working more or less nonstop lately. So nearly three days off was a BIG deal. I willed myself not to think about work, and trust me, it wasn't easy. I was at the beach. I went swimming, shopping, fell asleep to the sound of the ocean, read books in bed and on the lawn with the waves lapping at the shore.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love what I do, and I consider myself extremely lucky to be able to do it and get paid to boot. But I realized as I was driving home that I have been focusing entirely on my work for a very long time. So much so, actually, that I had forgotten what it was like to just be me. Without the guitar and shaker eggs. I knew that making a success of my career in children's music was still a priority...but light was beginning to dawn that it shouldn't be my ONLY one. I vowed to change that.

It is now 7:15. I got home from work at 4 pm. As soon as I got home, I went straight to my bookshelf and pulled out my songbooks, desperate to find some new songs that would work with the youngest kids - 0 to 3 year olds, my PlaySpace crowd. About 10 minutes ago I looked up and realized that I was still working.

That's right, I had been working since I got home from work. And if I didn't do something soon, I might be working until I went to bed. I went to the computer to write this post...and immediately googled "fingerplays."

Oops.

Make no mistake. I am proud of my commitment to my work. I am proud of the work that I do. And I do everything I can to make each show a success. But I fear that if I don't have a life outside of it, I will place TOO much importance on each show, and my fear of any failure at all will cripple me. Not only will it zap my energy and paralyze my voice, but it will make those inevitable little flops - a missed chord here, a mixed-up verse there - make me feel like a failure as a person.

On the other hand, if I have a life and enjoy it, I can relax and have fun with my music programs instead of freaking out about whether I'm good enough. And if I stop freaking out, I have a sneaking suspicion that the result will be more fun not just for me, but for the kids and parents as well. After all, the songs I do that are the best received are generally the ones I enjoy the most.

I cannot tell a lie. I know I'll do a bit more work before I go to bed tonight. But I promise, that is not all I will do.

My Disaster Story

I don't know much about sound systems. But I do know this.

Your microphone pack is not supposed to fly off of your body in the middle of a performance, hit the floor and split into two parts. I am sure of this.

OK, OK. I MAY have clipped my battery pack to a quarter-inch string of ribbon on the front of my dress. I MAY have had it like that when I got to the part in "Going to Kentucky" where you "turn around and turn around until you make a stop." Only in my case, it was "...turn around and turn around and---- uh oh."

The "uh oh" was the point where the pack spun off of my body, unclipping the lav mic from my collar. The pack hit the floor and split in two.

Now, it could have been a lot worse. It could have hit a kid. Or a parent. Or a grandparent. It didn't. It just hit the floor. But I didn't think of that. I simply stared at the casualty that had resulted from my enthusiastic spinning.

I picked up the microphone and a dad in the front row promptly leapt to his feet as well. I turned on the mic and it still worked. Fortunately, the pack had broken where it was designed to; the cover had just come off. But there was a latch on the pack and I couldn't put it back on my own. I had decided to clip the pack to my guitar strap and keep going and deal with the problem later. But this dad was determined to help me, bless him. He fiddled with the pack and I watched over his shoulder as my audience started to leave.

"It's OK, it's OK," I said, "I'll fix it later."

He insisted he could do it. So I waited as he slid the pieces back together and returned the pack to me. I continued with the set, praying that the families who had left would be replaced with more. I did a few songs with hand claps and when I picked up the guitar again, I clipped the pack to the strap.

It lasted for three or four more songs. Then, as I was asking the children if their ears hung low, my microphone decided to do just that. It dropped and shattered again, in the same place.

Engineer Dad to the rescue - he decided to concoct a system where the pack would be firmly attached to the guitar strap. I saw people begin to leave again, so I improvised a few verses of "Ears" as he worked. Seriously - made 'em up on the spot. "Can you clap your hands, can you clap them on your head..." Not too bad, considering the circumstances. (Engineer Dad was still standing to my left, holding the mic to my face as he twisted the cord around.)

When the mic was finished, I decided to go on to another hand-clapping song. Which is when I discovered that I couldn't put the guitar down. The cord was wrapped around the strap. That's where it starts to get blurry. Flustered and embarrassed, I tried to control my wavering voice, at the same time as I attempted to figure out whether or not the microphone was actually working. And at the same time as I prayed that the parents in the back weren't thinking, "What's wrong with this person??"

This happened less than a week ago - last Saturday, to be specific. It's almost funny by now. And it already makes a good performance-disaster story. (Right?) At the time, I wanted to find a nice little hole to hide in for a few hundred years... but I'm getting over it.

And heck - it's kind of like a badge of honor or something. A kind of rite of passage, if you will.

Not at all proof that I forgot all about that silly thing called gravity.

A "Theme" Gig

Today I did my first "theme" gig. As in, "Today is Teddy Bear's Picnic Day, could you sing some bear-related songs?"

Of course I said "sure." Then I went home and thought "Well, I know OF a bunch of bear songs...but I don't actually know how to PLAY them."

This was about a month ago.

Cramming time. Now, if I could devote the bulk of my day to learning new songs, not only would I be thrilled, but things like this would be a lot easier. Unfortunately, I do have at least four other jobs currently, so I have to plan very carefully. And, occasionally, cram.

So, I learned them. I learned "Teddy Bear's Picnic," of course, and several more. Most courtesy of Sandy, at the Musicare celebration. Although my personal favorite of the day, "Waltzing with Bears," I learned at a grownup folk music party recently. All went relatively well, judging from people's reaction and the response I got from the store manager. Granted, I always walk away thinking of where there is room for improvement, but I'm working on that. Cause let's face it, focusing on my shortfalls does not lead to confidence in performance.

So, the verdict on doing a "theme" gig? Good. Good for my work in general, since I learned some new songs I can go on and use in other situations. Good for my programs, since I learned I can take a chance and sing a "new" song, provided I work in openings for participation.

That was another thing I figured out in preparing for this gig. Most of these songs were ones that people don't necessarily know, like "Waltzing." So I did something that I've been hearing others do my whole life - I sang the chorus multiple times, leaving out a word here and there that I knew the crowd would remember and be able to fill in. Like I said, I'd heard people do that a hundred thousand times. But this was the first time I actually tried it myself - and the weird thing is, I didn't realize I had heard it done until I tried it while rehearsing. Bizarre. But you know what? It worked!!