Walking in the park and reminiscing

Yesterday, the ball of fire and I were wasting away in the house to avoid the lung-destroying humidity, and I proposed an art project.

As a general rule, my son likes art projects -- as long as there is no project involved. He prefers to just cut and color willy nilly. I do my best not to impose my artistic standard on his creativity. Although, I do throw in some education here and there, such as writing his name on the paper and then asking him to trace it. He can spell it but not write it, but we're getting there.

While we're working, I always throw on a CD for mood music. I almost always have the radio playing when we're home, even when we're outside. My favorite punk radio station is not always the best for little ears, so I'll toss in a CD when he's spending a lot of time by the radio.

Yesterday it was Billy Joel's 52nd Street. This is such a great CD and the songs have some strong memories for me.

Saturday mornings, my mom would always listen to music when she cleaned house. Sometimes it was just the radio, but more often it was one of her favorite artists like Billy Joel. You could hear her singing quietly while she mopped or dusted. And then sometimes my dad would come in and sing loudly in his baritone for a few bars before he went back outside.

Some of my most prevelant memories involve music -- parties at my Aunt Carol's house, listening to Marshall Tucker or the Allman Brothers or introducing my little brother to "Mr. Tinkertrain" by Ozzy Osbourne.

As I sat there, coloring with colored pencils, I sang "Only the Good Die Young" at the top of my voice, and my son smiled at me and said, "love you, momma."

I hope this is what he remembers: art projects, music and an abundance of hugs and kisses.

Hopefully that will erase the occassional incidents where I "pee" in my pants...