This past Saturday my band and I had a gig. (I always feel funny using the word "gig" and I am not sure why. Anyone with a hypothesis on this please feel free to share.) Anyway, this particular gig day started out much like any other. Woke up nice and late to be well rested, took a leisurely walk around the neighborhood while listening to my band's play list on an ipod, had a protein-filled breakfast, did some yoga to loosen up my muscles, laid out four or five outfits and tried them all on to see which one looked the best, took a nap, took a very long and steamy shower to loosen the vocal cords, and then took my time getting ready. Left nice and early.
OK, now for reality.
Woke up to the usual fussing about breakfast, clothes, and life in general, went to White Post Farm and spent a small fortune so my youngest could take her long awaited photos with Wubzy and Max (if you have to ask, nevermind), went grocery shopping, fed the kids, cleaned up, and about an hour before I had to leave figured it was probably time to hit the shower, after which I hoped that the shirt I bought would work with whatever jeans fit the best. Left about 15 minutes later than I had planned (not half bad) and on the way did last minute cramming for the songs that I forget the words to. (For those of you wondering, the shirt worked with the jeans, gotta love black.)
Let's flash back for a moment to the summer of 2009. A high school friend and I had gotten back in touch through, what else, Facebook, and discussed starting a cover band. I have always been a wanna-be rock star. I grew up idolizing Pat Benatar (still do, that is a subject for a whole other blog). Growing up I was always in the chorus, the church folk group, and the high school musicals (which were nothing like the Disney versions.) However, I was always in the background, never the one to have a solo. I never even had one speaking word in those musicals. So, the idea of being the lead singer in a band, though exciting, was also a bit terrifying. Could I do it? Would they all laugh at me like Carrie at the prom? My friend and I didn't know much at first, including who would be in our band. We thought we might have to put an ad in a paper (scarey!!) However, the gods of rock were looking out for us. Three other friends from high school joined us, and the band was born.
Last summer we had our first gig, and we are still going strong. I am extremely thankful that I have gotten the chance to live out my rock 'n roll fantasies in my 40's, while at the same time showing my girls that it is never too late to do what you love and follow a dream. I love the fact that my 7 year old played harmonica with us at an outdoor show, and my 3 year old might be the only 3 year old who knows most of the words to Blondie's "One Way or Another." When we get in the car they will often ask for "mommy's music", and they get excited if we are out in public and they hear one of the songs the band covers. While this will certainly change once they hit those tween years, for now, their mom is cool, and I will bask in that glory for as long as it lasts!
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