“It’s just you and me, kiddo,” I say, as she hops into the front seat with a shy smile.
“Hey, Mom! Can we hit up Starbucks?” she asks.
I can’t help but smile back and agree. The grocery store can wait. She’s about to turn 13, and lately, I’ve felt a pressing urgency to make the most of our time together. Frappuccinos it is!
As she flips through SiriusXM searching for the pop hits, she lands on 80s on 8. Just as I catch the opening beats of a familiar tune, she skips to the next station.
“Wait! Go back!” I exclaim.
It’s Michael Jackson’s “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’.” I crank the volume up, and the funky beat pulsates through the steering wheel. My body instinctively starts to move as I belt out the lyrics with wild enthusiasm. When a song I adore plays, I can’t resist singing it like a true rock star.
But it wasn’t always like this.
I lost my voice years ago, in the backseat of my childhood 1980 mustard yellow Toyota wagon. At 11, I was just on the brink of the awkward teenage phase that would soon make me too self-conscious to speak up in class or wear a swimsuit. I remember singing along to Eddie Rabbitt’s “Love a Rainy Night” when my mom gently asked, “Can you please be quiet?”
Now, as a mom myself, I totally get it. Sometimes, you just need a moment of silence to navigate the chaos of driving without crashing into the car ahead or missing that crucial turn. But back then, I took her request to heart and thought it meant I had a less-than-stellar singing voice. I decided to keep my musical aspirations to myself, and my natural shyness, coupled with the tumultuous changes of puberty, made that choice seem wise.
In junior high, I was roped into the chorus due to a shortage of altos, but I stood at the back and lip-synced my way through. In high school, when friends would start singing “Roxanne” at parties, I’d either stuff my face with snacks or awkwardly sit away from the group. College brought some moments of belting out tunes, but usually, I was too tipsy to care about hitting the right notes. Even while pregnant, I read all those parenting books that touted the benefits of singing to your baby in utero, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I wish I could say there was one defining moment that helped me find my voice again, but it was more like a series of moments. Some I longed for, like when my soon-to-be-husband and I broke into a duet of “Killer Queen,” stitching our relationship closer together. Others caught me by surprise, like discovering that my voice had the magical ability to soothe my restless firstborn and calm my frazzled new mom heart. And then there were those hard-earned moments when I gathered the courage to perform on stage with an incredible group of moms from my daughters’ school last year.
Now, here I am in the car, feeling that rush of excitement as I lean into the music, elbows out and shaking my head—what my friends and I fondly refer to as The Car Dance. As I dive into the chorus, I sneak a glance at Mia. She’s giving me that classic teen look of exaggerated amusement mixed with a hint of embarrassment.
“C’mon! I know you know the words!” I holler over the music. She rolls her eyes, but just when I think she’ll leave me hanging, she breaks into a massive grin and joins me, arms flailing and hips swaying. There’s a glow in her when she sings, something that radiates joy and confidence, and I hope she never loses that spark.
This little jaunt down memory lane reminds me of how important it is to embrace our voices, literally and figuratively. If you’re exploring the world of home insemination, check out this fantastic resource for pregnancy and home insemination information. And if you’re looking for a reliable artificial insemination kit, it’s a great place to start. For further insights, feel free to browse our terms and conditions for even more information.
In summary, rediscovering my voice has been a journey filled with small moments of joy and courage, and I hope to inspire others to embrace their voices too.