Confession: I could be the worst singer alive. In the BC (before children) era there were only approximately half a handful of times I ever sang in public. Two, of the two and a half times I sang in public were during my college years and included karaoke bars, way too much alcohol and all too eager “friends” coaxing me on stage. (You know who you are)
My AC (after having children) era has been filled with music. Thankfully, my music critics are a lot friendlier than the Simon Cowells of the world– and much cuter for that matter. My stage is often filled with other mothers, who also aren’t all too excited to be belting out Wheels on The Bus. My audience is my tiny little arm candies that can’t get enough of the off pitch vocals coming out of my mouth and those unlucky enough to be stuck in the car with me when an arm candy meltdown occurs. God bless you all.
Last night, was date night. My darling hubs and I had plans to see the gorgeous, hilarious and incredibly talented Harry Connick, Jr at a local winery. As I was trying to get my darling daughter to bed so we could head out to see Harry, I received an encore of my own. The encore included screams and tears, similar to that of a Justin Bieber concert. However, my darling daughter’s tears were easily soothed by my pitchy version of Twinkle, Twinkle and Favorite Things. My resume includes many titles, but as of today, I will be adding Rock Star to the list. Thanks to the incredible Connick for inspiring a new repertoire.
****Harry Connick, Jr= AMAZING! Definitely an Arm Candy Confessions must see!