A few weeks ago, my aunt and I were chatting about random memories from raising her three girls, and she started talking about Baby Beluga.
"Baby what?" I asked.
Her mouth dropped. "You've never heard of Baby Beluga?"
I shook my head.
"Sounds familiar," I answered, "I think I've heard it on their Pandora station..."
"Ohhh, you have got to hear it! My girls grew up on Baby Beluga!"
"I want to hear it!" I said. "I'll look it up."
Then, a few weeks later at Kindermusik, Miss Shira pulled out the Baby Beluga book and started singing. It was a clever song about a sweet little white whale, and again I tried to make another mental note to look it up. And forgot.
Fast forward to Sunday, and we're visiting again, this time for my high school reunion. My aunt came to pick my mom up for a quick trip to Vegas to tour a huge home decorating expo (at least that's what they said, uh huh). She pulled a CD out of her purse and said, "I just had to order this for the girls."
It sat on the kitchen counter for the past two days, and every time I walked by, I thought about how I should unwrap it and have a listen. And then forgot.
Now this morning, I walk by and I don't forget. It's THE morning; the time feels right and I think the girls are ready for a 7:00 a.m. dance party/distraction.
As soon as the music starts, Afton claps her hands and bounces up and down. Ruthie puts her arms out, fists clenched, and waves them like she's flying. They both start to sing.
"Ahh ahhh ahhh ahh ahhhhh!"
I clap my hands with them and sway dramatically to the music, imitating their baby dance.
This is one of those small but meaningful (and frequent) instances where I realize how fortunate it is that my girls are growing up in a tight knit family - a village - that loves my littles as their own. It may be a distant and widely spread village that covers many miles, but it's a village nonetheless, and there is always something new to learn from those who have gone before me.
There are things I don't know, no matter how much "research" I do, and the answer may come from someone right next to me. I used to pride myself on being self-sufficient and independent. Having twins will snap this spirit like a dry twig.
So I take freely advice given out of love. Sometimes it's spot on, and sometimes I tuck it away, perhaps to use later, or not at all. But I'm thankful for it. Especially when I learn about life-changing kid music that doesn't make me want to gouge my eyes out.
Like Raffi says, "All I really need is a song in my heart, food in my belly, and love in my family."
Listen to Baby Beluga: