My side gig.

Stevie I may not be, but a wonder I am

1.       Dugi dugi dug dug- wagi wagi wag wag *till you get tired.

2.       Dugi dugi waga waga*till you get tired (Kinda goes like “Boom boom chakalaka”)

3.       Baby ya maaaaam-*till you get tired.

4.       Sing K, K,K  if K is your name,

    Sing K, K,K  if K is your name,

    You can say it oncey, oncey,

    Or say it twicy, icy,

    Sing K, K,K  if K is your name.

5.       Babi babi bab-bab*till you get tired.

These are just some of the songs to my credit, never mind that the tunes may be wholly or partially borrowed from popular sing along’ s. I know my husband and my friends would readily discredit my talent for singing but in my son’s eyes, am the best singer songwriter. Mozart has nothing on mommy. My husband swears I would be slapped with a copyright infringement lawsuit if any singer songwriter ever heard me give my rendition of their songs. I wish I was altering their master pieces intentionally but God knows my vocal chords are so rigid that the only sort of variation they accommodate is either the lowering or raising of my voice.     

The naysayers aside, I am proud to declare that my son, God bless him, is my number one fan- for now at least. Together we make the ultimate super music group of the singer song writer and clapper (that’s K’s job- clapping to mommy’s awesome compositions).

You see, today I want to celebrate mums for being the unappreciated creative artists; for the many stories we give that go unpublished; for the many songs that remain unsung; for the many ways (trickery or bribery)that we have invented to calm our kids down. We are innovators and inventors. I will prove it to you:

You see, to calm my son down, I hum the tune to the twelve days of Christmas song…it’s not that he anticipates being given a gifts, rather, that is our “tickle song”. (Bet you didn’t know that existed). “On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me”……and he smiles because mummy tickles right about that point. When he’s crying and being all fussy.

To make him open his mouth to eat (So you know , food in his mouth is no guarantee that he will swallow it. But it’s a step), I sing use the line from Johny Johny yes papa, “open your mouth and say…”then he says ”a-a” and we put(stuff) food into his mouth. You see, the “a-a” bit has become part of him, he says it when hungry.

To make him give mummy some breathing space, I ask repeatedly, ”Where is baba?” And he immediately runs to his father…for a second or two, and then he comes back. Mama’s boy in the making, but hey, who’s complaining?

To sneak out of the house- I play don't you worry child by the Swedish House Mafia(The irony is crazy-right?) or Mov'it by King Julian and the Penguins of Madagascar. With these songs-leaving the house is easy A.

Who ever came up with peek-a-boo is a genius, and I bet a mother. See, Peek-a-boo is not only for comic relief but also gives mummy two seconds to hide whatever it she doesn’t want baby to see- money, phone; you name it-I’ll hide it in a jiffy.

To all mothers who got creative juices running- keep the stuff going.  When all is said and done, only our number one fans count; after all, you and I are EVERY WOMAN.