Honk! the saxophone squawked as I held it just inches from my face. I winced. My five year old blew into the mouthpiece again, but thankfully didn’t produce any sound this time around.
“You made a noise! That’s great!” I cheered.
I flashed back to when I first started playing the saxophone in fifth grade. I was much older than my kids are now, but I’m pretty sure my initial efforts weren’t any better. My mom talked me out of taking up trombone – I understand why now.
Despite her warnings away from the brass section, my mom was unerringly supportive of my musical efforts. She didn’t push me into piano, although I knew she always wanted me to take lessons. My parents bought me a saxophone, which has held up for the last 20 years despite all sorts of abuse. They attended every concert, from the squeaking early ones full of quarter notes to the lyrical symphonic band in high school. They even paid for private lessons and signed me up for a band day camp one year.
But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. When I failed to make the jazz band my junior year of high school, my mom was there to comfort me.
All this even though I have the musical talent of a brick. In kindergarten, I clapped on the opposite beat from everyone else. (And occasionally still do.) I was never going to have a music scholarship, career, or anything but deep appreciation. But because I loved it, my mom never discouraged me or suggested that I should spend my time doing something else.
I never realized how big that gift of support was until I had kids myself. My kids love music as if melodies move through their blood. My older son sang constantly for a couple of years and goes to bed with the sounds of Beethoven in the background. He has definitive opinions on his band preferences – while the White Stripes are the best, he also enjoys Black Sabbath, They Might Be Giants, and local kindie rock musician Marsha and the Positrons. My younger son will turn anything in reach into a pair of drumsticks.
At times, this love of music can run to the annoying side. Our house can be very noisy.
But the inspiration from my own mom has shown me how to support my kids without forcing my own vision on them. While I’d love to enroll my older son in music classes, I’m trying to follow his lead. He’s not interested in anything formal for now. Despite the noise, we got them a drum set. They play it so much that they’ve already broken the drumsticks that came with it.
So often, our parents’ positive influence can seem invisible – just part of who we are. Or perhaps it’s “common sense.” (Of course, not everyone had a positive influence from their parents.) But that saxophone squawk reminded me of who guided me to that point. Perhaps that’s one of parenting’s greatest gifts – to remind us of the people who have enabled us in our best moments.
For more stories of real-life parenting, follow me on Facebook!