Mothering can have a lot of laughs

Raising Troll and Moss offered many adventures. Even some good laughs. Here are some memories from being a member of the club: “The mothers of boys club”


The guitar that gently sleeps – for years

I had a ‘garage sale’ guitar forever propped in a corner of the living room. My hidden agenda was to entice my boys to one day pick up and strum her. In hindsight my ploy may have been more successful if I had occasionally strummed her myself. Nevertheless, the only sound that came from her all those years was when she got knocked over. Then she’d sing the blues from neglect.

Then out of the blue Troll wanted a guitar for his 17th birthday – electric, with an amp. Jeepers, I replied, we already have a guitar and you’ve never shown her any interest. But why electric? My worry is the amplification. We live in an apartment with neighbours right, left, above and beyond! How do you suppose that will go over at the next co-op meeting?

I want that electric sound, Mor. I promise to never have the amp too loud. Lots of my friends have ’em. It’s all I really want. Don’t get me anything then. I’m OK with nothing.

Well birthdays come and go but this one had a special ring to it. An electric guitar ring. And an amp. Although a really small one. And yes, one co-op member did ‘complain’.

He said it’s so great to hear your son playing Janis’ Summertime over and over and over again. He gets to one spot, the same one over and over and over again, but can’t hit the next note. I’ll let you know when it happens. I admire his ability to persevere. His focus.


Boobs and boys

When Moss and Troll were around 10 and 12 they started showing an interest in music. Tom Lee Music downtown was having a drumming workshop. The boys tried different drumsets and congas and steeldrums, as well as joining a workshop run by a traditional African drum and dance troupe – UMOJA. We’re first in line for seats so we sat right up front. The performance was outstanding and the drumming was loud, heart-stopping loud.

At the end we were given 4 free tickets for that night’s live performance at the Vogue. We found a fourth to bring along – one of their best friends, Ben. We’re lucky again with four front row seats.

The show is about the history of African drumming.The play opens with a small campfire centre-stage. It starts with a depiction of primitive man. The drummers are on stage dressed in loincloths, animal skins and a regalia of beads & feathers. They’re beating huge handmade drums in a melodic rhythmic beat, the volume and intensity is building. Next on stage come the women, also clothed in animal skins but only from the waist down! They’re pounding smallish drums and dancing in circles with increasing speed until there’s a frenetic swirl of sound and colour and breasts of all sizes swinging to the drum beat.

I glance at the boys. All three are leaning forward, mouths agape with chins on their chests.Their eyes are taking in the vast array of breasts in all shapes and sizes, swinging and jiggling about in full frontal nudity.

Your guess is as good as mine as to how much of the rest of the show was heard by the boys.

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