Music and Poetry

I have very fond memories of Julie Andrews' voice. There's something about her voice that means comfort and warmth. I want to believe that it's from more than just The Sound of Music but most likely my impression is from watching that movie over and over again, trying to mimic the sounds, and wondering if my life would ever be so adventurous and glamorous. The other day I was listening to the radio and heard that Julie Andrews and her daughter would be on the show the next hour, talking about their new children's poetry book. Yay!

I enjoyed listening to Ms. Andrews and her daughter Emma read poetry and tell stories. Some of the poems were wonderfully familiar and some were deliciously new to me. I was so caught up that I went online to Amazon to find the book. Then, in the midst of their storytelling, Ms. Andrews said something that made me catch my breath. She was talking of how poetry became so important to her, that it was a joy and passion of her father and a way of connecting with him, especially after her parents divorced. The interviewer asked Ms. Andrews if she ever became close with her stepfather and the reply was something along the lines of "no. He taught me to sing, but we never became close because that would have been betraying my father." Her stepfather taught her to sing - and singing has been the essence of her whole life and career - but she would not allow a close relationship with him because to do so would have signaled betrayal.

I hope, I hope, I hope that those words are never said about me. Given our custody schedule, Monkey and Peanut spend more time with me than they do their mother. Their lives will undoubtedly be influenced by my actions. I work hard to love them wholeheartedly, as if they were my own. I make the same kind of sacrifices for them that I make for Puddin'. Sometimes we get along swimmingly and sometimes we fight but, they are my children, regardless of what the genes say. So when I hear a line like the one Ms. Andrews uttered, I feel scared. What if the good will we have now doesn't last? Stan and I work hard to communicate that there is room for lots of people to love them and often reiterate that I am not looking to replace their mom. They actually call me their "extra mom." But I know that their mom sometimes feels threatened. She feels left out when I'm able to do special things with them or when I'm there to lead them through a milestone. Sometimes she says things to Monkey & Peanut that causes them feel guilty or that they feel pressures them to choose her over me. All I can do is keep loving them and hope that when they are old enough they can look back and see that there is enough love to go around.

There's an irony in this for me: Ms. Andrews' most iconic role was that of a stepmother, and a darned good one, too. In stepmom lore the woman is always sainted or wicked - there is no neutral or halfway for stepmoms. The Sound of Music presents the archtype for saintly stepmothering. So many women feel pressured and defeated by this imagery and yet the actress who played it had rejected that person in her own life. Her words have unearthed in me a vulnerability that I don't like to look at.

Of course, it goes without saying that I don't know Ms. Andrews or the circumstances of her growing up years. I don't want to judge her. In fact, I'm still as enamored as ever with her voice, I'm still hankering after the poetry book, and I have an irrepressible urge to watch The Sound of Music.