Thursday, April 9, 2009

Let's Just Hope She Uses It For Good Someday And Makes A Hit Record

My friends Emily and Kelly have clear, loud voices. Whenever I'm with them and I tune into this fact, I think about what a neat trait that must be to have. My muddled voice gets lost in a crowd, even when I'm being forceful so that my children will hear me. But to have a voice like a bell -- soft and feminine yet commanding and clear -- would be so unique, so handy.

Marta has that voice, but not quite in a good way. Take, for example, last night -- all of it. I'm not sure if she's figured out that she doesn't necessarily have to stay in her crib but is supposed to, or if she's ailing in some mysterious way, but for the past few nights she's been a train wreck. She doesn't cry in a sad or helpless way, which makes me think she's not hurt or sick. She yells, screams and thrashes angrily -- furiously -- and her voice hits loud, clear heights that remind me of when you watch a performance by Mariah Carey or Christina Aguilara and the camera is right up on their face, and their mouths are open hitting a high note, and then they go higher, and higher, and higher, and you're all, "I really hate this music but damn if that girl doesn't have pipes."

Only, with Marta it's more of an example of how she'll sound as a teenager, I suspect. Yelling in her baby talk and screaming at the monitor, vocal chords rolling with rage and, of course, waking Berit constantly. 

We go to Marta, but find after a half-hour of our soothing her and helping her back to sleep, the moment we leave she starts all over. So what do we do? Keep going in? That doesn't seem to be helping. Last night I just sat with the monitor in my hands, watching her tirade and thinking about how loud she was, and then I realized that I didn't even have the sound on on her monitor -- I could hear her clear as day through Berit's, sitting on the nightstand.

Oh Marta. Shrinking violet you're not.

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