Digging Those Christmas Beats

Five years ago, I started playing the drums. Something I had wanted to do for decades I finally did. It's been amazing. It's been challenging. It's fired synapses in my brain I never knew I had. And most importantly, it's been fun. 

Since then, I usually play for at least one hour five to six days a week, before or after dinner, when I'm not traveling for work. I've had lessons, used online programs, and have a regular practice regimen. I've also learned over 180 songs I've loved over the years. Mostly ground in rock and roll but also including pop, rhythm and blues, soul, and even contemporary country. I get to channel amazing drummers that I aspire to play as proficiently as they do someday. 

The first two years I was lucky to get through and learn one to two minutes of a song, but then I finally improved enough to get through entire songs. Not note for note; I do my best to hit 80%+ of a song and record it. On average it takes two to three hours for me to learn a song, and once I record it, I move on to another one.

The past three Christmases I've learned various holiday songs, but this Christmas, I asked my wife Amy and our kids Beatrice and Bryce if there was a song they wanted me to learn to play. 

Beatrice didn't have to think about it, she just immediately said, "You know the song 'Do They Know It's Christmas?' -- that's the one I want. Who's it by again?"

"Band Aid," I said. "It was one of the super-group awareness and fundraiser songs like 'We Are The World'. Lots of MTV 'first wave' and rock and pop artists of the 1980's."

"Cool," she said. 

It's great because Beatrice is a big retro-80's-sound fan and likes bands like Duran Duran and others. I recently learned Hungry Like the Wolf and she loved it. 

The Band Aid song was a perfect choice for our caring, empathic kid who loves Christmastime and can't wait for us to decorate every year.

"...And in our world of plenty we can spread a smile of joy
Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time..."

And oh my, Phil Collins played the drums on this. I had totally forgotten about that. So much fun to play Do They Know It's Christmas?. 

Bryce was also quick to select and said, "Play The Waitresses song 'Christmas Wrappings'. That's one of my favorite ones."

"You got it," I said.

What a perfect choice for Bryce, our sometimes aloof, and always "punk rock", yet super sweet and loving kid who also loves Christmastime, even when they play it down. 

"...Bah Humbug, now that's too strong!
'Cause it is my favorite holiday..."

Billy Ficca was the original drummer on the song. So much fun to play Christmas Wrappings.

For Amy, it was a little harder, just because there are so many holiday songs we both love. One of her favorite bands is Train, and so last year one of the songs I learned was their rendition of This Christmas. 

Instead, she went more traditional, "How about, 'We Need a Little Christmas'?" 

"Which one?" I asked. I looked up some of the versions. "Johnny Mathis?"

"Yes," said. "That one."

What a perfect choice for Amy, always encouraging smiles and cheer throughout the year. Beatrice also likes all the old-school traditional singers and Christmas songs. There's no drummer credited to this song that I could find, but I just started learning We Need a Little Christmas and the big band sound is also fun to play. 

"...For we need a little music, need a little laughter
Need a little singing ringing through the rafter
And we need a little snappy, happy ever after
We need a little Christmas now..."

And there you have it. I'm fulfilling our family Christmas song requests, I keep learning from fantastic drummers, and we're all digging those Christmas beats. I hope you are, too. 

Light Up to the Music

Bryce expected me to say no. I'm known as the fussy dad who always says no. But I didn't. Not this time anyway. They wanted to go to a youth Halloween concert and fundraiser being put on by a local music school called Be Natural Music at an amazing local venue called Felton Music Hall, and one of Bryce's good friends was singing in one of the bands. Bryce asked me if we could go. And I said yes.

To be fair, Bryce knew I loved music as much as they did, and because the concert was local, I said yes. Our whole family loves music. My wife Amy and I are six years apart in age but love most of the same music from the 1970's, 1980's, and beyond. Both Bryce and our oldest Beatrice are in the high school choir, and their love of popular music as kids has morphed into a love of alternative, punk, rock, and more as teens. 

The music we loved growing up throughout adolescence became the permanent coming-of-age soundtracks of our lives, from positive heart thumpers to bittersweet soul crushers and throughout the spectrum in between. Our kids are experiencing the same thing now with their music, with an added plus: enjoying some of the same music we grew up on. And some of their new music we're digging, too.

A few weeks before the youth concert, I celebrated my 60th birthday. We had a wonderful celebration with family and friends and Bryce wanted to play the guitar and sing. They were nervous and we weren't sure they'd do it, but do it they did. And it was wonderful. 

They also wore a Rush t-shirt, too. In fact, they've taken many of my Rush t-shirts and wear them proudly. Beatrice still has one of my old Rush sweatshirts she wears once in a while, too. Neither of them like Rush's music, but even without knowing their music as intimately as I do, they do understand the spirit of individualism, critical thinking, learning, levity, empathy, and love. The kids are in luck, because I'll be buying more merch at the Rush Fifty Something tour happening next year. Never say never. 

Bryce and I had a rockin' good time at the youth concert. Each band played three songs, but what I wasn't expecting was the quality of the musicianship and the singing. Bryce's friend belted out The Weight by The Band and two other songs, including Fire on the Mountain by The Grateful Dead. Cover after cover, these kids rocked The Police, Ozzy Osbourne, Fleetwood Mac, and so much more. 

What's old is new again. Watching Bryce light up to the music and their friend singing lit me up (naturally, of course); I know they want to be on stage someday. They actually already have sang solos via choir, but now the goal is to play the guitar and sing on stage. I've also asked Bryce if they wanted to jam in the garage with me and my drums -- still working on that one. 

It was nice to see and feel all the musicians at the youth concert light up to the music they were playing. I lit up. The audience lit up. The place was rocking. Our kids need the music more than ever these days. Oh, blessed rock and roll. Thank you for always coming through.

Never Be Remiss About Missing Out

I didn't realize it was national competition. I only thought it was a local choral festival we were going to. It's probably better that I didn't know, since I agreed to play the drums on one of the songs for the middle school advanced (gold) choir that our youngest Bryce is part of. The song was Nanuma, a traditional greeting song from Ghana. 

It's a fairly simple repetitive beat, a welcoming pattern, which made sense since it is a greeting song. I practiced it for over a month along with my usual drum regimen nearly every night I was at home and not traveling for work. 

Halfway through that month, the choir teacher sent me an email that she had another person to drum, someone who was going to do it in the first place, so I was off the hook. Now, I could've just let it be at that point, and walked away from it. I've had enough work stress of late, so why would I want to stress about performing in front of people for the first time, including both my children, Bryce and Beatrice. Both were supportive, although Bryce might have been kind of mixed about it in the first place. Supportive, but mixed. I mean, I am Dad, and they are teen, so there's that. 

But I didn't walk away. I wrote the choir teacher back and said I'd been practicing and really wanted to do it. She replied excitedly that I should still do it; she thought I'd want to back out. Both my wife Amy and I would also help chaperone the choir event, because after the performance all the kids were going to the Great America amusement park. 

The morning we left for the choir festival, I had to pick out an acoustic tom drum, stand, and sticks from the choir/band room at school to bring with me. I play an electronic kit at home and have never really played acoustic. Acoustics are much louder and the feel is different, even though I have mesh heads at home, which have a give feel like acoustics. 

We all rode the bus to the choral performance, then came the performance itself. I set up my drum and then stood poised sticks in had. The choir took to the risers. The choir teacher hit the piano key for pitch, started waving her hands in the beat count, looked at me, and I started the song. In retrospect, I wasn't actually nervous to perform, just more nervous about being too loud. As the choir sang the lovely greeting song Nanuma, I drummed lightly until the very end when I drove it home. 

And then it was over. Less than three minutes of song overall. It wasn't a big audience, but here were family and friends and another choir in the room waiting. After I was done I sat and listened to the other two songs Bryce's choir sang, which were wonderful. In fact, our middle school choir won gold in the top 10% of schools participating at the Forum Music Festival! 

Not because of my drumming, of course, but I was still proud to be a part of it (and couldn't wait to share with my drum teacher!). Nope, you're never too old to learn new things. Never. We encourage our teens to try new things, to overcome any anxiety about trying new things, and continue to develop the new things they end up enjoying, maybe even loving, like sports, theater, art, music, and more. Just like they're doing now, with theater winning the hearts and minds of both kids (more on that soon). We never want them to be remiss about missing out. 

The Beat of BhivePowered Drums

After decades of thinking about playing the drums, and with only a few short-lived runs at starting to play but never following through, I finally picked up the drumsticks for good shortly after the COVID-19 lockdown started. That was nearly four years ago now, and since then, I’ve practiced for over 1,000 hours, averaging about 5 hours per week, usually playing after dinner. When I travel, I bring my practice pad with me and try to bang out some rudiments. 

In addition to practicing rudiments and taking various lessons, I’ve also had fun learning to play many songs I grew up with and loved (and still love), nearly 120 songs to date. I get to 80%-85%% proficiency, record myself playing, and then move on to another song, always learning two songs simultaneously. Early on I couldn’t always get the entire song down, but now I can. 

No, I’m not starting a band anytime soon, but the point of all this ongoing practice is to improve and sustain my drumming performance. Hitting 100% isn’t easy, but consistency in proficiency is key. I’m also always adding wrinkles to my rudiments, the lessons I’m learning, and periodically getting feedback and lessons from a professional session drummer. 

I’ve been beating a similar drum for our teens recently, getting them to understand that it's never too late to try something new and see if it lands on the right heartbeat for them. Especially now, this is the time for them to explore what moves them the most (and they should do this throughout life). Both my wife Amy and I tell them that they should never be afraid to give something new a go. Our youngest Bryce gave theater a go and loves it. But even if Bryce hadn't liked it, they really put themselves out there during the very first audition, which is always a super-big deal. Our oldest Beatrice has given lacrosse, track, and now theater a go, and we'll see what she really enjoys and wants to continue the most. Although art is her true love and that is definitely something she continues to invest in.

The key is the heartfelt enjoyment our kids get from whatever those endeavors, hobbies, activities are that they try. The world is cutthroat competitive enough, and while our teens will still need to put in the work to learn and grow in whatever they aspire to do, they've got to have fun, too. When I coached both our kids in soccer for years, that was always my mantra. Learn new skills, embrace teamwork when applicable, and have fun. Always. Have. Fun. That's the beat of BhivePowered Drums. 

Never Too Old

Sometimes it can take decades to do something you love. Something you always wanted to learn but never took the time to do so. Something you tried in fits and starts that never stuck. Something that would take a pandemic to jumpstart it. 

I took guitar lessons when I was 9 years old, but never played much after that, or played any other instrument in junior high or high school. I never had any interest in joining band, but I did always love music, and sang in choir in junior high and high school. There was one year in high school when I did pick the guitar again to collaborate with an old friend I was in choir with. Someone who eventually got very serious about music and played professionally. We learned the Eagles' song Lyin' Eyes, but then never played it anywhere except inside my house. 

Although I loved all sorts of music growing up, thanks to my mother, with a particular affinity to R&B, rock, and pop, besides guitar, the only drumming I ever imagined doing was air drumming. I realized as I got older how passionate I was about drumming. 

And there were a few fits and starts of trying to learn. In my 20's, I remember buying a practice pad, drumsticks, and a rudiment lesson book. That lasted a couple of weeks and was then buried in the closet. I tried again in my 30's, and that only lasted a couple of weeks as well. Then in my late 40's, my wife Amy bought me an electronic drum set from Costco. I was super jazzed about it, set it up, and played off and on for a few months. But then that drum set got pushed around the garage and eventually sat unused gathering dust. 

That's all it was ever going to be, until the year 2020. That year started off with the death of my favorite drummer, lyricist, and writer, Neil Peart. Two months later, the world locked down everywhere due to the coronavirus pandemic. Shortly after that, I carved out a new location in the garage, set up my drums again, and restarted some video lessons. This time I lasted months and showed no signs of stopping. I practiced every night after dinner, at least 5-6 times per week.

In December 2020, I sold my old electronic kit and upgraded to a new one. I started new lessons and kept going. Two and a half years later, now in my mid-50's, and I'm really playing the drums. I'm not joining a band anytime soon, but I am playing regularly, learning, and getting better. Sometimes when I come in from practice, Amy and our daughters will say, "I heard you, Dad. Great job!" That means the world to me. 

The takeaway for our children is that they should always pursue what they love, no matter at what age or if it pays the bills or not. Mine never will, but that was never the point. The point was the love of drumming, learning, and keep me mentally and physically fit. There's lots of research out there about how learning challenging new activities keeps an old brain trained and active. I even started my own fun Big Daddy Drumming Practice YouTube channel channeling all the stellar drummers I'm learning from. Rock on, kids. You're never too old to learn new things. 

Their Daily Melodies

I remember holding our daughters after they were born. And every time I held them after that, I was in awe of their breathing, and then eventually their babbling. Listening to them was like a daily mindful meditation. Their peaceful sleep with eyes shut tight and their alert awareness with eyes wide open. These tiny creatures were completely dependent on us to keep them safe and alive. I held them and loved them more than I ever could've imagined. 

Because for many years prior to that, I never imagined holding my own babies. Neither did my wife Amy. We just didn't want to have children. After we each grew up in our own unstable environments, bringing a child into the world just wasn't something we wanted to do. We just wanted to enjoy our lives together and see the world. 

I had crappy father role models, too. An abusive birth father who berated and beat my mother. An abusive first stepfather who terrorized my mother and sister and sexually assaulted me. But even when we found the father we never had in our second stepfather, the one who's name we took, the one who loved and cared for us as his own, it wasn't enough to convince me that I could do the same someday. Or, would want to do the same someday.

One of the many things my dad (second stepfather) instilled in me was listening. Just listening. Without judgment. And sometimes without even talking, because listening was more than verbal. This was especially important during our teenage years, which were the years shortly after our mom and him had gotten together and married. As teens, we didn't think anyone was listening, especially our parents, but Dad listened well. He still was dad, though, and every single time I'd lock my keys in my car as a teenager, which I did a lot, he'd shake his head and say, "Oh, son." And then curse a little and explain to me how and why I should better manage my keys.

When my mom couldn't help herself being reactive and judgmental about a situation, my dad usually could do the opposite. He would listen and was very thoughtful and measured in his response to whatever the situation was. What I didn't realize until over two decades later was how much his listening impacted me. 

Amy and I eventually changed our minds about having children and we're so grateful we did. Back then, we'd been listening to each other without really talking literally about having kids. Like my dad taught me, both verbal and non-verbal listening are key to quality committed relationships -- from spouses to children to friends to any relationship. Holding our newborns and then watching them grow and thrive as children and now to being practically teens has flown by, but we've also celebrated and lived within every moment, which slows time dramatically. 

We actually control life's tempo more than we think we do. It's like me finally learning how to play the drums. It's not just speed or complexity of the literal sequenced beats on the snare, toms, high-hat, and symbols that are important, it's also the empty spaces in between the beats, the rests that connect all the notes. Combined, these music measures are what tell the entire story. If you're listening that is. Our now practically teens may not think we're always listening to them, but we are, and listening to their daily melodies resonates with our deepest love. 

Thank you, Dad. And to grateful "listening" fathers everywhere, Happy Father's Day. 

One Mindful Beat at a Time

The second time I tried, I fixed it. I didn't think I'd even try again after the first time; I didn't think I'd even try the first time. Fixing things beyond my working knowledge isn't something I usually spend any time on. While my wife Amy is someone who will hop on the world wide interwebs and find how-to YouTube videos, I ask, "Who can fix it for me? Where do I get a new one?"

That has changed some for me in the past year since we've had a trailer camper, although a lot of the learning curve is still above my pay grade. And to be fair, there have been many home projects over the years where Amy and I do it ourselves, with a lot of blood, sweat, tears and cursing along the way. Mostly for me, not from her. Plus, any time there are computer, Wi-Fi or printer issues, I'm the fixer, no matter how much I grumble about it. And I grumble about it a lot.

So, when my six-month-old electronic drum set hit a snag with the snare, I was bummed. The snare sound no longer triggered each time I hit the drum head. It was under warranty still, so I contacted the manufacturer and waited. And waited. 

And while I waited, I continued to work on me. Learning, stretching, growing and improving are big parts of our family culture, and we encourage each other and our daughters to try new things, to try things we've always wanted to learn. We also encourage each other to work through our feelings about the world around us and others, all starting with how we feel about ourselves first. We check in with each other daily and during our weekly family meetings, to ensure emotional and physical safety, empathy, belonging and love. 

The pandemic continues to stress us all out unfortunately. I've been super sensitive to overreactions and divisive anger all around us, limiting my time on social media and reading the news. So much has happened over the past year and a half. So much loss. So many broken. So much helplessness of not knowing how to help. Sure, we can donate, volunteer, get activated and participate in making a difference, which we do, but it can all still lead to mental health strain and sedating. Recently after reenergizing my heart, I focused more on Amy and our daughters. And me. 

After fits and starts for decades of always wanting to play the drums, I'm actually playing the drums. Really playing them. Not in a band or anything like that. Just practicing and playing nearly every single day. Which is why when my snare broke, it bummed me out. I could still play most of my lessons, but the drum sounds were off and I felt off balance, out of synch. 

I went online and searched for "how to fix your electronic drum head." I found a few videos and settled on one that guided me on what to look for. In most of today's electric drum heads there are two sensors that pick up the vibration from hitting the drum and then those vibrations zoom along cables to the drum computer that then translates into a specific drum sound -- snare, tom, cymbal, etc. -- that emanates from my drum speakers. The sensor at the bottom of the snare picks up the rim hits, and the padded sensor at the top picks up the main drum head hits. What I found was the wire to the top sensor was severed somehow. How it happened, I had no idea, but the cut was very close to the sensor itself under a glued foam pad, so I didn't think I could fix it. 

A week later I finally heard from the manufacturer and the new snare was on back order and they'd send me an alternative drum. I said to myself, Great, but in the meantime I'm going back in. I took the snare apart again and went to work. This time I figured out I could lift the glued pad enough to reconnect the severed wire without damaging the sensor. After putting it all back together again, it worked. Right on. 

But unlike my snare, I can't fix others when they're broken. I can encourage introspection and healing, but I can't fix them. While pandemic anxiety continues to punch down on many of us, the place to start is here (I'm pointing at my own heart). I can open up my own heart and tinker with what's inside. Maybe even fix it. 

One of the latest meditations Amy I listened to states, "My relationships begin within, through love and caring for myself." Amen to that. Whether you meditate or pray, exercise or vacay, or engage in other kinds of mental health help, fix your heart first, one mindful beat at a time.

Our Learning Quests

Like so many other families this year, my wife Amy and I worked from home, our daughters Beatrice and Bryce schooled from home, and our entire family lived everything from home for nearly 10 months of 2020. And as COVID-19 raged around us, and polarized people raged at each other, we did things that we loved. 

We not only became closer as a family, of which we're grateful, we expanded our personal interests and developed new habits that fueled our learning and creativity. 

For Amy, it's putting puzzles together. The love of puzzles isn't new to her, and she rekindled it pre-pandemic. But once shelter-in-place orders started, she began to buy puzzles at Goodwill. At the end of each day of working and schooling from home, she pulls out the latest puzzle she'd started, spread out over a big piece of cardboard, and get to identifying the myriad of interlocking pieces. When she's nearly done with a puzzle, she lets the girls place the last few pieces. Then she puts them all back in the box and gives them back to Goodwill for someone else to buy. 

For the girls, it's doing art, specifically drawing with colored pens and pencils. This isn't new to them either, but there's been of surge of creativity between the two of them. Each girls has a unique artistic eye within their developing talents. Bryce loves Japanese anime and a games called Gacha Life, Adopt Me and Among Us, which influences much of her art of late. Beatrice likes the same games, but not anime as much, and is also big graphic novel fan. Both girls like reading graphic novels actually, with Bryce enjoying text chapter books more than Bea. Both girls also draw what they like from looking at other images and from memory, and their interpretations are quite memorable. Like Bea's Rudolph from the stop-motion animated show from 1964 and her recent sunset interpretation. She's now working on a creepy graphic novel, a genre and style she loves.

As for me, well, it's been about the drums this year. I've been an air drummer since I was first introduced to rock and roll by mother, but I never took lessons, never owned a drum set, and never played in junior high or high school. In the early 1990's, before I met Amy, I remember going to a music store with my ex and buying a practice pad with a stand and some drumming lesson books. That lasted about a week and then they were shoved into a closet never to be seen from again. Before Bea was born, I started up again with another practice pad, a pair of drumsticks and foot pedals for footwork practice. I had some new printed lessons and a subscription to Modern Drummer magazine as well. That lasted a few months. Then about five years ago Amy bought me an electronic kit, and I taught myself drumming rudiments and took some online lessons, more than I had ever done before. But then the kit got moved around due to house changes and my busy work and travel schedule killed any momentum I had finally established.

2020 started off with the death of my favorite drummer, lyricist and writer, Neil Peart. Shortly after that, I carved out a new location in the garage, set up my drums again, and restarted the video lessons. Now the fire is more real than ever, and I practice nearly every night. Santa even stopped by early this year and left me an upgraded electronic kit, so I can't stop now. I won't stop now. 

The puzzle that Amy completed last Christmas, before the global pandemic changed our worlds forever, was called "The Quest For Knowledge." It's now framed and hangs in our house. How prescient and appropriate for our family this year, and how grateful we are to be able to do the things we love to do. The things that keep our synapses firing and brains rewiring -- the puzzles, the art and the drumming that drive all our learning quests. 

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

The Primary Pooper Scoopers

The Little Wooden Reindeer

A Well-Being Worth Practicing

A Grateful Tree

It's This Moment That Matters

The Bank of Mom and Dad

Something to Celebrate

The Haunted Garden

Mapping the Way

Mask Up First For Your Families

All Because of One Day on the Beach

Awash in Love and Hope

The Building Blocks of Healthy Lives

The Part Where All Lives Matter

The Clarity Bridge for Homelessness

Stars to Shine

Loving Community Wide Shots Abound

A Foundation Worth Saving

This Hit-And-Run Thunderstorm

Help Prevent the Back-to-School Bullying

Memories Now and to Come

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To 

We can own each moment, make it ours and hold God’s attention

I've been teaching myself drumming for about two years now. It's nothing too serious, just the rudiments and a little independence. I don't have a drum kit – just sticks, a practice pad, practice pedals, some print and DVD lessons, a Casio drum machine and a subscription to Modern Drummer.

Independence has been an exercise that extends beyond the ability to play different beats with all four limbs, all while keeping measured time. It's helped activate parts of my Cro-Magnon frontal lobes that have allowed me to truly multi-task – to remain fused in the moment while simultaneously managing multiple tasks, at work and at home.

And that's a good thing when you have a baby in the family. Three may be the magic number, but from what I remember from high school chemistry, it can be a weaker bond. You can challenge my chemistry knowledge, although where I'm going is the added stress and strain children can put on the family – emotionally and financially.

Bea's only 4 months old. Keeping measured time with a 4-month-old has been a pleasure for both Mama A and Daddy K. But what about at 4 years old? 14? 40 (if I'm lucky to live so long)? I'm in it to win it as they say and each day is a lovefest of mindful living. That's one thing to apply at home, but quite another to apply at work.

It takes more than mindful living and loving to raise a family; it takes money as well. And working hard to make ends meet can take its toll on families. I work in the human capital space where workforce management is now the instability of those two words, especially with the unemployment horror that continues to rise across the U.S. It's unprecedented the economic atom-splitting we're seeing unfold day after day. I was listening to an NPR: Planet Money podcast the other day about how single woman with two kids in Dayton, Ohio, learned of her proofreading job's demise via e-mail shortly after she learned there would be no more coffee offered in the office. End of job with no prospects in sight.

That's what you call devastating work/life imbalance and just one of a million stories we'll hear this year. It's a scary time for families, but for those who have stable employment, work/life balance is a misnomer anyway; it's much more fluid and organic than that; we don't really balance our time. Plus, times like these can feel like a violent storm crashing us upon the rocks; time is the enemy. We're fortunate to have stable employment, but no one predicted the world we'd be in today, the perfect storm leaving many folks' time in shambles.

But then we can also experience the little perfect storms that can wash away the sun for a day with a blown out diaper. And then a peeing baby without a diaper. And then a leaking bag of cat litter. And then a sick nanny. And then a wailing on-the-cusp teething baby being handled by Daddy with no more finesse than Blagojevich's denial of wrongdoing. All the while with clients asking for more for less, and needing it yesterday.

All I kept thinking is how much we love each other and Bea (sans the cursing and kicking).

My parents gave me Grace for the Moment by Max Lucado for Christmas. Wonderful book. Here's something that caught my eye the other day:

Unhappiness on earth cultivates a hunger for heaven. By gracing us with a deep satisfaction, God holds our attention.

We all just want to be happy and fight ourselves tooth and nail all the way, by focusing on what happens to us, breaking our attention and missing a beat.

Which brings me back to drumming and one concept I'm fascinated by – driving time. Driving time and owning it. Drummers are the backbone of a band's rhythm (along with the bass), and are called upon to keep the measured time moving along. But real life isn't like a metronome; drummers can also drive time while keeping it. They can slow it down and speed it up – push out on it and suck it back in as if it was their own breath – forming a symbiotic relationship with it – dancing solo with it like one's shadow – but still keep the beat unfettered or from becoming painful booms and crashes. We have a heart, mind and soul, and four limbs, to keep us grounded in fluid measures, aware of now.

So much is out of our hands; so much is in our hands. We can own each moment, make it ours and hold God's attention.

Daddy K drums through a dream

The other night our midwife came a-callin' for her latest appointment with us. It's always a pleasure having her over for our pre-baby appointments because she's such a relaxed yet engaged, intense presence.

No, no, there's candles, incense or chanting for those of you keeping score at home. These are professional (and personable) appointments with the woman who's going to birth our baby.

And the end of each visit, she always does her Mama A / Baby B check-up, including listening to the baby's heartbeat.

It's a drag on a tom tom at 140 beats per minute, daddy-o. A steady driving beat that rocks my world.

And last night Baby B's kicks and turns were so strong! It be getting' big.

Last night I dreamed I held my baby. It was a boy. Sleeping soundly in my arms. Eyes closed and calm. Breathing steady and sure. Strong tiny hand gripping my forefinger. Probably since it's man week for me, the testosterone is elevated.

We were in a large house. Both families everywhere. Suddenly I needed to run an errand, so I left my baby on a large white bed and walked away. I knew in my dream it was absurd, but I had to run that errand. My nephew Nick called after me that I shouldn't leave my baby alone.

And then I was running outside God knows where. At one point there were abandoned cars and bizarre carnival acts as I ran past. The only thing I knew was that I had to get back. I had no money, no cell phone, and everyone around me was a stranger.

I woke, my heart beating a booming triple ratamacue at 2.5 million beats per minute.

I'm never going to leave you, B. We've got a band to start and a tour to plan for.

Baby B Bangs on a Drum; Daddy K Don’t Wanna Work

I don’t want to work, I just want to bang on the drum all day.

That’s a line from a fun Todd Rundgren song. And the fact that I’ve been self-teaching myself the drums and I don’t really want to work (wink), is more than apropos. (Baby B has been banging away at Mama A’s uterine drum!)

Music has always been a huge part of my life and Amy’s, and along with reading, is vital sustenance for Baby B and beyond.

I thank my Mom for instilling the muse of music in my soul and my sister’s. From Janis Joplin to the Ohio Players, Mom had it goin’ on as the kids used to say. (Kristen got the dancing gene, but at least I can keep a beat.)

My niece and nephew, Celeste and Nick, got the music torch passed to them from their mother and father and it’s certainly lit a fire in Nick’s belly.

Here are some of his favorite things (no dog biting or bee stinging)…

Nick Santos's Top Bands of All Time:

• The White Stripes
• The Arcade Fire
• The Beatles
• The Killers
• The Strokes
• Bruce Sprinsteen and the E Street Band
• The Red Hot Chili Peppers
• Modest Mouse
• Aerosmith
• The Cars
• The Animals
• ELO
• The Offspring
• The Arctic Monkeys
• Cake
• (He forgot Rush but I’ll forgive him this time.)

Nick Santos's Top Bands at the Moment:

• Los Campesinos!
• The Mars Volta
• Queens of the Stone Age
• The Velvet Underground
• Neutral Milk Hotel
• Black Kids
• The Last Shadow Puppets
• M.I.A.
• Sonic Youth
• Tokyo Police Club
• Bryan Scary and the Shredding Tears
• Spoon
• The Night Marchers
• The Arcade Fire
• The National
• MGMT
• The Kills
• The Killers
• The Flaming Lips
• Dead Kennedys
• British Sea Power
• Against Me!

Sweet. Rock on with your bad self, Nick.

Sigh. Right now I’m in Philadelphia missing Mama A and Baby B and hummin’ the words to “House on Pooh Corner” by Loggins and Messina.

“It's hard to explain how a few precious things
Seem to follow throughout all our lives
After all's said and done I was watching my son
Sleeping there with my bear by his side
So I tucked him in, kissed him, and as I was going
I swear that old bear whispered, ‘Boy, welcome home’”