There's a myth on the Lauchstaedt side of the family that mothers favor their sons above their daughters. For at least the last four generations in my lifetime it seems to be true. My great grandmother adored her son I am told and tolerated her daughter (my grandmother). In turn my grandmother worshiped the ground that my Uncle Dieter walked upon. The tradition passed on down to my aunts on that side of the family with all of their sons being placed on a pedestal. I think it's less true of my generation but the propensity leads me to be careful about how much praise I heap upon my son. Not to mention the fact that his sister, for reasons of her own, believes I was easier on him.
I confess my guilt on this last count. I always saw my daughter as an extension of me. There wasn't a lot of mystery with her, I usually knew where she was coming from. I was once a girl, a teen and a young woman too. I had felt the same feelings, had the same fears. I spent most my time trying to help her avoid the mistakes I had made growing up. But my son was always a complete and utter mystery to me. Most of my time with him was spent trying to crack the code and figure him out. Add to that the fact that I had to counteract his father being tougher on him than on our daughter and it ended up being a completely different mothering experience. But they know that I love them both dearly and would do anything in the world for them.
I confess my guilt on this last count. I always saw my daughter as an extension of me. There wasn't a lot of mystery with her, I usually knew where she was coming from. I was once a girl, a teen and a young woman too. I had felt the same feelings, had the same fears. I spent most my time trying to help her avoid the mistakes I had made growing up. But my son was always a complete and utter mystery to me. Most of my time with him was spent trying to crack the code and figure him out. Add to that the fact that I had to counteract his father being tougher on him than on our daughter and it ended up being a completely different mothering experience. But they know that I love them both dearly and would do anything in the world for them.
All that seems like a long way to go just to share a video of my son's band but, like I said, I'm sensitive about over praising. My son Wade has a great big heart, a good sense of humor and a healthy appreciation for a good practical joke. I didn't realize he was a performer though until I saw him in a grade school show doing a dead-on impersonation of Michael Jackson, complete with the moonwalking. I remember being impressed by not only his performance but also how at ease he seemed to be on stage. Through the rest of his schooling he seemed to have an eye for art as well. My husband, the vigilant one, made sure he took guitar lessons as he was growing up. The guitar teacher said more than once that Wade had a knack for it. I was certainly proud but tried to not get too over excited about it. After all, if he were a prodigy we certainly would have known.
About a year ago Wade and some of his buddies started a band. They practiced for the first few months in his girlfriend's barn. As winter set in though it got to be too cold so he asked if they could practice in the basement. Sure, why not. The first thing I noticed is they sounded really good. Then I realized I didn't recognize any of the songs. I asked Wade about it and he said that was because he wrote them. I flashed back to his Michael Jackson skit. Really? You wrote that stuff. Where did you get that talent? They've been practicing here for several months and they have improved a lot. The video clip below is three songs they played at an open mic night at the Tap Room in Ypsi. Wade is up front and center playing guitar. The enthusiastic fan is his girlfriend. My favorite is the third song. Am I gushing too much?
