Updated: Jun 17, 2020
Have you ever sat in a room full of musical genius? Maybe just people who are into music? Okay well what about genius? Well, I don’t know about you but that is literally the story of my life, and the bad part is….I am not musical or a genius. When I got married, I didn’t think that my husband’s entire family was as committed to music as he was. What I have found is that this gift is passed down from generation, which you guessed it, has passed down to my boys.
I remember growing up and singing some early 90’s Rand B song and my mom looking at me with the, that’s not your skill set baby look (with a hint of pity). However, my middle sister, Nadia, is a phenomenal singer and I remember everyone always talking about where she got that gift and how amazing she was and blah blah blah. I remember being drugged (not dragged, I meant drugged with Tylenol) to attend choir and band concerts because she was an “artist.” So whatever Naaaadddia. I lived my best life and sung in my room, by myself, and where everyone has their best solos, in the shower. By the grace of God, my children didn’t inherit my lack of a gift and are musically gifted (as you know I’m not like the mom that puts the squeaky violinist out there, my kids are good). My husband’s family has been given this gift as well from his dad, to his uncles, to his cousins.
Our favorite cousin, Noland (as I have mentioned in previous post), is a drummer. He occasionally plays at church for special events and is extremely talented. He is so talented that Little wants to battle with Noland for his spot as drummer. Yes, my kids are very competitive, I mean every special occasion Little will get dressed and be pumped for the service until he asks the age-old question, “will Noland be at church?” When Big says yes you see his little face turn into competition mode. I mean this little guy feels that he is already the best drummer in the world let alone the church.
However, in my heart I am looking at him like my mom did me when I would be singing. But, hold on don’t say, “oh Natasha, stop.” Its on the inside not on the outside. You should say, “oh Vazaskia, LOL (For those that don’t know, Vazaskia is my mom, remember the one who would give me the pity look). On several occasions Little has been on the drums feeling the beat and Noland would arrive and Little will give him the stare down (fyi, Noland is his favorite too, he copies everything he says and does…thanks a lot Noland 😊).
Since he wants this so bad, he is very consistent with his practice daily (sometimes it sounds good other times I think I am going to scream). We are very encouraging though. Recently, to my surprise at the Pastoral appreciation, Noland had not made it to the church yet and Big told Little to go get on the drums for the run through. The pit of my stomach dropped, and I wanted to save my baby but before I went to save him he had already; ran down the balcony stairs, grabbed his drum sticks, his chalk for his hands (okay I am exaggerating) and was on the drums ready to play. I was amazed and felt awful that I didn’t put more faith into this little drummer boy. He got down with the get down yall. He did a pretty good job, let me rephrase that he did an outstanding job. Until Noland walked through the door, with his sunglasses on (mind you it was raining outside LOL). Little sized Noland up and down and around the corner. But, Noland didn’t notice the size up probably because Little got that look from him (Again, thanks Noland). I never knew that confidence was hereditary but, in that moment, I knew that this competitiveness and confidence had passed down from generation to.