This incredible new cover of ‘(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay’ will have you floating towards Christmas break in no time. There are days in December when time doesn’t walk—it sprints. And we moms are right there chasing it, ponytail flying, coffee going cold, calendar notifications popping like popcorn.
Concerts. School projects that somehow require glitter at 9 p.m. Sports events layered on top of Christmas programs.
Cards to mail. Cookies to bake. Volunteering to volunteer for volunteering. It’s beautiful and exhausting and loud in the way only a full life can be.
And then a song stops you.
IMY2’s take on “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” drifts in, and suddenly your shoulders drop an inch. Maybe two. The song we’ve known forever is reimagined—soft but strong, familiar yet fresh—and it feels like someone gently reminding us how to breathe again.
IMY2 is a three-piece pop/rock group based in Nashville, Tennessee, known for blending original music with thoughtful covers of well-loved classics. At the center is Annalise Mahanes, lead vocalist and primary songwriter, whose voice somehow feels both grounded and wild at the same time. She’s joined by Cal Tucker on bass and piano and Michael Monahan on guitar, and together they don’t just play songs—they hold them.
Watching Annalise sing is its own experience. Her blue hair alone deserves a moment of silence. Or applause. Or at least a pause where you ask yourself, Could I pull that off?
You imagine it for half a second, blue hair, oversized sweater, no responsibilities beyond sipping something warm and staring at water. And then reality taps you on the shoulder and reminds you that you have a permission slip due tomorrow and someone needs clean socks.
Still, a mom can dream.
IMY2’s version of ‘Dock of the Bay’ feels like an invitation to that dream. It’s unhurried. Unbothered. The opposite of the mental to-do list currently running laps in your head. It makes you long for a dock somewhere—anywhere—where no one needs you to sign, glue, drive, organize, or remember the difference between festive casual and Christmas formal.
The irony, of course, is that we’re listening to this song while folding laundry or sitting in the carpool line, surrounded by backpacks and half-eaten snacks. Our docks are minivans. Our bays are calendars. We’re not sitting—we’re sprinting. But for three minutes and some change, the song lets us pretend.
So we keep moving. We keep showing up. We keep wrapping gifts and snacks and ourselves in grace. But maybe tonight, after the last light is turned off and the house finally exhales, we sit for a minute. Headphones in. Song on repeat.
Just sitting on the dock of the bay—Watching the mom-life roll away.