Whew, long day. Printing and reprinting report cards, 'splaining the same thing over and over and over again to eight classes of kids who are interested/motivated/clueless to wildly varying degrees. Going to the store with my boys, which I try to do solo anymore, but the entourage was unavoidable today.
In the great scheme of things, Thing 1 (the elder), and Thing 2 (the younger) are very well behaved in the store, they don't beg for things or whine, they're just bored and energetic. So I feel like the nucleus of an atom and they are my whizzing protons. I hate keeping track of protons and trying to calculate prices per ounce in my head, it just makes me cranky. Sometimes our little atom loses a proton, and then all hell breaks loose. Mommy goes nuclear, and that's not pretty. Which is why they are generally well behaved.
The highlight of the day was, and I'm finding this is a strangely trendy thing to do, Thing 2 and my violin lesson. That's right, I am taking Suzuki violin. I figure if I can force my 4/5 year old to do it after his interest has waned, the least I can do is join him. And, I decided, looking at the pieces of music involved, that violin looked easier than piano. Both hands are working to make the same notes, not different agendas for each hand like that freaky piano thing Thing 1 does. The heavy lifting is performed by the left hand on the violin, so I am uniquely suited to it. I like it. Which is not to imply that I don't suck, but it makes me happy even to suck at it, so I will keep plugging along. Violin has the added benefit of eliciting this response from Sysguy: "Couldn't you play an instrument we actually already own"? Priceless.
Last Sunday Miles and I had a "Solo Party", which is apparently how they're avoiding the dreaded "R" word (recital) these days. Miles sawed out the extended dance remix of Twinkle Twinkle, version D, also known as "I like donuts you like donuts". Or, eighth notes. I felt for him, it was really long, but he hung in there. I, being an adult, have graduated to doing "Allegro", and I nailed it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I can be relied on to musically entertain with assertiveness for approximately 38 seconds. Give or take.
In the great scheme of things, Thing 1 (the elder), and Thing 2 (the younger) are very well behaved in the store, they don't beg for things or whine, they're just bored and energetic. So I feel like the nucleus of an atom and they are my whizzing protons. I hate keeping track of protons and trying to calculate prices per ounce in my head, it just makes me cranky. Sometimes our little atom loses a proton, and then all hell breaks loose. Mommy goes nuclear, and that's not pretty. Which is why they are generally well behaved.
The highlight of the day was, and I'm finding this is a strangely trendy thing to do, Thing 2 and my violin lesson. That's right, I am taking Suzuki violin. I figure if I can force my 4/5 year old to do it after his interest has waned, the least I can do is join him. And, I decided, looking at the pieces of music involved, that violin looked easier than piano. Both hands are working to make the same notes, not different agendas for each hand like that freaky piano thing Thing 1 does. The heavy lifting is performed by the left hand on the violin, so I am uniquely suited to it. I like it. Which is not to imply that I don't suck, but it makes me happy even to suck at it, so I will keep plugging along. Violin has the added benefit of eliciting this response from Sysguy: "Couldn't you play an instrument we actually already own"? Priceless.
Last Sunday Miles and I had a "Solo Party", which is apparently how they're avoiding the dreaded "R" word (recital) these days. Miles sawed out the extended dance remix of Twinkle Twinkle, version D, also known as "I like donuts you like donuts". Or, eighth notes. I felt for him, it was really long, but he hung in there. I, being an adult, have graduated to doing "Allegro", and I nailed it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I can be relied on to musically entertain with assertiveness for approximately 38 seconds. Give or take.
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