David's piano recital

Hooray for David!  His piano recital was on Monday.  And he rocked it!

(Please ignore the fact that he looks like he'd been crying in that picture.  He was still decompressing from a stressful day at school.  David was quite excited about the recital, especially since there was going to be cookies afterwards, as he had reminded us hourly for the past week.)

David took a 10-week beginning piano class at a local arts studio.  It's been wonderful.  The teacher is a music therapist.  So it was perfectly natural for her to include lots of movement and physicality, with an emphasis on connecting their whole bodies with music.  She is also very comfortable with wiggles.  So it was perfect for David!  He was free to be expressive and enthusiastic.

The best part was giving David the opportunity to see that practice works.  The first few weeks he really struggled with the coordination and dexterity in his fingers.  But we pushed through the discomfort, and I encouraged (okay, forced) him to practice...and, like magic, the practice worked!  By the third week of class, his fingers were comfortable, and he was able to breeze through the material.  He felt proud of himself, and he could see the effects of a little practice.  (Note:  When I say, a "little" practice, I mean it.  We're talking about 3 minutes 3 times a week.  Which, to be perfectly honest, is what I averaged  per week during my ten years of lessons.  Sorry, Mrs. Swan.)

I spent the remaining seven weeks trying to convince him that you don't play with a hand in your pocket.  David seems to think that whenever a hand is not in use, the perfect place for it is in his pocket.  (What is it with little boys and pockets??)  Watching him play is watching his right hand go in his pocket while his left hand plays a few notes, and then his left hand goes into his pocket while the right hand plays a few notes, and so on.

 "David, get your hand out of your pocket!  Leave it on the keys"  "But I don't need it right now."  "But you will in about 2 seconds, so just leave it where it needs to be!"

We made some progress.  Some.

On the final day of class, the children had a little recital.  As you will see, it was a brief, low-key affair (with cookies afterwards!!). It was just right.

David at his piano ...

The class performed a warm-up together.  Video HERE.  (Watch a few seconds to see just how wiggly David is.  It's kind of funny.)

Then it was time for their solos.  David performed "Lost Little Kitty," and he did a super job!!  (This is the kid who a few months ago couldn't even get his fingers to play one key at a time.)  Also, he did not put his hands in his pockets!!  Not once! This is a HUGE accomplishment!  Huge. HUGE.  Video HERE.  It is very sweet to me.  (And did I mention he didn't put his hands in his pockets?)

Ta-duh!

We're so proud of David!

As a finale, the class played a song together.  (One little boy couldn't make it, so the teacher filled in for him.)  I love watching this video because it is so David!  He flails and wiggles and grins and can't stand still--but he's totally into it and right on task.  (Plus, he only put his hand in his pocket once!)  Watch the finale HERE.

Then we ate cookies.

The best laid plans

Last week Greg and I reached that milestone of a decade of marriage.  We celebrated...sort of.

With the help of three wonderful friends, I coordinated a whole day of school pick-ups and play dates so that Greg and I could escape to Chicago for the day.  The drive alone (three hours each way without whining and the sounds of Pokemon videos coming for the backseat) had me giddy.  Also, we planned to go to the temple together.  TOGETHER.  That is like the ultimate treat.  And it seemed an appropriate way to celebrate ten years of marriage.

Then David got sick.  But he got better.  Phew!

Then Mary got sick.  And she did not get better.  Boo!

Oh well.  But there were touches of celebration last week...

Greg arranged to have the piano tuned.  I think of the piano as my 10-year anniversary gift.  We actually got it a month  before our ninth anniversary.  But, somehow, it has become in my mind a mark of 10 years.  For me it represents real life and adulthood and stability, some measure of which we have reached after 10 years.  It also shows that my husband loves me (because isn't there something terribly romantic about a husband buying a piano for his wife?)  So having the piano tuned last week was fitting.

Also, on the day of, Greg brought me tulips and Dr. Pepper.

Then, on Friday (the day we'd arranged to spend in Chicago), my heart was still aching for the peace and quiet of the temple, even though Mary wasn't well enough to be passed off to other moms.  (Seriously, I think I am getting addicted to the temple.  I think this may say less about the temple than the amount of chaos and disquiet and messiness in my life!  I am desperate to escape!)  So we tossed an improving Mary into the car, picked David up at school, and drove to Chicago after all.  (Who says kids have to be sick on the couch?  They can be sick in the car...and in a hotel...right?)

So it was a quick, terribly unromantic trip of truck stop meals, separate temple sessions, and cramped double beds.  (Also, we had to rush home right away Saturday for a previously scheduled and very important play date of David's with his BFF.)  And then we spent Saturday afternoon and evening at separate church meetings (it was stake conference weekend), and then we juggled the kids in church on Sunday morning through the marathon that is a multi-congregational, stake conference meeting.

We celebrated our ten-year-anniversary with a whirlwind of sick kids, car time, separate church meetings, outpourings of the Spirit, general grouchiness, arguments, much-needed naps, heartfelt conversations, cereal-for-dinner, inspiration, the BFF, tears of happiness, tears of sadness, reflection, exhaustion, procrastination, and did I mention those cramped double beds?

Somehow it was perfectly appropriate.  We have hopes of escaping to Chicago alone for a day, a night, and a day sometime this year.  (Do you know I have NEVER BEEN TO THE ART INSTITUTE???!!)  I also feel very grateful for the celebration of our 8-year-anniversary.  Yet, to mark 10 years, the imperfect--the very very imperfect--was perfect.



P.S.  Actually, the very best anniversary present was a perfectly normal, unremarkable, average, run of the mill, rather pleasant (pleasant!), tantrum-free Family Home Evening last night.  We did it!!  Finally! (And it only took 10 years!)

Piano

Guess what.

I'm a grown-up now.

Why?

I have a piano!

For years I have been saving my pennies, occasionally perusing Craig's List and checking the inventory at local piano sellers, waiting for the right piano at the right time. I have been patient--something that is not easy for me. I have seen lovely pianos come and go, and I've been tempted by the occasional freebie in need of some tender care. But nothing called out to me, as anxious as I was to have a piano in our home. I knew whatever piano we brought into our home would my one and only piano until the day I die. So I waited as the little pot of piano money grew, and I trusted that my heart would tell me when I'd found the right piano.

And my heart did.

One Monday morning, right after I got home from the gym, I was heading straight to the shower when I felt I should look at Craig's List at right that moment. I hadn't looked in a while, thinking that maybe I'd wait until summer or fall to start looking seriously again. (For years, every few months I start looking really seriously, only to give up because the timing seems wrong.) But I couldn't shake the feeling that I should look right then. So I did, only to find the usual digital pianos, American console pianos, and way-too-grand-for-our-home grand pianos. But then I scrolled down, and there it was, the perfect piano, posted for sale five days earlier.

Five days is an eternity on Craig's List. I was sure that the piano had already sold, and the seller hadn't bothered to remove the posting. But my heart was pounding with hope. I called right away, and I knew the moment I talked to Bruce, whose piano was indeed still for sale, that he was going to be getting a huge wad of cash from me very soon. He seemed pleased that such a nice family (if that's what you'd like to call us) was interested in the piano. His daughter had fallen in love with music on that piano, and it had been lovingly cared for since they had purchased it new. We made arrangements to meet later that day.

Of course this happened during an especially busy week. Taking off for a few hours to buy a piano wasn't on the agenda. But nothing was coming between me and that piano!

As soon as Greg got home from class, I asked him to put his studying aside to go buy a piano. We piled the kids into the car and drove to lovely little New Glarus (America's Little Switzerland). On the way, we drove through a tiny town and stopped at their local bank for all of that cash we were going to need. We bank through USAA, so we don't have a local bank. I am grateful for the kind people at that small bank branch seemingly in the middle of nowhere who were willing to help us out. I knew we could get the cash through USAA in a timely manner, and I trusted that Bruce would hold the piano a day or two (or more) for us, but I knew I would not sleep until I had bought that piano. And I wanted to wake up the very next morning well-rested.

Bruce met us downtown, and we followed him to his house, which he'd built on his father's farm where he'd grown up. We all trampled into his house, and he showed us the piano. There it was. My piano. Such peace in my soul! We dutifully played it and looked inside. Greg called his mom for some last second advice. (Check the soundboard.) Bruce was pleased that the piano was going to the "right" people. And, just as I predicted, Bruce got a big wad of cash from us that day.

On our way out, Bruce commented on how we both drive Subarus. Then he mentioned that his wife also drives a Subaru. And then we said we actually have two Subarus too. (Of course, we all took this to be a sign of some cosmic connection.) Bruce decided this was just further confirmation that the right piano was passing to the right people. (I personally thought it was meant to be because Bruce is an ice fisherman. It seems only fitting, with my recent fascination with ice fishing, that my piano would come from an expert on the matter.)

On our way home, at Bruce's suggestion, we stopped for dinner at Ticino's underneath the New Glarus Hotel. Very local and very fun. It was even all you can eat spaghetti and meatball night. (But my favorite was the cheese table. There was a table set up near the salad bar with several blocks of different kinds of cheese. Any time the mood should strike, you could saunter over and chop off a hunk of cheese.) It made for the perfect way to finish off our little piano-buying adventure.

When I had woken up that morning, I had no idea I was going to buy a piano that day. But I did. And I slept very well that night.

The next day a crew of professionals delivered our piano.

So guess what.

I'm a grown-up now. I have a piano!

I'm not sure why--more than college degrees or marriage or children or buying a house--having a piano is what definitively marks my status as a real, true, honest-to-goodness grown-up. Perhaps because I so clearly remember when my parents got their piano, and they were definitely grown-ups, so maybe I am too. Perhaps because a piano is so big and difficult to move that it represents the kind of stability grown-ups are supposed to have. Perhaps because a piano fits into the rhythms of family life--Christmas carols, teaching your kids to play chopsticks, the tinkling of piano keys in the background, hymns, piano lessons one day--the kind of family life grown-ups have. Whatever the reason, I love the sense of peace and joy that comes from having a piano in our home.

The funny part is that I don't even play well. I'm what happens when you take lessons for twelve years but don't bother to practice much. Pathetic, I know. But I studied long enough to develop a love and appreciation for music. I also think there's a passion for music in my genes, passed along from my dad. I remember how excited my dad was when he got a piano for his family. I remember how happy he was to sit and play (even though he's not especially good either). And now I am him.

I've brought a piano into our home, and I love it.

P.S. In case you're wondering, the piano is a Kawai studio piano. I grew up playing on a Yamaha, and all of my piano teachers had Yahamas and Kawais. So I was holding out for one or the other, which, to me, feel and sound very similar, if not the same. The piano is in a dark walnut finish. It is not glossy, which is good, because I would never get around to cleaning off the finger prints.

Jealous

Our piano was delivered yesterday afternoon.

More about the piano later. This week is much busier than usual. I don't have time to play the piano, let alone blog about it.

Mary has been playing the piano nearly every waking moment since it arrived. I am jealous.