1. Super glue
It keeps my fingers from bleeding all over the keys.
2. Aveeno lotion
It helps me need less super glue. It's the only lotion I've found that I'll actually use more than once in a day. I hate greasy lotions, I hate smelly lotions, and I hate lotions that don't work.
3. My piano
4. My friends
I love having people who know everything (OK, ALMOST everything) about me who love me anyway, who understand that sometimes I'm a flake, sometimes I'm super busy, sometimes I need to talk RIGHT NOW, and most of the time I'll manage to be there for them, too, but will forgive me if I blow it. You guys are lifesavers. Seriously.
5. Bedtime for the munchkins
It's about the only time I'm getting really solid, long practicing done. I'm doing my technique and some run-through stuff during the day, but the solid stuff is happening late into the night. I'm not sure that's the best thing for my memory, considering that I'm slightly more brain dead at night, but I'll take what I can get!
6. David's support
David is being so incredibly cool about the time this recital preparation is taking. He is not only understanding about my evening practice hours, but he says nice things about listening to me practice, too. I could NOT be doing this without his willingness, and I'm incredibly grateful.
The things that I AM living without (for now) include:
1. A spotless house (it's actually not terrible, but it's certainly not the super-organized home I envisioned when I quit teaching).
2. Reading
Honestly, I have never read so little in my entire life. I think I've only read six or seven books this entire year. It's crazy. Piano and running have taken over my spare time, I'm afraid. I also decided I only want to read books that I REALLY like this year. I don't have time to waste on stupid books.
3. Photography
It's just not happening right now. I don't know if I've taken a picture since we got back from California.
The things that I will need to catch up on as soon as the recital is over:
1. Taxes (Aargh!)
2. Organizing (Double aargh!)
3. Giving back to all those people who've helped ME.
4. About a million things that have fallen through the cracks. I hope you'll forgive me, if one of those things that has fallen through the cracks has impacted you. I recognize that I've been living a bit in my own little world, but April 7 is right around the corner...
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sick Kids
I'm not very nice to my sick kids.
I'm not MEAN to them, but I'm not the sympathetic nurse type. I TRY to be. I get soda for them and let them watch TV and take their temperatures, and read out loud to them, and give them medicine. But inwardly, I'm thinking, "Man. This is kind of a pain."
That's not very nice, is it?
Actually, it's kind of an inverse relationship. When they're REALLY sick, with super high fevers, achey bodies, and they're all-around really very miserable, I'm actually quite kind. The sicker they are, the nicer I am, and I'm not faking it. I really hate to see my kids in pain. But when it's the fifth day of the flu, and they're now just kind of under the weather, and the TV's been on for hours every day, and I'm thinking that I'm kind of done with the whole thing, well, I stop with all the niceties and start suggesting it might be time to practice, or do homework, or go back to school, or stop complaining, or just go to bed if they can't think of anything to do but watch TV.
And when I'm not really sure that they're sick at all? When they just MIGHT be crying wolf? Like when one child in particular complains Every Single Day about yet another different ailment?
I'm kind of a bear. A really snappy, unsympathetic bear who tells kids to suck it up and go to school already.
I guess I need to practice my nursing skills. And I get to! Lucky me! Josh is on his fourth day of the flu, and I'm a little worried that Kate is coming down with it, if her sniffles and sore throat and general grumpiness is any indication.
I have been pretty good this time around. Josh has been REALLY sick. His fever is high, his eyes look sunken (yes, I'm throwing liquids at him left and right) and he's worn out and weak, and I just wish I could help him feel all better. Poor guy. So with all this real suffering, I've been feeling very kind and loving. The inverse relationship, remember? We've started reading Lord of the Rings together and he's digging that. I've made him hot chocolate, smoothies, brought him root beer floats, taken him to the doctor, gone to the library for new books for him... That's all pretty good. But I'm kind of running out of ideas.
So what do all of you kind and sympathetic moms do when your kids are sick? What makes your kids feel loved and protected? Maybe I just need something new in my bag of tricks...
I'm not MEAN to them, but I'm not the sympathetic nurse type. I TRY to be. I get soda for them and let them watch TV and take their temperatures, and read out loud to them, and give them medicine. But inwardly, I'm thinking, "Man. This is kind of a pain."
That's not very nice, is it?
Actually, it's kind of an inverse relationship. When they're REALLY sick, with super high fevers, achey bodies, and they're all-around really very miserable, I'm actually quite kind. The sicker they are, the nicer I am, and I'm not faking it. I really hate to see my kids in pain. But when it's the fifth day of the flu, and they're now just kind of under the weather, and the TV's been on for hours every day, and I'm thinking that I'm kind of done with the whole thing, well, I stop with all the niceties and start suggesting it might be time to practice, or do homework, or go back to school, or stop complaining, or just go to bed if they can't think of anything to do but watch TV.
And when I'm not really sure that they're sick at all? When they just MIGHT be crying wolf? Like when one child in particular complains Every Single Day about yet another different ailment?
I'm kind of a bear. A really snappy, unsympathetic bear who tells kids to suck it up and go to school already.
I guess I need to practice my nursing skills. And I get to! Lucky me! Josh is on his fourth day of the flu, and I'm a little worried that Kate is coming down with it, if her sniffles and sore throat and general grumpiness is any indication.
I have been pretty good this time around. Josh has been REALLY sick. His fever is high, his eyes look sunken (yes, I'm throwing liquids at him left and right) and he's worn out and weak, and I just wish I could help him feel all better. Poor guy. So with all this real suffering, I've been feeling very kind and loving. The inverse relationship, remember? We've started reading Lord of the Rings together and he's digging that. I've made him hot chocolate, smoothies, brought him root beer floats, taken him to the doctor, gone to the library for new books for him... That's all pretty good. But I'm kind of running out of ideas.
So what do all of you kind and sympathetic moms do when your kids are sick? What makes your kids feel loved and protected? Maybe I just need something new in my bag of tricks...
Friday, March 20, 2009
Disneyland
It was a rather perfect Disneyland day.
You must know, I am not the hugest Disneyland fan. I have many childhood memories of long lines, sore feet, and being grumpy at my parents. Growing up near Anaheim kind of robbed me of that Disneyland magic. We'd hit the park anytime relatives were in town, and if I remember right, once I even stayed in the parking lot in my grandparents' motorhome reading to avoid the TORTURE that was a day in Disneyland. That's just the kind of nice kid I was.
Fast forward a few (OK, a lot) of years, and I must admit, this was a treat of a day. The kids earned the privilege by finishing the Book of Mormon (David's idea. I have mixed feelings. Don't judge me.) and let me tell you, they worked hard to finish. We knew that Matt's wedding was coming up and we read and read and read to get close, then we read and read and read on the trip down, then we read and read and read on the Sunday after the wedding, and we DID it. Congrats, kids. We had some really nice discussions, too, I'll admit.
The kids talked Chad into coming with us, and that made the day even more magical. Three adults and four kids is a nice proportion for a day in the Magic Kingdom, and Chad is fantastic with my kids. Thank you, brother. You're amazing.
Short lines, overcast but warmish weather, happy kids, happy grown-ups, darling Ben on Dumbo and the carousel, Kate swinging on Chad's arm...
Maybe it isn't REALLY the Happiest Place on Earth, but I'll vote for our day there as pretty darned lovely.
You must know, I am not the hugest Disneyland fan. I have many childhood memories of long lines, sore feet, and being grumpy at my parents. Growing up near Anaheim kind of robbed me of that Disneyland magic. We'd hit the park anytime relatives were in town, and if I remember right, once I even stayed in the parking lot in my grandparents' motorhome reading to avoid the TORTURE that was a day in Disneyland. That's just the kind of nice kid I was.
Fast forward a few (OK, a lot) of years, and I must admit, this was a treat of a day. The kids earned the privilege by finishing the Book of Mormon (David's idea. I have mixed feelings. Don't judge me.) and let me tell you, they worked hard to finish. We knew that Matt's wedding was coming up and we read and read and read to get close, then we read and read and read on the trip down, then we read and read and read on the Sunday after the wedding, and we DID it. Congrats, kids. We had some really nice discussions, too, I'll admit.
The kids talked Chad into coming with us, and that made the day even more magical. Three adults and four kids is a nice proportion for a day in the Magic Kingdom, and Chad is fantastic with my kids. Thank you, brother. You're amazing.
Short lines, overcast but warmish weather, happy kids, happy grown-ups, darling Ben on Dumbo and the carousel, Kate swinging on Chad's arm...
Maybe it isn't REALLY the Happiest Place on Earth, but I'll vote for our day there as pretty darned lovely.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Essay
Hey, I got an essay published. Well, kind of published. OK, not really published, but it's on a website for Mormon women. Therefore, you can assume it's about spirituality, and you've been duly warned. If you'd like to click over, you are welcome.
Anyway, this makes almost three posts in a row on a spiritual bent (if you ignore the Poptarts. I am ignoring Poptarts. I only eat them when I run a really long time). I apologize to those of you who prefer programming as usual and promise I will get back to normal now.
Anyway, this makes almost three posts in a row on a spiritual bent (if you ignore the Poptarts. I am ignoring Poptarts. I only eat them when I run a really long time). I apologize to those of you who prefer programming as usual and promise I will get back to normal now.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
On Perfectionism
Every second Wednesday morning, you will find me in Kate's kindergarten class. It's Mommy Helper day, and while I am tired by the end of it (bless you, all you teachers. You amaze me), I am also surprised at the insights into humanity I receive while watching children learn. It's not as in your face as being in the junior high lunchroom, of course, but MAN, there is a lot of variety in our souls, isn't there?
Today, my job was to help make a butterfly mobile. Each child was to trace a small, a medium, and a large butterfly onto construction paper, cut out the butterflies, and decorate them in a symmetrical way. Simple enough? For most of the kids, six months into kindergarten, yes. But there was one incident that still has me thinking.
A. is a beautiful boy with lashes that I might kill for. I've never noticed anything unusual about him until today. But when it was time to trace his butterfly, he came unglued, over and over again.
"I can't DO this."
"Will you do this FOR me?"
"I CAN'T DO THIS!"
He would trace over the same section of wing, and anytime his finger moved the diecut he was tracing, he tried to put it right back into place and then retrace that same section.
I said, "Hey, A., it's okay if the tracing isn't perfect. It's really fine if you just try your best."
He said, "NO. It has to be PERFECT. It's not GOOD ENOUGH"
We had the same conversation six or seven times. He kept asking if I would do it for him, and I kept saying, "Let's just ignore the problems and try again," and he would tell me that he wanted it just right. It couldn't be messy.
By the end of the third butterfly, A. was in tears, and I wanted to throw my arms around him, put him on my lap, and hug him tight. I wondered what impulse was making him feel that perfection was the only option. I wanted to heal him of it and watch him do as sloppy a job as most of the other kindergarten boys had done. I wanted him to enjoy just the effort of trying and to forget about being perfect. After all, the end result was not the important thing...it was the process that was important.
As I struggled to communicate to A. that "good enough" can really BE good enough, I felt a strong impulse come over me, an understanding that my Heavenly Father feels the same way about me. How often have I struggled with a feeling of inferiority because of my lack of perfection? How often have I cried and struggled and yelled that I wasn't GOOD ENOUGH? I'm sure Heavenly Father has wanted to throw His arms around me, hold me tight and let me know that he just wants me to give it a good effort, and if necessary, grace will make up for the rest.
Sweet A. He finally finished his butterflies, and they were pretty darned good. I can guarantee that they were certainly good enough.
Today, my job was to help make a butterfly mobile. Each child was to trace a small, a medium, and a large butterfly onto construction paper, cut out the butterflies, and decorate them in a symmetrical way. Simple enough? For most of the kids, six months into kindergarten, yes. But there was one incident that still has me thinking.
A. is a beautiful boy with lashes that I might kill for. I've never noticed anything unusual about him until today. But when it was time to trace his butterfly, he came unglued, over and over again.
"I can't DO this."
"Will you do this FOR me?"
"I CAN'T DO THIS!"
He would trace over the same section of wing, and anytime his finger moved the diecut he was tracing, he tried to put it right back into place and then retrace that same section.
I said, "Hey, A., it's okay if the tracing isn't perfect. It's really fine if you just try your best."
He said, "NO. It has to be PERFECT. It's not GOOD ENOUGH"
We had the same conversation six or seven times. He kept asking if I would do it for him, and I kept saying, "Let's just ignore the problems and try again," and he would tell me that he wanted it just right. It couldn't be messy.
By the end of the third butterfly, A. was in tears, and I wanted to throw my arms around him, put him on my lap, and hug him tight. I wondered what impulse was making him feel that perfection was the only option. I wanted to heal him of it and watch him do as sloppy a job as most of the other kindergarten boys had done. I wanted him to enjoy just the effort of trying and to forget about being perfect. After all, the end result was not the important thing...it was the process that was important.
As I struggled to communicate to A. that "good enough" can really BE good enough, I felt a strong impulse come over me, an understanding that my Heavenly Father feels the same way about me. How often have I struggled with a feeling of inferiority because of my lack of perfection? How often have I cried and struggled and yelled that I wasn't GOOD ENOUGH? I'm sure Heavenly Father has wanted to throw His arms around me, hold me tight and let me know that he just wants me to give it a good effort, and if necessary, grace will make up for the rest.
Sweet A. He finally finished his butterflies, and they were pretty darned good. I can guarantee that they were certainly good enough.
Monday, March 16, 2009
On Temples
So I read this post about Mormon temples, and although I believe most of my readers are LDS, I know there are a few that are not. I hope this isn't too churchy. I tend to keep my spiritual stuff on my Small Plates blog, because I hate to drench people in my spiritual life who don't share my same views. However, I thought this post was just about how I feel about the temple, and with the whole hubbub about the Big Love controversy, I thought, well, what the heck? (And I must say, the first paragraph is a little strong for me. I don't have QUITE the same reaction as the post's author, but the rest is really spot on for me.)
So, here it is. You certainly don't have to click on it if you don't want to... (Did that make you want to? Good reverse psychology, huh?) No, really, you don't have to. It won't bother me a bit if you don't.
So, here it is. You certainly don't have to click on it if you don't want to... (Did that make you want to? Good reverse psychology, huh?) No, really, you don't have to. It won't bother me a bit if you don't.
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