...when I run around like I'm only wearing one half of the chicken suit, trying to get kids to this event, or that, finding out we don't have the right outfit, or the right shoes for the concert.
Last night was the girls' spring concert. Ruth did amazingly well for her last concert, despite the pre-concert hiccup. I wasn't sure how it would go, because she was distressed beforehand. Jeremy had to work, and there wasn't any way he could get out of it. One set of grandparents, my parents, weren't coming. An hour before showtime, Ruth's big brown eyes grew wide, and watered up.
"What's wrong baby?" I asked
"Nothing," she said, as a small tear tracked down her cheek
"No one is coming." she said quietly.
"Nana and P-pop might. I think they are. But you'll have Joshua, Hannah and I there, at least"
Another tear tracked down her cheek. Then a few more after that. Not more than five or six tears, but still, she cried and broke my heart. I bribed her back to good cheer with hot rollers and the ability to wear lip gloss and some light blush. Thankfully, Nana and P-pop did show up, and she smiled between songs throughout the whole concert. I recorded everything: band, chorus, and the third-grade recorder Karate.
What is Recorder Karate? It's a way to allow the students to progress through the recorder music at their own pace. Each song they pass, they get a new "belt" (a piece of embroidery floss in a different color tied to the bottom of their recorder). After a student gets through all their "belts' they can work on earning beads, which are tied onto the bottom of the 'belts." When Joshua was in third grade, he viewed the whole "Recorder Karate" as a competition. I saw and heard the recorder every single solitary night as he attempted to take down his fellow third graders by being the first and only one to complete all belts and beads and go on beyond. He even figured out how to play "The Bear Went Over the Mountain" without the music. In fact, for awhile there, the recorder took precedence over the drums. Scary thought.
Ruth approached the whole "Recorder Karate" program with more sensibility. She didn't obsess or compete, but she didn't slack either. I can't recall how far along she got, but it was pretty close to the end of the 'belts." Unfortunately, only a few years ago, did the music teacher invite the third graders to play their recorder karate selections at the spring concert. So I never did get to hear Ruthie play with her classmates.
Hannah on the other hand, well, lets just say, I never saw the recorder in her hot little hand until last night. If last night could even count. Oh sure, she had it in her hand, but playing it? That is the question at hand.
This morning, because Ruth's french horn was home, she took it out of the case and began playing it. Joshua, always in competition with the world, attempted to make a noise and couldn't. I heard Ruth's voice as she sang, taunting him, "You can't play it. You can't make a sound and I caa-aan. Ha ha ha ha ha ha." So she took the horn back, played some more notes, and sang "ha ha ha ha ha ha" again.
A few minutes later, as Joshua and I were bundled into the van, he pursed his lips and began buzzing them.
"What are you doing?" I asked, "Trying to figure out how to make the embouchure for the french horn?"
"What's that?" He asked
"The way you hold your mouth when you play an instrument. Each instrument has a different embouchure," I answered.
"Oh. Well you see. Ruth taunted me, she sang 'ha ha ha ha ha you can't make a sound and I caaaaannn' and now it's a competition. I MUST make a sound. so I MUST practice."
I confess, sometimes it's a little frightening to get glimpses into the minds of my children.
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