I like to keep things on schedule. I have a certain time that I like to have dinner, clean up the house, have the kids in bed. But last night, since we had to see the dentist in the afternoon, my entire bedtime schedule was thrown off. And I have this horrifying tendency to hurry my kids along, especially Bianca when she's dinking around on the piano instead of practicing her assigned pieces for the week. But last night, I was busy folding and putting away laundry and I decided to just let Bianca dink around. And fifteen minutes later, she had created a new song.
I told her, however, that we didn't have time for her to write down the notes on her lined-music paper so could she just record herself and then she could take it all down later. After she videotaped herself and after she was finished practicing her assigned music, she wanted to watch the video. This video shows the way her brain works to come up with her music. I like watching the way she experiments with chords and tries to come up with the melody she's looking for.
It's hard with all the homework and practicing and chores and everything else an eight-year-old has to do to come up with a couple minutes to just tinker on the keys of a piano. I should let Bianca do it more often. I'm going to try to make an effort to sit back and not hurry her anymore when I can. Because for a lot of creative types, when the muse comes, you have to entertain it. Otherwise, the muse may not hurry back. Maybe some nights the homework can slide. Maybe sometimes we can be behind the schedule. After all, when a guest is in the house, you should definitely not hurry them out but allow them to linger--even if the guest is something as intangible as the muse. [This was the beginning of Rain on a Dark Mroning.]
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Mothering is a lot like playing chess
Bianca's getting ready for a chess tournament. She loves these things. She's still learning, but she has fun. And everyone gets a medal no matter where they finish, so Bianca loves to go so she has another medal to hang on the post of her bed. However, Bianca hadn't been going to chess club at school (which happens on Mondays and Wednesdays at lunch recess) because she'd rather play with friends. So I said, "No chess club, no tournament." However, I told her I'd still sign her up IF she played chess with either me or dad every night until the tournament. She agreed. After all, she received a marble chess set (straight from Eric's last trip to India) for Christmas and she likes to try it out a bit. So after doing multiplication flash cards and reading a chapter from Phantom of the Opera, we play chess (if Eric's not home from work) by the fire.
I'm a beginner. Bianca taught me how to play, and I admit that I'm not good. I'm still learning how to strategize and how to correctly use my pieces. And I'm overly aggressive (probably because I like to get the game over with so I can sit back and relax for the night). That's my time. Anyway, I've only won once. Bianca usually beats me. And Eric totally crushes me. But I'm a good sport (usually) and again, I'm still learning.
It's also no secret that I'm struggling with getting Portia to sleep at night. She's done with napping. And when I put her to bed, she just comes right out of her room. She has lost most every toy she's owned at least once (including dress-ups, all her Care Bears, her coveted Angelina Ballerina dolls, you get the point).
As usual, I put Portia to bed before Bianca and I started our chess game tonight. Out comes Portia. Once. Twice. Thrice (there goes the bluebird night light). Four times, five times, six times. I hate to spank, but. . . Seven, eight. And now here I finally go in to Portia's room, lay her in bed for the ninth time, and say, "The next time you get out of bed, you lose all your Angelina Ballerinas (which is only four of them as she's already had most of them taken away and can only earn one back per night). And that was it. I haven't heard a peep from her room since. I had my pawn in position to take out her king all along, and yet I didn't know how and when to use it. It would have been so much nicer had I said that the first time--then no spank, no dark room, no frustration.
I admit it: I'm still learning--at mothering and at chess.
I'm a beginner. Bianca taught me how to play, and I admit that I'm not good. I'm still learning how to strategize and how to correctly use my pieces. And I'm overly aggressive (probably because I like to get the game over with so I can sit back and relax for the night). That's my time. Anyway, I've only won once. Bianca usually beats me. And Eric totally crushes me. But I'm a good sport (usually) and again, I'm still learning.
It's also no secret that I'm struggling with getting Portia to sleep at night. She's done with napping. And when I put her to bed, she just comes right out of her room. She has lost most every toy she's owned at least once (including dress-ups, all her Care Bears, her coveted Angelina Ballerina dolls, you get the point).
As usual, I put Portia to bed before Bianca and I started our chess game tonight. Out comes Portia. Once. Twice. Thrice (there goes the bluebird night light). Four times, five times, six times. I hate to spank, but. . . Seven, eight. And now here I finally go in to Portia's room, lay her in bed for the ninth time, and say, "The next time you get out of bed, you lose all your Angelina Ballerinas (which is only four of them as she's already had most of them taken away and can only earn one back per night). And that was it. I haven't heard a peep from her room since. I had my pawn in position to take out her king all along, and yet I didn't know how and when to use it. It would have been so much nicer had I said that the first time--then no spank, no dark room, no frustration.
I admit it: I'm still learning--at mothering and at chess.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Playing in the snow
The first time it snowed this year, I was so excited for Bianca and Portia to play in it, but Portia wouldn't have anything to do with it. But today, out of no where, Portia decided she wanted to build a snowman. So, she convinced (without too much effort) Bianca to go out and play in the snow with her. They threw a lot of snowballs, made some snow angels, and then sculpted their masterpiece snowman. Afterwards, we sat by the fire and then had hot cocoa. Ah yes, this is what makes childhood fun. And I'm glad they got out there today because it's raining all the snow away tonight.
Ice Skating
Bianca doesn't do any sports. It's not that I haven't given her a chance to do them--we tried soccer, gymnastics, dancing, gymnastics, soccer again, gymnastics again. She is excited at the beginning but then it always just fizzles away. So here we are, on to her next thing. It's ice skating. They do ice skating lessons at the South Jordan skating rink and the lessons are really reasonable. I signed Bianca up for beginner and they moved her up to advanced on the first day. I took her this past weekend and was shocked with how quickly Bianca was picking everything up. And she was one of the (if not THE) best in the class. So here I am, dreaming and fantasizing about how she's going to be going to the Olympics. Yes, I know I have a problem. This will probably fizzle out too. But you never know. . .
Monday, January 4, 2010
Lights at Temple Square
We don't do this every year, but we had a completely blank Christmas week, so Eric and I bundled up the girls and headed to Temple Square to see the Christmas lights. They were so beautiful and it was wonderful--but I just wish I could find a time to enjoy them without ALL the other people. It was still fun!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Constructive Criticism
No matter how constructive you try to be, criticism is hard to take. And at first, constructive criticism always seems destructive.
Bianca is my music lover. She plays beautifully on the piano. Not only is she good at playing, but she just gets it. There’s something in her brain that allows her to feel something—to create—with her music that’s just not there for everyone. I played the piano for ten years in my childhood and never once thought that I could actually “create” out of what I knew—the notes on the page that signified a key, the timing, the key signatures. All that. But instinctively, Bianca creates. She has to have her muse (some days it’s far, far away but others it’s there and she spends a morning composing a new piece). She has this little folder full of her compositions and it shows the progression of her musical understanding. Now that she’s getting better, her pieces are getting more interesting—key signature changes, more complex rhythms—and more difficult for her to play. I thought it was funny that the song she wrote (and won) in Reflections this year (called “Birds' Chorus”) she had the hardest time playing.
After Bianca had been playing piano for two years, she decided she wanted to try out the orchestra at school. She learned to play the viola in a class setting. The problem with this is that the instructor doesn’t really have the time to individually help each student. While she’s learning the notes okay, her form isn’t great. She doesn’t use a lot of her bow and many times her bow slides off to the side, which makes her play more quietly and the sound is less pure. I noticed this at the Christmas concert last week when watching her in comparison with some of the other students. But now, as I try to encourage her to “use more bow” or to “slide straight up and down,” Bianca has just had it. She told me that moms aren’t supposed to criticize but to support their children. I understand what she’s saying. I really do. But how can I sit back and watch her doing something wrong and not correct it? If I don’t, who will?
I told her about my writing group. How I turn in my work and then I go and each person “constructively” tells me what I’m doing wrong, what I need to fix, and I leave most nights a little heartbroken. Yes, I’ve even cried on my drive home a couple times. It hurts to be criticized. BUT after a day or two contemplating what I’ve been told about my story, I start working. I rewrite and fix. And always, always after I’ve spent the time with my story, it’s better. It just is. And then I know that yes, I need to be a little heartbroken to get better.
Bianca listened to my story. I don’t know how much she related to playing the viola. I’m trying to back off. I guess I just need to let her learn on her own. But I still can’t get over that she’s going to learn some bad habits on her viola that are going to take her forever to correct if we don’t fix it soon. I know I’m a controlling mom. I know I push, sometimes too hard. But I feel like Bianca has been given a gift, a musical gift that not just everyone gets. I didn’t. I want her to live up to her potential. I want to build her up, but sometimes doesn’t she have to be broken down first? What’s acceptable for a mom to do? I want her to be the best she can. Is that so wrong?
Bianca is my music lover. She plays beautifully on the piano. Not only is she good at playing, but she just gets it. There’s something in her brain that allows her to feel something—to create—with her music that’s just not there for everyone. I played the piano for ten years in my childhood and never once thought that I could actually “create” out of what I knew—the notes on the page that signified a key, the timing, the key signatures. All that. But instinctively, Bianca creates. She has to have her muse (some days it’s far, far away but others it’s there and she spends a morning composing a new piece). She has this little folder full of her compositions and it shows the progression of her musical understanding. Now that she’s getting better, her pieces are getting more interesting—key signature changes, more complex rhythms—and more difficult for her to play. I thought it was funny that the song she wrote (and won) in Reflections this year (called “Birds' Chorus”) she had the hardest time playing.
After Bianca had been playing piano for two years, she decided she wanted to try out the orchestra at school. She learned to play the viola in a class setting. The problem with this is that the instructor doesn’t really have the time to individually help each student. While she’s learning the notes okay, her form isn’t great. She doesn’t use a lot of her bow and many times her bow slides off to the side, which makes her play more quietly and the sound is less pure. I noticed this at the Christmas concert last week when watching her in comparison with some of the other students. But now, as I try to encourage her to “use more bow” or to “slide straight up and down,” Bianca has just had it. She told me that moms aren’t supposed to criticize but to support their children. I understand what she’s saying. I really do. But how can I sit back and watch her doing something wrong and not correct it? If I don’t, who will?
I told her about my writing group. How I turn in my work and then I go and each person “constructively” tells me what I’m doing wrong, what I need to fix, and I leave most nights a little heartbroken. Yes, I’ve even cried on my drive home a couple times. It hurts to be criticized. BUT after a day or two contemplating what I’ve been told about my story, I start working. I rewrite and fix. And always, always after I’ve spent the time with my story, it’s better. It just is. And then I know that yes, I need to be a little heartbroken to get better.
Bianca listened to my story. I don’t know how much she related to playing the viola. I’m trying to back off. I guess I just need to let her learn on her own. But I still can’t get over that she’s going to learn some bad habits on her viola that are going to take her forever to correct if we don’t fix it soon. I know I’m a controlling mom. I know I push, sometimes too hard. But I feel like Bianca has been given a gift, a musical gift that not just everyone gets. I didn’t. I want her to live up to her potential. I want to build her up, but sometimes doesn’t she have to be broken down first? What’s acceptable for a mom to do? I want her to be the best she can. Is that so wrong?
Friday, December 18, 2009
Family Traditions
Ever since we moved Portia out of the crib, we've had hard nights. She now had her freedom. With that freedom, I guess she felt she could get up at any hour and play. I'd been awakened many nights with Portia playing in her room with her toys. That wouldn't really bother me too much, but she can't play quietly. Portia's playing involves a lot of singing, "talking" her friends, and opening & closing doors. Wandering through the house. We've had to take her bluebird nightlight away countless times.
Yesterday morning, after Eric left around 5 in the morning to work out, I couldn't sleep. So I got out of bed and saw that Portia's door was open. I looked all over and couldn't find her. I panicked. I worried that maybe Portia had slipped outside when Eric was leaving and he hadn't seen her. I imagined her roaming the cold, dark morning with barefeet in the snow, freezing. I imagined much worse things too, but I don't want to relive those now. Finally, I went downstairs and checked every room before I opened Bianca's door. As I did, I saw Portia in Bianca's bed snuggling with her. Bianca was still asleep.
I pulled Portia up and hugged her and hugged her. Thank goodness she was okay! And in retrospect, it's really quite sweet. Portia wandered downstairs and climbed into Bianca's bed. Bianca told me later that she had been in her bed about an hour. They both fell asleep.
Yesterday, I told Bianca about how my sister and I used to sleep in the same bed on Christmas Eve. I don't remember exactly how many times this happened, but I do remember specifically the night Susannah came home from being away at college that first year and how we were so happy to see each other again that we spent that night in the same bed. Bianca thought this might be the year that she and Portia can sleep together on Christmas Eve. I guess I don't see the harm in it. I love to carry on traditions. Like eating ice cream after recitals and performances (which we did on Wednesday after Bianca's viola duet). Family traditions are important. I hope someday that my kids will carry some of those same traditions on with their own families.
Yesterday morning, after Eric left around 5 in the morning to work out, I couldn't sleep. So I got out of bed and saw that Portia's door was open. I looked all over and couldn't find her. I panicked. I worried that maybe Portia had slipped outside when Eric was leaving and he hadn't seen her. I imagined her roaming the cold, dark morning with barefeet in the snow, freezing. I imagined much worse things too, but I don't want to relive those now. Finally, I went downstairs and checked every room before I opened Bianca's door. As I did, I saw Portia in Bianca's bed snuggling with her. Bianca was still asleep.
I pulled Portia up and hugged her and hugged her. Thank goodness she was okay! And in retrospect, it's really quite sweet. Portia wandered downstairs and climbed into Bianca's bed. Bianca told me later that she had been in her bed about an hour. They both fell asleep.
Yesterday, I told Bianca about how my sister and I used to sleep in the same bed on Christmas Eve. I don't remember exactly how many times this happened, but I do remember specifically the night Susannah came home from being away at college that first year and how we were so happy to see each other again that we spent that night in the same bed. Bianca thought this might be the year that she and Portia can sleep together on Christmas Eve. I guess I don't see the harm in it. I love to carry on traditions. Like eating ice cream after recitals and performances (which we did on Wednesday after Bianca's viola duet). Family traditions are important. I hope someday that my kids will carry some of those same traditions on with their own families.
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