Delete

You know when you write something on your blog, and you intend for it to sound tongue-in-cheek, but then you reread it later and realize that it just sounds bitter? I hate it when that happens.

And then I delete the evidence of my error. :-)

Motherhood

When I was 24 years old, I did my student teaching in music at a junior high school in Utah. I had the opportunity to meet many wonderful kids and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

One of the students who made a particularly strong impression on me was a 14-year-old boy named Michael. Michael was in the 7th grade. Due to complications at birth, he had learning disabilities, so he had been held back twice in school. He was also quite small for his age. Michael told me that when he was born, his delivery didn't go well and he'd almost died. After telling me his history, he said, "My mom's real happy that I lived." I could imagine the conversations that they might have had. I pictured his mom telling him every year on his birthday, and on every major holiday, and maybe at times for no particular reason, how happy she was that he was alive.

I could tell that Michael came from a good home. In spite of his disabilities, he was confident. He was very kind to other kids, and I was glad to see that he was quite popular. He was not your average surly teenager -- he was cheerful and open and sweet. In addition to being small, he wore glasses, had blond hair, and he had the face of an angel.

Michael was in the brass class and he played the tuba. He was able to get an amazing sound on the tuba and he had great rhythm. The only thing that he struggled with was memorizing the fingerings for each note. He had to practice 5 times harder than the other kids to learn the music, but his practice paid off. He was a great little tuba player.

My cooperating teacher turned over all of his classes to me, with the exception of this brass class. (I think he was afraid they would eat me alive.) On one particular day, he was going to administer a playing test in the brass class. Michael forgot that there would be a test that day, and he was very upset when he got to class and was reminded of that fact. He asked me if there was any way that he could do the playing test the next day. I talked to my cooperating teacher, who told me that I could take Michael into one of the practice rooms and work with him the whole hour, and then Michael could do the playing test at the end of the class period.

Michael and I worked very hard on that piece. It was a march, so it was not something that he could play slowly for the test. He was struggling to play it up to tempo, though, because it was difficult for him to remember the fingerings for each note, so we ended up writing in the valve combinations above each note. Michael practiced the piece over and over, and by the end of the class period, he was playing it up to tempo.

We went back into the band room so that Michael could have his turn at playing the piece. When he got ready to play, I was so nervous for him. I wanted him to do well because I knew how hard he had worked and I knew how nervous he was. I said a silent prayer that he would be able to play it as well as he had in the practice room. I really wanted him to succeed, and I wanted the playing test to be a positive experience for him.

When he started playing, I was happy (and enormously relieved) to hear him play it exceptionally well. He played the march up to tempo, he got a great sound out of his tuba, and he didn't falter or hesitate on even one note. He nailed it. I don't think that his own mother could have been prouder of him than I was at that moment (although I'm sure she would have been equally proud). I wondered if the other kids in the class had any idea what an accomplishment this was for Michael. To most of the other kids, that playing test was no big deal. I wondered if they could appreciate what a triumph it was for Michael.

I got my answer soon enough. The instant Michael was done playing, the entire class erupted into applause. Everyone cheered and whistled for him. "Bravo!" and "Encore!" were yelled. The congratulations continued after the bell rang and they were all packing up their instruments. It was like they were a team and Michael had just scored the game-winning point.

That was the day I fell in love with an entire class of teenage brass players (and one little tuba player in particular). It was also the day I knew that, whether or not I ever got married and had children, I was a mother.

Beautiful

I don't really have anything in common with the late John Lennon. Well, except two things: He loved music, I love music. He loved his boys, I love my boys. I love them so much it hurts sometimes.

I enjoy "Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)" -- I can relate to the hopes and dreams John Lennon had for his son, which he expressed so beautifully in this song. I remember my own parents comforting me after I'd have a nightmare, and now I do the same for my own children. It's pretty universal, this desire parents have to help their children feel safe, and the hopes they have that their children will grow to be beautiful adults. And yes, there is a lot of prayer involved.

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)

Close your eyes,
Have no fear.
The monster's gone,
He's on the run and your daddy's here.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy.

Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer.
Every day, in every way,
It's getting better and better.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy.

Out on the ocean, sailing away,
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age.
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient,
'Cause it's a long way to go,
A hard row to hoe.
Yes, it's a long way to go,
But in the meantime...

Before you cross the street,
Take my hand.
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy.
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy.

Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer.
Every day, in every way,
It's getting better and better.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy.
Darling, darling, darling,
Darling Sean.

Oddity

So yesterday, I was in my bedroom typing an email to a friend, when out in the backyard there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a yelling man on a horse, followed by a bunch of barking dogs, chasing a cow through the orange grove behind our house.

Okay...

(People, I couldn't make this stuff up.)

Rodeo

Our little town hosts a rodeo every year in April. We had been planning for over a year to attend the rodeo this year (it took place April 24-26) with our dear friends, Rick and Rebecca (and their three children), who were going to come stay with us that weekend. About a week before the rodeo, Tim realized that in order to earn all of his required CE credits by the deadline this year, he would need to attend a conference that same weekend up in Berkeley. We were all so disappointed! Rick and Rebecca decided to come another weekend so that they could visit with Tim, too.

I still planned to attend the rodeo on Saturday, although I almost changed my mind. I had a baby shower to go to that morning, Parker and I were both asked to speak in church on Sunday and we needed to work on our talks, and our house was a disaster. There was just too much to do, and I didn't think I could get it all done before the rodeo that evening. I started thinking that maybe the boys and I should stay home and clean the house and work on our talks.

Thankfully, Rebecca called that morning and said, "Hey, we want to come for the rodeo! We know Tim won't be there, but we'll just come for the rodeo and head home when it's over. We would be bummed to miss it and we want to see you guys." Yay! That was just the push I needed to hurry and get things done. I decided the house could just stay messy. (It's messy every other day -- why should that day have been any different?) I finished up the research on my talk and we were almost ready to go when Rick and Rebecca arrived with their children, Dean, Grace, and Isaac.

The evening was replete with good rodeo food (tri-tip burritos, corn on the cob, cowboy beans, and strawberry shortcake), good company, and good rodeo-ing. Rebecca is one of those friends who is like a sister, so getting to spend an evening with her and her family seriously made my month. We have been there for each other over the last 13+ years, and I feel so blessed to have a friend like her. I was with her when she was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and we've supported one another through good times (births of children, her marriage to Rick, new jobs, etc.) and bad. It was a hard day when Tim and I moved from the Bay Area to Central California -- I knew how difficult it was going to be to not get to see Rebecca almost daily. Anyway, I was very glad to get to spend some time with Rebecca and Rick for a few hours at the rodeo.

Thanks, Rebecca and Rick, for saving us from an evening of lameness! We love you guys. And thanks, Rick, for actually bringing a camera. (I can't believe I forgot mine.)

Only three of the six kids sat still long enough for Rick to get pictures -- Parker, Luke, and Isaac. (Jack, Dean, and Grace apparently hid from the camera. So did Rebecca and I.) Next year, we'll have to make sure to get a group shot.

Oh, and a special thanks to my friend, Brook, for loaning me some cowboy boots for the evening and for coming along with us to the rodeo with her three boys. It was fun to have two of my dear friends, Brook and Rebecca, meet. (And Brook, I promise I'll get my own boots before next year's rodeo!)


Luke, acting like a monkey on crack. Get a load of the beans, corn on the cob, and tri-tip burrito.


Parker and Isaac, chillin' on the bench.

Luke and Isaac. Luke is literally kicking up his heel (and sticking out his tongue) for some reason. Notice how well-behaved Isaac is.