Last is Best

Jdog began cello lessons three weeks ago.  I don't think this little man has ever been so excited about anything.  We observed his teacher, Carey Cheney, for three months prior to his first lesson.  He received a cello for Christmas, and two weeks ago he proudly carried it--backpack style--into the Cheney cello studio.  His full-cheek, twinkly-eyed smile never once left his face.

Fast forward three weeks.  He still loves his cello.  He loves setting up his practice magic carpet.  He loves bowing and sitting on his own little stool.  But when it is time to pluck out a few rhythmic note patterns, he slumps over, grunts and says, "I'm tired."

I knew this would happen.  Even with his heart brimming with excitement about joining the strings community in our family, it's just hard to sit down and learn new things.  Especially when you're JJ, and new things make you a little uncomfortable.  And singing new songs in front of new people is something you don't really like to do.  But sweet JJ will sing every word to every song when no one is watching.  He rehearses the melodies and rhythms on his cello CD with exactness as we drive from place to place in the car.  But it's hard to put it all together in front of your mom, especially when you can sense she is losing patience as an hour of practice attempts tick by on the clock.

So, this morning after I got Aaron off to school, I was determined to make it to the end of his practice exercises.  We failed with each attempt in the past two days.  I sat there with him and told him I wasn't going anywhere.  "I'm not giving up on you, and I know you don't want to give up on cello.  It is hard, but you can do hard things."  Over and over again.

It took us two hours of attempts, but he did it.  It only took him 15 minutes when he actually got going. It was like something clicked in his mind--and he didn't need chocolate chip bribery or elaborate train tracks built--one piece for every exercise he completed.  All he needed to know was that I wasn't going anywhere.  I wasn't going to give up on practice.  So, he didn't give up either.

And then after it all I smothered him again and again with kisses, and "I'm so proud of you for doing hard things" praise.  And I am.  So stinking proud.

J has this thing going lately, "last is best of all the rest."  Sometimes it is extremely aggravating and inconvenient, and silly.  But today, if we had raced in some sort of cello practice contest we most certainly would have come in last.  But it was the best race of all the rest, I would say.

Right Where We Are

Well hello January 6th.  I am suffering from a severe case of self loathing. I wanted to go swimming tonight to drown my sweat and sorrows in the depth of the lap pool, but somehow I couldn't even accomplish that.  Forgot my darn wallet 3/4 of the way to the pool that closed in a half hour.  It was worthless to return.  That's what the husband said.  And he was right.  He was also right when he discovered the second bike that I popped on the bike trainer. Sometimes I hate it when he's right. He said it was wound much too tight. A metaphor for the past few days, I suppose.

I started crying in front of Mrs. Roller today.  I stopped in after hour seven hour journey to Logan and back with all the kiddos for Aaron's cochlear appointment.  On Monday morning--the first day back to school after the Christmas break--I rode my bike and read my book and was pumped to get Aaron back into a routine and ready to go.  I walked in his bedroom and saw the look on his face and knew that my sweet Aaron wouldn't be going anywhere that day.  He's been battling dizzy spells and GI bugs for the past 48 hours.  And when sweet Mrs. Roller patted me on the back today I just couldn't hold in the frustrated tears.

The odd thing is, I think Aaron sort of enjoys these days (to some extent).  Of course he could pass on the sick part, but he gets to be home, playing trains, reading with the boys, doing homework with mom, sharing his opinions and needs freely, etc. etc.  Given the choice, I don't think he'd choose a dizzy day over a first day back to school after Christmas break.  I'm 99% sure he's not faking it.  But seriously, if he wakes up dizzy tomorrow morning I'm going to tell him we have to do some blood work at the hospital.  Then we'll see if that 1% chance my child is a prodigy actor wins out.

We were, after all, dancing in the kitchen tonight.  That was far and away my favorite part of the day.  Not the questions I don't know how to answer.  Not my foiled attempts to build a hot bod.  Not the gaseous goals floating around in my head.  Nope.  Most definitely my favorite moment was when Davey bopped around in his minion PJs, JJ pounded out the beat on my squishy tummy, Aaron rolled his eyes when I wiggled a little too wildly, and when the husband slid his fingers between mine and swayed his hips against mine and sang the words, "baby--we found love right where we are..."

Yes we did, January 6th. Yes. We did.        

The New Year

Today I read that the way in which you spend the first day of the new year is the way you will spend the rest of the year. If this is the case, 2015 will be something like this:

Me: sleeping on the floor at my parents house so Davey will sleep soundly; waking early then ditching Christmas clean up (with loads of guilt) at my mom's to protect my crew from the flu; borrowing old snow clothes to join my boys' fun in freezing temps outside; Christmas clean up; and a silent run to reflect on my relationship with God, the universe and everything. 

The Husband: creating a midmorning snowmobiling adventure out of a bleak, indecisive, conflicted escape from Spork; cooking dinner for the fam while he sends me out to run off some steam; and pausing with wide eyes to realize that today was our "halfway through residency" mark.

Atrain: Deftly handling 45mph speeds behind the steering wheel of powerful snow machines, then (later) collapsing into a puddle of "it's not fair" tears when Jdog decides not to share dinosaurs. He also practiced his violin. (phew).

Jdog: Giving out his Christmas gum-balls according to recipients' favorite colors, sneakily stepping on Doodle's favorite "choo choos", and jumping on the couch and yelling expectantly, "who wants to snuggle?!" Also, he is kicking trash in our 3 day long monopoly game.    

Doodle: pushing step ladders around the house, relentlessly attempting to touch the cooking griddle, spreading smiles with his brothers and spending hours admiring his dada.

All in all, there will be tears. There will be adventures. There will be cleaning. There will be exercise and reflection. There will be managers: Atrain was assigned the manager of camping with the husband; Jdog is the manager of family prayer; and Doodlebug is the manager of cuteness. It was all decided over a dinner of ham fried rice so excellently cooked by the husband.

And there will be writing.  I miss exploring thoughts in words here and in my novel project.  Whether here or there, words will fly into being.

2015 could be a good year. A very good year indeed.