identity crisis (not quite)

Every time I interview the bambini, I find myself stewing about some of their responses.  I know I know: I invite this by posing the questions to begin with, and I know that their responses might be different if I were to query the bambini again tomorrow in a different context.  All that aside, I basically borrowed the question Jesus poses to his disciples in today's Gospel reading by asking them "who do *you* say that I am?"   Some of the answers from this latest round are cute and funny -- and true: I'm not good at crawling around on the floor like a horse. I stand a little taller than feet off the ground (but not much), and I definitely prefer smiling faces to screaming voices. I'm actually a pretty good dancer, thank you very much, having taken ballet from the time I was three until I was 17.  And while I do eat a lot of salad, why did none of the bambini name coffee or chocolate as my favorite foods?  Hello?

Those pale comparison with the deeper questions of what my job is and how I convey my love for them in terms they understand. Yes, I do clean house when they're not around (but not as much as they seem to think. Let's keep that between us.), and yes I spend a considerable amount of time supervising our bambini. But is that my job? If it's as the elder lad eventually said "teaching us things" and "loving us," as the younger lad said, then I'd agree. There are, however, aspects of the day-to-day to-do list that are definitely mundane (such as cleaning up other people's messes and so forth). That's true of any job and part of every life.  There is honor in that work, even if it's not glamorous.  There is also a lot of joy in the work I do, knowing it is serving God by serving the people he has placed in my midst in this time and place.

In today's Gospel, Peter answers correctly that Jesus is "the Christ", but even if he had answered differently, Jesus would still be the Christ.  I am many things including a wife, daughter, sister, mother, cousin, and friend, but primarily I am committed to being the person God created and calls me to be every day.   I struggle with the bambini not reporting a greater awareness of the musical side of me, but that's not their fault.  They do know it's a part of me, but contrary to how I imagined things, it hasn't been a large one in their existence.  That's probably as it should be.  Their view of me will change as time marches on, but God willing they will always know that I'm their mom who loves them unconditionally and that I am here for them, and that's all that matters.

fighting words

Maybe the triple digit heat with temperatures upwards of 110 degrees have something to do with it, or maybe it's a consequence of us slacking off on our agenda, but I've noticed an unwelcome increase in the amount whining, fussing, and caterwauling heard in these parts -- yes, even from me.  What's going on?   The answer is probably multi-fold, but on my part I'm sure my sleep deficit isn't helping.  I thought this braid of homegrown garlic curing in our kitchen might help ward off the crankies (just kidding), but alas it has not.

I am not one to criticize, blame, nag, cajole, or be passive aggressive.  When I am extraordinarily tired, however, I am far less able to take the "normal" drama and shennanigans in stride.  Instead of employing humor, goofiness, or alternatives to yelling like singing or whispering, I am far more inclined to be snarky, snippy, snide, or sarcarstic in my terse responses.  I am never proud of those pronouncements.  They are anything but constructive. I don't like to be spoken to in any of those ways, and I always feel terrible when I allow such vitriol to escape my lips. 

It is one of my highest priorities for our bambini to learn to authentically, respectfully, and honestly express whatever emotion or need they're trying to verbalize.   However will they learn to do that?  By replicating the way the adults in their lives handle themselves in times of stress and moments of need.  (That would be me, among others)

When one of our children spouts off some poorly-phrased demand request or hurtful insult, I try to respond matter-of-factly with an opportunity to restate him- or herself and a script to use in doing so.  When the insults are flying among siblings or disrespectful demands are hurtled my way, adding my own yelling voice to the equation gets us nowhere good (even if I'm trying to communicate that some things are better left unsaid).

Feelings of frustration, disappointment, hurt, and confusion are all part of the human experience.  It's important to sort them out and move on without name-calling, empty threats, or brute force, just as it's important to take ownership of the emotions we feel and take control of how we allow the treatment of others to affect us.  Similarly, we all have basic (and not-so-basic) needs for all kinds of things both tangible and intangible.  Not every need is of equal necessity, nor can every one be met *right now.*  And we can't always have everything we want -- not in this life.

We owe it to our bambini, their future spouses, ourselves, and society at large to express our own emotions, needs, and desires clearly, respectfully, and as lovingly as possible -- even when we are tired, frustrated, hungry, overheated, or otherwise vexed -- so that when our little loves go to express themselves, they will have some positive point of reference to model.  They won't always get it right, but with practice comes a greater chance of success.

On my part I have to get better about going to bed earlier so that I have easier access to the tools at my disposal.  When it comes to conflict resolution, I'm still working on developing the virtue of fortitude to speak up in a manner that honors the needs of all involved.  The best outcome of such a faithful response to conflict or insult instructs those who are watching closely to be ever mindful of the presence of Christ in every person and to be respectful of the inherent dignity in each of God's precious children, young or old, sassy or circumspect, willing or unwilling, peaceful or troubled, happy or sad, whatever and whenever.  It's how I wish to be treated, and it's how I endeavor to teach our bambini to treat others, to "do as I would be done by", and to tread lightly on the delicate ground that is the heart of the other.

love song

The lads have been at Vacation Bible School riding "The Vatican Express" this week, doing art projects a la Michelangelo lying on the floor while painting pictures taped to the undersides of the desks they lie under and learning classic VBS songs like "Father Abraham".

A few nights ago before bedtime the elder lad had everyone up and dancing, arms flailing and voices singing along.

This morning the younger lad sang "skida-ma-rinky-dinky-dink, skida-ma-rinky-doo. I...love...you" to me, adding that he'd have to teach me the rest later after VBS because it was about a railroad.

He has yet to finish the lesson.

speed dial

In case you've been trying to put a face with my name, here's a fairly recent portrait by the younger lad:

"Momm" by Younger Lad, age 4.5 • November 2011

Yes: my hair usually does look like that, and I'm trying to incorporate more "bling" into my everyday look with accessories and embellishments.

These bambini of mine are by turns sweet, spirited, imaginative, and resilient.  They along with my beloved play a major role in the ongoing process that is my conversion of heart to the will of Christ.

Someone who always spoke of the lofty nature of motherhood while acknowledging its far less glamorous aspects was the pastor emeritus of the parish where I served as director of music and liturgy for a few years.  He was a man of such size and stature as to cause young children to wonder if he was God or Santa Claus.   He died a few days before Christmas this past year, and his absence is felt keenly by those whose souls he tended for many years and whose hearts he lifted with words of encouragement and prayer. 

I had the great honor of playing the piano at the vigil service held for him the night before his funeral was celebrated.  I chose music to reflect the servant leadership he so deftly offered as well as music that summoned the prayers of Christ's mother Mary, whom this Irish Catholic priest (as noted by the funny sign stationed at the head of his casket for the vigil that proclaimed "parking for Irish Catholic priest only") held in highest regard and mused about often. 

The well-timed phone calls from him are sorely missed, not just by me but by lots of folks, I'm sure.  The brief exchanges of pleasantries and vocational affirmation always helped me in my quest to mother intentionally, faithfully, and gently.  As much as I miss those phone calls now, I trust he continues to pray for us, and that those prayers are carried to the Father speedily. 

With sincere appreciation for my mother, my beloved's mother, our grandmothers, godmothers, aunts, cousins, and friends who mother us so lovingly and for those who support and care for mothers of any kind, I pray the Lord will bless in a special way those who are in dire need of mothering, whatever their age, and in need of someone like this dear priest to affirm them in living out the call of Christ. 

get this right

The younger lass rifled through a filing cabinet with some of my piano scores and found a spiral-bound booklet of the repertoire assigned to me my senior year of college. She slapped it up on the music desk and toddled off to do something else.

As I walked past the piano I caught sight of the score she had left open, and I stopped to thumb through the pages. It was the "working copy" where my piano professor and I noted all sorts of things related to the piece and its performance: fingerings, pedaling, dynamics, harmonic analysis, and phrasing, among other things like this note I scribbled:

 

get this right.

as in: quit making this same mistake here.  You know it's coming.  It's tripped you up enough times to merit a note in the score *and* a highlighter, so fix it already.  Don't make it again.

How many times in a day do I make the same mistakes or allow myself to edge too close to that line where I can't help but bungle a situation that presents itself over and over again -- one I've had the opportunity to address and learn from and traverse successfully going forward?  For whatever reason, I still make some of  the same mistakes.  

My dad says I use my music degree every day, even those days when I don't touch a piano.  Maybe this is what he means.  And thank the good Lord for his infinite mercy in forgiving those mistakes, even though I make them time and again.  Isn't that what Easter, which we are at last celebrating, is all about -- forgiveness of sins and everlasting life?

I don't operate under the delusion that I am perfect or will always handle every situation perfectly, but I would like to eliminate some of those oft-made mistakes by considering the factors that contribute to my making them and doing what needs to be done to set up a better outcome.  

Here's what I hope I did get right today:  I hope I made good use of the time God gave me this day to show his love and mercy to those around me.  I hope in those moments when I felt like I might lose my patience or withdraw from interaction in the face of some drama that I was able to recognize them inwardly and overcome them either by expressing those emotions in a healthy and respectful way or by waiting a minute to let them blow over.   I hope to have shown my bambini that Mama does make mistakes sometimes, as we all do, and that when I do I try my best to make amends, tend to the hurt I may have caused, and move on.

We do our best, says my Grannie, and that's all we can do.  Part of that is built on learning from our mistakes -- God willing, before warranting a highlighter's notice.

thick as thieves

The 19-month-old younger lass has no qualms about expressing her thoughts and feelings on any subject.  Her feelings are not easily misunderstood on most matters.  She is -- usually -- very fond of her sister.  Brothers, too. 

With her sister the three-year-old elder lass, she seems to be forging a close bond.  When I made ready to go pick up the lads from school last week and take the younger lass with me while the elder lass stayed at home to bake cupcakes with my sister as a belated birthday gift project, the younger lass would have none of it.  Through her tears and protestations I asked her if she wanted to stay at home with her "sissy pie" and auntie.  "Yes!!!" she emphatically answered.  She wriggled out of my arms and ran to her sister, throwing her arms around the elder lass and holding on for dear life.

This morning at Storytime, the girls were called up by name to select instruments to play.  The younger lass went first and snagged the two coveted lollipop drums -- one for herself and the other for her sister, who had not yet been called to come forward.  Then she confidently returned to the box to retrieve the mallets for both drums.  Later I noticed she had traded with another child her drum for his tone block, but the elder lass gratefully retained ownership of the one her baby sister had nabbed for her.

These girlies dote on each other so sweetly -- and scream at each other in fits of rage over books (usually) just as often. 

The lads likewise dote especially on the younger lass.  Now that the elder lass is a little older, she takes some ribbing from the brothers that the toddler doesn't (yet).  There is almost always an argument over who gets to sit by the younger lass at mealtime.  The brothers love to snuggle their baby sis as she sleeps if they happen to get up before she does.  The elder lad loves to take her for rides on his big rig and his bouncy ball, which she likewise loves as judged by her shrieks of delight.  The younger lad is usually happy to share whatever he's eating with her.  He's generous like that. 

Of course, if she gets in the middle of their elaborate truck set-ups, all bets are off.

I pray that the bond these siblings have will continue to deepen and that the consideration they show each other continues to increase as they mature, and I look forward to the day that -- God willing -- they can work things out without shrieking at each other.

minor victories :: drop the needle edition

College music majors know well the concept of "drop the needle".  That's the not-so-affectionate (and now rather outdated) term that refers to the listening portions of music history exams where a snippet of music is played and the students must identify it, its composer, and varying degrees of information about both (such as the specific movement of this selection if it is a multi-movement work, the composer's life span, defining characteristics of that person's music, other works by the same composer, etc.).  The selection played during the exam can come from any point in the piece as though a record needle were dropped on an LP -- it rarely starts at the beginning.

So as we're driving to preschool this morning, the younger lad requests "the one with the drums," and I couldn't help but think that this is the preschool version of that rather stressful game from my college days.

But I got it right. 

lost in translation

Judging by the books littering the living room floor late this afternoon, the younger lad was looking for something else to thumb through.  He settled on the foreign language dictionaries that I kept handy for translating the arias, songs, and lieder of the students whose voice lessons I accompanied when I was a piano major in college. 

"What are you reading now?" I asked him.
"It's a mystery."

minor victories :: selective listening edition

Identifying as I do so strongly sometimes with Charlie Brown's teacher, I admit to letting the frustration of not being *heard* (as in, requested response or a reasonable facsimile given) get the better of me.  That's right: sometimes I yell.  I'm not proud of it, but there it is.  I almost always feel like a big meanie immediately after I yell, so I am continually employing proactive measures to prevent the outburst, including big deep breaths, distractionary tactics, sign language, and whispering.

I am happy to report another alternative to the ranting and raving that actually seems to work with a reasonable amount of frequency: singing.

Now, when I say "singing" I mean silly sing-song singing, a little bit Ethel Merman and a little bit overdone operatic caricature.  In the classical singing world, this "sung speech" has a name: sprechstimme.

I make my request in sprechstimme, and like some sort of magic, there is an appropriate (usually) response!  Better yet, sometimes the response is sung back to me: "why are you singing?"

I answer in sprechstimme: "because if I don't sing I might yell, and I really don't want to yell.  Do you like it when I sing to you?"

on pitch (!): "yes."

And then there are the beginnings of grins, laughter, compliance, and cooperation. 

It doesn't work every time or with every child, but it works enough of the time to be worth giving a try whenever conditions warrant -- which sometimes seems like all too often...

cultural literacy

elder lad (the family D.J.): "Mom, look! It's Paul McCartney!"

life goes on

Soooo... where do I go from here?

I'm inclined to throw up some diversion to lighten the mood a bit.  Something like this:

Please.  The cuteness defies quantification. 

But instead I will expand just a little upon some of my ramblings from last night...

As a pianist, I've played *lots* of funerals both Catholic and Protestant over the years.  They are always fraught with emotion and laden with sadness, especially for those bidding farewell to someone they love.  I've been one of those people bidding farewell to loved ones many times myself.  Even in the midst of sorrow, however, the Catholic funerals especially that I've played have been some of the most uplifting, soul-edifying experiences I've had for many of the reasons I listed yesterday. I am always honored to play a funeral for anyone, to be present at that moment of grace, to help fulfill the work of mercy that is burying the dead, and to stand with those who are grieving.  To be a part of planning a funeral for someone is likewise an honor I humbly undertake when asked. 

Someday my bambini will have to bid farewell to someone they love dearly, as they will subsequently have to many times over the course of their lives.  I am not expecting this day to be imminent for anyone close to us, but we never know what tomorrow will bring.  As a family we've already said good-bye to a couple of pets the bambini's grandparents have had, as well as an uncle of my beloved's (when the lads were very little -- before the lasses were born).

When the day does come to say good-bye, it is my fervent hope that the services arranged to facilitate this farewell will both offer some solace for the grief our bambini feel and hope for them that their loved one is still accessible to them, though not in tangible, visible form any more.  Perhaps the positive experience of having been to funerals before will at least give a certain sense of familiarity that helps accomplish this.

Further, I pray for the grace to equip our bambini with the knowledge that is a pathway to faith in the hope Christ gives us of everlasting life and resurrection by my openness to discussing with them the questions they have about life, death, faith, or anything else on their minds (at an age-appropriate level, of course, and only to the extent they are comfortable discussing it barring any urgent necessity). 

I post many quips and soundbytes of our family life -- most of them funny, heart-warming, illustrative or reminiscent of things that transpire in these parts.  When the younger lad posited his becoming imaginary at the end of his earthly life, it left a lasting impression on my heart that I knew I needed to chronicle.  He's not only impish (and he is back to being impish after a couple days of strep throat-induced lethargy), but he's existential as well.  God love him for that.

So we toddle on with life, eagerly awaiting Easter and trying to live each day in peace, with sanctity, grace, and no short supply of humor.

About those shoes: they were a gift to the two-year-old lass from an aunt very dear to us, and they're not at all appropriate for mud season...

playlist: quiet time

Just right for rainy days like today; siesta, Happy Hour, or bedtime; or whenever anyone's emotional temperature is perilously high...

• You Are My Sunshine :: Elizabeth Mitchell my Papa Jack sang this to me, as I have to both my now almost 18-year-old sister *and* my bambini 
• Ladybug Picnic :: Elizabeth Mitchell This is a sweet, slower version of the rootin' tootin' tune first seen on Sesame Street, now immortal on YouTube 
• The Bells of Ireland :: Dan Zanes A beautiful, humble tune 
• Hush Little Baby :: Dan Zanes fresh lyrics and color commentary make this familiar lullaby both endearing and entertaining 
• Good Night, Good Night :: Dan Zanes I always take a deep, cleansing breath as this song gets going. 
• Foster: Slumber, My Darling :: Edgar Meyer, Yo-Yo Ma, Mark O'Connor, & Alison Krauss from Appalachian Journey, a gossamer song -- a mother's lullaby -- now almost achingly poignant as I sit rocking my own bambini 
• All Eyes On You :: Justin Roberts part poetic observation of childhood, part prayer for a child 
• Firefly Lullaby :: Recess Monkey I'm not one to catch the winged creatures, but a field trip of this nature is just my speed.  
• I Will :: The Beatles This song could so easily be about my beloved and me, traversing the same college campus for years but not crossing paths until much later -- or did we? 
• Better Together :: Jack Johnson One afternoon when the elder lad was much younger (and should've been napping), I put this song on, and he said "this is a nice, quiet song." 
• Fruit Jar :: Justin Roberts featuring Nora O'Connor gentle acoustic guitar and gentle encouragement to keep on keepin' on 
• A Place For Us :: Dan Zanes & Friends An extended instrumental coda at the end of this beautiful dreamer makes for peaceful, hopeful imaginings. 
• Tiny Telephone :: Recess Monkey The elder lad thinks of his aunts and uncles when he hears this song. 
• From Scratch :: Justin Roberts  a masterful child's point of view with no shortage of wisdom and wistfulness 
• Smile Smile Smile :: Dan Zanes & Friends one of my most favoritest Dan Zanes songs -- and that's saying a lot 
• I Will Be Your Friend :: Guy Davis a rugged, charming, musical expression of self-giving and charity -- lessons never too young to learn 
• Rocketship :: Justin Roberts some things to think about as one is drifting to sleep... 
• Side By Side :: Dan Zanes & Friends I sang this one to my baby sis, and then (years later) to the elder lad who could not be convinced to sleep any other way. 
• One Tiny Light :: Recess Monkey As if it isn't difficult enough to fall asleep -- and stay asleep -- as it is, who can resist investigating a twinkling star outside one's window?   
• Linger For Awhile :: Dan Zanes & Friends Wouldn't we all love to live in a neighborhood like this, where everyone is out until way past bedtime just visiting? 
• Banana Pancakes :: Jack Johnson We're big on pancake breckies around here. 
• Little Raindrop :: Justin Roberts waiting on rain to come and water the freshly-planted garden... 
• I've Just Seen A Face :: Dan Zanes covering a Beatles favorite, Dan Zanes style 
• Belle :: Jack Johnson short and sweet; par les vouz Francais?  (me neither) 
• Apple Tree :: Justin Roberts little people someday grow up, God willing into loving, giving beings 
• I Will :: Alison Krauss some more of Alison Krauss's sweet singing would be just lovely right about now... 
• In My Life :: The Beatles To sum things up, all roads have led to this moment with these precious people.

far out

A sick day from school was no excuse for a day lolling around doing nothing (that came later in the week when Mama succumbed to the full force of The Sniffles).  On Monday the elder lad was coming off a fever he'd run over the weekend, so he stayed home from school.  He and his brother had been engrossed by the space-themed play set their aunt and uncle had given them for Christmas over the weekend, and the intergalactic fun continued on the sick day.  Thus was born the thematic approach to our unexpected stay home day.

We read Martian Rock by Carol Diggory Shields (illustrated by Scott Nash), in which a group of Martians set off in a space ship from their home planet to explore the galaxy looking for signs of life.  They refer to the planets as "orbs", and as they visit each one we learn a little something about the composition of that planet.  The last one they visit is Earth, where they land on the South Pole.  Thinking there is no life on this orb just as there hadn't been on any of the others, they are about to head home until they encounter a colony of penguins...

Since this is a multi-age classroom (ahem), we also read Helen Oxenbury's Tom and Pippo See the Moon, one of the gifts the lass received for her second birthday.  Tom asks Daddy all about the moon and considers going there himself in a rocket with Pippo (after a good night's sleep).  Considering our affinity for Tom and Pippo, and the insatiable interest children have in the potty and what transpires there (there's a drawing of Tom sitting on his gazing at the moon), this book is an instant winner here. 

To develop logic, critical thinking, and spatial-relational skills, we worked our new solar system puzzle. 

Add to this the space-themed songs from our Schoolhouse Rock playlist.  And for "glowing screen time" (I can't take credit for that term, but I love it), we watched an episode of the PBS show Word World about compound words entitled "Race to the Spaceship/Sandbox Surprise".

Not too shabby for a sick day...

tutti fruity

Call it Kindergarten humor, musician mama style: a form of collective address I hadn't thought of until this evening when the lass (who will be two tomorrow) and her brother (the younger) started a round of antibiotics, thus joining their elder brother already on them (such drama is beyond the scope of this post).  The younger lad's elixir has a certain fruity aroma.

As in... tutti frutti.

Then it hit me -- the musical connection:
Tutti.

As in... "all y'all" (a regionalism that needs no further explanation).

Won't the lads love that?! I'm sure the elder lad will be happy to demonstrate pronouncing the full stop necessitated by the double consonant: "TOOT-ee."

Let's try it out:

"Tutti! To the Bambini Ride!"
"Tutti! Hands to yourselves!"
"Tutti! Bouncy balls *up* the stairs only!"

Talk about speaking their language...

playlist: schoolhouse rock

Just for fun, here's a playlist I've assembled from some of our favorite music, all having a little something to do with school:

• "98.8" by Justin Roberts a feeble attempt to stay home from school  
• "Snow Day" also by Justin Roberts fever-free, but still hopeful
• "We're Going to Be Friends" by Jack Johnson made it to school, happy to see everyone 
• "Alphabet of Nations" by They Might be Giants literacy + geography  
• "Knocktopus" by Recess Monkey for the class clown in all of us 
• "Tie Your Shoe" by Justin Roberts mastering this feat is cause for celebration 
• "Seven" by They Might be Giants the lass's most-requested song of the moment, and a fun commentary on those of our species who are this age 
• "The Sharing Song" by Jack Johnson a necessary skill
• "West Indian Counting Song" by Dan Zanes & Friends Sometimes I sing this one to facilitate a transition in activities.
• "Number Two" by They Might be Giants They're channeling Sir Elton John here, I think.
• "We Go Duck" by Justin Roberts as in Duck, Duck, Goose
• "Go Down Emmanuel Road" by Dan Zanes & Friends fans of Sesame Street have probably seen this a time or two or three 
• "Q U" by They Might be Giants groovy goodness 
• "Picture Day" by Justin Roberts I almost always wanted retakes.
• "Meet the Elements" by They Might be Giants never too early to start learning scientific principles ...
• "Cells" by They Might be Giants Whoever heard of introducing the concept of DNA to the preschool population? 
• "Science Fair" by Recess Monkey I always cringed at the thought of cooking up an experiment.  This is so not my scene. 
• "The Bloodmobile" by They Might be Giants Physiology terminology set to music = retention.  This tune is along the lines of those commercials for St. Joseph's aspirin from a few years ago.  As an aside, did you know my mother and I had the same high school chemistry/human anatomy teacher?  The charms of small town life... 
• "Constellation Conga" by Recess Monkey my new favorite.  Astronomy: why not?
• "How Many Planets?" by They Might be Giants My bambini can all name "JOOOOO-pi-ter" on a rendering of the solar system thanks to this ditty.
• "Fire Drill" by Justin Roberts a welcome interruption
• Why Does the Sun Shine? by They Might be Giants jammin', if maybe not quite right, come to find out ...
• "Why Does the Sun Really Shine?" by They Might be Giants swanky.  less jammin' than its predecessor, but apparently more accurate.  Go figure.
• "Ice Pack" by Recess Monkey After all that science, it's time for recess.  Sometimes accidents happen. 
• "Billy the Bully" by Justin Roberts Might does not equal right.
• Sack Lunch by Recess Monkey The elder lad and his kindergartner buddies have recess *before* lunch, so that they'll actually eat instead of running out to play after a bite or two; This tune goes hand in hand with next on this list.
• "Big Field Trip" by Justin Roberts I've queued this one for many a field trip of our own.
• "E Eats Everything" by They Might be Giants Both the lads dig this one.  In the video version, Z becomes a Pac-Man-esque creature.  Need I elaborate? 
• "Not Naptime" by Justin Roberts This is genius in musical form, clearly written by someone who's been there and done that; Justin Roberts is a former preschool teacher.
• "Do-Re-Mi" by Harry Connick, Jr. music ed 
• "Gym Class Parachute" by Justin Roberts gym class.  not my scene.
• Pollito Chicken by Dan Zanes & Friends Spanish lessons 
• "Little White Square" by Popple This is a theoretical Catholic school playlist; fostering vocations begins at an early age.
• "Daniel in the Den" by Dan Zanes & Friends religion continued... This is from the Old Testament.
• "Giant-Sized Butterflies" by Justin Roberts start-of-school jitters; brings me to tears thinking back to the elder lad starting preschool  ...
• "Strike the Bell" by Dan Zanes Is it time to go home yet? 
• "She's A Yellow Reflector" by Justin Roberts Sister has after-school crossing guard duty -- no time for chit-chat.
• "Yellow Bus" by Justin Roberts  Where is that bus?  The poor kid is up and at 'em.  But what day is it again?  Saturday?

I call it "Schoolhouse Rock."

music appreciation

 

Bona fide percussionists perform barefoot.

songbird

All it takes is a dinner table rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" by the lass to break the tension at the twilight of a long day.  Lads may be sparring, baby fussy, parents wilting, but hearing her sing that simple tune snaps us all out of our collective funk (at least for the moment).  Next thing we know, we're singing along, charmed by her sweetness, and on to happier topics such as the approaching weekend and the rainbow we saw driving home from school today...

story time returns! and some new books by favorite authors

Story time at our library resumed today!  How we do look forward to story time largely because of the talented and dedicated children's librarian who presents it.  Sometimes we're the only ones there, which is a real shame considering its excellent and engaging (i.e. fun) presentation.

As we were getting ready to go this morning, the younger lad said "I hope she brings the instruments.  I want to play the star".  It took me some silent eyebrows-furrowed pondering to figure out he meant a triangle.   I told him I didn't know if she'd bring the instruments, but that she just might.  She did, and he got to play his "star."

(He *does* know it's called a triangle, not a star -- I think.)

The lass and her brother shared a carpet square as they listened intently to the stories -- all about bears -- and played their instruments.  At dinner time the lad proudly told his daddy about playing the "star" (see caveat above), and the lass chimed in with "shaker!", which was her favorite among the instruments she played.

In honor of story time's return, here are a couple of new books by authors I've noted before:

The boy in Caldecott Medalist Chris Raschka's new Little Black Crow has some questions for a bird he spies circling in the sky ranging from the here and now of where the bird goes to the more far-flung inquiries into the crow's life experiences (which the boy assumes might parallel his own).  Raschka's watercolors in this book are more subdued than those in his illustrations of Norton Juster's The Hello, Goodbye Window (which I love for the feelings it evokes of the bond we have with our parents and grandparents), but they are just as beautiful and emotive of the introspective wonderings of this curious boy.

Having hit upon a new at least semi-healthy chocolate cookie recipe for snack time in the elder lad's Kindergarten classroom last week, I find Amy Krouse Rosenthal's latest book on the sweet subject particularly timely.  One Smart Cookie: Bite-Size Life Lessons for the School Year and Beyond (illustrated, like the others in this series, by Jane Dyer and her daughter Brooke) is the latest in a series of vocabulary and life skill lessons presented through the lens of creating and sharing cookies among friends.  Internalizing words including "organized," "prompt," "empathy," "integrity," and "prompt" and their meanings never tasted so good.

Story time is a family tradition, since the time my beloved and I were children ourselves.  We are very fortunate to have such an excellent story time right here in our midst. It's a great way to start our week, and it's been the avenue to developing friendships with not only the librarian herself but also some of our neighbors. 

Here's hoping we have our instrumental nomenclature straightened out by next week's story time...

The Summons

There were so many signs of God's grace present at our littler lass's baptism yesterday, from the family and friends who celebrated with us to the music at the Mass.  Before Mass began and again at the preparation of the gifts, we heard John Bell's  The Summons, a song that resonates deeply with us as it was the processional at our wedding a little over six years ago.

While it is beautiful and moving in any instrumentation and voicing, it was simply awesome presented as it was at our wedding with my college music theory professor -- a mentor and friend -- in command of the massive organ and a dear friend and fellow liturgical musician serving as cantor for the wedding Mass leading the congregation in singing.

I have often pondered the text of this song, every time finding something different that speaks to me in that moment.    Yesterday, it was this verse that spoke to me, both as a mother and about the commitment we have made on her behalf and hope that she will one day take ownership of:

Will you come and follow me
If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don’t know
And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown,
Will you let my name be known,
Will you let my life be grown
In you and you in me?

At our wedding, the lengthy procession included altar servers, several priests, our wedding party of relatives and friends as close as family, our parents, and us.   My beloved and I processed in together as ministers of the sacrament of marriage together following our parents.

The music filled the church and the procession began.  My beloved and I waited, though, until the final verse:

Lord, your summons echoes true
When you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you
And never be the same.
In your company I’ll go
Where your love and footsteps show.
Thus I’ll move and live and grow
In you and you in me.

The challenge is as pertinent today -- if not more so -- than it was that morning we married.  

a little light reading

Some of the accompaniments to the lass's recent requests to "read, Mommy!"