Wahka wahka wah ka

Erick calls it Wahka Wahka Wah Ka.  I call it the first variation of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. 

There have been moments when I have wondered if I would ever hear anything remotely beautiful come out of my son's violin.  In the past year, he has learned how to stand still for a lesson, not turn around every three seconds to stare at me, and actually produce something very similar to music.  Dare I say, actual music.

So, I have lots of thoughts on kids and studying music. I have even more thoughts on boys and studying music. My thoughts swirl around to having a well rounded son interested in sports and outdoors as well as other enriching activities (a musical discipline) and helping him foster an environment that has room for everything.

In other words, just because you're a boy and play an instrument doesn't mean that you can't be athletic and strong and coordinated.  

He's a normal boy in every sense of the word.  He like legos, cars, and basketball.  Light sabers, wrestling, and getting grimy.  I don't know if he 'likes' violin just as I'm not sure whether or not he 'likes' brushing his teeth.  Both are positive activities that have positive effects.  One helps his brain.  The other helps his teeth.  It's a pretty simple thing, I guess. 

Music is food for the soul.  Music is so incredibly good for a brain.  Music is fun.

And at some point, all of the cool guys play an instrument.  If we can just get him through the next ten or twelve years, we'll be set.

Party Day

This sweet picture is all I have the energy for.  I hope you had a wonderful birthday party sweet boy.  You have more plastic than soft and cuddly things in your room now.  This makes me pretty sad.  I realize 5 has no baby fat.  5 has loose teeth.  5 has little boy jokes.  5 has letters and sounds and books.  5 has a five o' clock shadow.  

Or just about.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

Love, Mama

Light saber music video: take 6

I will warn the viewer:  this video ends ugly.  I have found out the hard way that a double light saber is in no way an equal match to the single edged unit.  There is an uncomfortable moment in which videographer Mother chuckles when she believes both boys were whacked at the same time.  Mothers should never laugh at battle injuries, especially when the single-light-sabered child is not her own.  I am sorry, young jedi.  I was too busy trying to play in tune for your video.  

Next time will be better it shall.  

Cry me a river, my baby's five

 My sweet son, how I love you.

Five years of messes and messy kisses.  Five years of giggles and freckles.  

Five of the happiest years of my life.

I love you, little Choctaw German boy.

24 hours

 What a difference a day can make.

We have gone from puke buckets holding star wars notebooks

(unfortunately placed notebook now in garbage)

to this.....

(Star Wars symphonies set to gripping Imperial March images)

to this.

I have 60 plus pages of symphony music to learn today and a bunch of students to teach.

Instead I am attempting to draw Yodas that don't look like they have udders and cuddling a sweet soon to be five year old.  I'm sure I will look back on these days with fond memories.  I sort of already do.

If he gives me this thing he's in big trouble.  

A milestone

Making it to Mrs. McBride's pre-school class at church is quite the big deal.  Making it THROUGH an entire class is an even bigger deal.  These FOUR year olds have learned to sit in desks for a solid hour, listen to a lengthy bible story, recite memory verses, books of the Bible and the 23rd Psalm, and work on their 'hand work.'  No fits, no picking noses, no acting silly, and certainly no bathroom breaks.  This class is serious.

I love this little lady so much it makes my heart ache a little.  She is so pure and good and precious.  This has to be going on like thirty years that she has been teaching this class.  Week in, week out, year after year.

Thanks for loving our babies, Mrs. McBride.  We love you, too.

Surely this means something

Returning from work, I am greeted with 28 identical aliens.

These things I know:

My son loves meticulously coloring.

He likes karate chopping Polly Pockets.

He likes drawing several of the same thing.

28 to be exact.

Since his career as a smile model is obviously out, I'm banking on alien drawing extraordinaire.

Disturbing

Disturbing picture. Before this demented pose he was meticulously lining up and dressing his sister's Polly Pockets all morning long. Some fascination with them all matching and snapping them into their plastic straightjackets. Throwing down a handful of army guys in an attempt to create a diversion from playing with dolls, I suggested that he 'get' (read:shoot) the Polly Pockets. He did not shoot the dolls, and instead, decided to start crawling around and acting deranged. I feel like a terrible Mother by acting on strange fears of my son playing with dolls and promoting Polly violence. I'm sure plenty of boys have played with girl toys and have turned out perfectly normal. Twenty-four hours later he's back to making weird noises with spit in his mouth and torturing box elder bugs in the backyard.

The end.

Here we go again

Little brother started violin lessons yesterday. I didn't bribe, but reminded him that I had Teddy Grahams for him when he finished. That was all it took for him to approach the 'throne', and he was off. I really only remember R jumping around with her braids flying at her first lesson, so I was pleasantly surprised that he was really serious with only a couple of sweet snickering glances back towards us.

We'll see. I really hoped he would play cello, but he wanted nothing to do with that. Secretly, I'm relieved because this is much easier and I don't have to drive 35 minutes one way for his lesson. If I can keep sister and her micromanaging tendencies away from the learning process, we will be ok. Now I have to tell myself, I can practice with two kids, I can practice with two kids, I can practice with two kids.

Right. Right?

Happy 3/4 birthday

My little nine month old angel.

And the winner is.....

Looks like Raegan lost in the game of pool, and Greyson won in the game of drool.

First Cheerio and the Zoo

In that order. The cheerio happened a few days ago, and was soon followed by random table-samplings of all sorts (ie roast beef and spaghetti). Probably not recommended by my pediatrician, I am sure.

My mom and I took the kids to the zoo today. Ahhh, the beauty of a zoo friends membership. We saw the aquarium, meerkats, playground, and giftshop, and we were out of there. How all of that took two hours is a little perplexing. Maybe because I spent an hour of that in the aquarium just trying to get one family shot with Raegan smiling (yeah, right) and Greyson actually looking at the camera (yeah, right).  It never happened, but here are the best of the day.

I've just GOT to get that dog

So I figured I better put up a picture of my 2nd child, poor thing. He probably has half the photos his sister had at this age. It's hard to photograph a moving target, though. I'm not used to a 7 month old actally rolling and trying to crawl. Raegan sat....literally sat for an entire year. :)

This is Greyson's favorite place in the living room to crawl to - straight for the chairs that the dog sleeps in. And if you're wondering, yes, he is physically sliding the chairs back and forth on the floor. He's definitely a boy!