Tuesday, June 16, 2015

piano lesson

These first days of summer.  We are slowly settling into the different rhythm of our days.  Slowly.  Remembering all the tricks, all the necessities that everyone requires to make a day with three tired and so-looking-forward-to-summer children...screech...What in the world do I DO with myself...pleasant to be with.

We have had reminders that the refrigerator needs to have food in it at the beginning of each day or things go south quickly.  We have had unplanned hurried visits to the orthodontist to repair something that didn't feel quite right and made up for the unpleasantness with a stop at the ice cream shop.  And were there reminded that most homemade ice cream shops only take cash.  That the ocean is still wicked cold this time of year.  And that rainy days can be hard, but a fresh batch of graphic novels from the library can completely turn a day around.  But also? The library is NOT open on Mondays.  No matter how hard you stare at the empty parking lot and feel a little bit like you might cry.  Because it was really hard to get everyone out the door and into the minivan to get there.

And also?  


Just because you see hundreds of bees swarming around your swarm trap, be patient.  Remain calm.  Don't get ahead of yourself and start planning the opening of your hugely successful roadside honey stand.  Maybe don't physically pull your husband out of his car as he arrives home from work and stuff him into a veil just yet.  And also?  Hold on to both ends of the rope evenly when you lower the trap down to the ground...(picture of trap laying in pieces on the ground was not taken.  Because I was too busy diving out of the way to avoid being hit by it). And then laughing too hard to remember to snap a picture of the trap in pieces on the ground and finding it completely empty.

Because it is more likely just scout bees.  And the swarm trap is being investigated but not moved into.  Ah yes.  My bee class taught me this.


There is no better description of our settling in to summer, of the excitement and boredom, energy and floppy listlessness, ready to head out and run wild children paired with those who's immune systems have had all they can take and suddenly spike a fever.  Joy and frustration.  Moments of absolute summer bliss erupting into awfulness.  Sweet sibling moments that transform into a wrestling match.  For example.

Nicholas:  Elliott.  Teach me how to play your recital piece.

Elliott:  Okay.


Wait.  I don't get the bass line.


It's like this. A.  F.  E.  


Wait.  What?  Talk to me like a person who has never played the piano before.  Because I play the guitar.  We don't have keys.


Here.  Follow my fingers.


No.  That finger goes here.


No.  It's an E.


Move over.  Stop crowding me.   Why the constant physical contact?







I'm still playing!!


But the whole be patient part.  I am remembering that for myself.  Because if you ride out the burst of wild energy, the tumbling frustrated release of chaos.  If you wait.  You can reach that sweet spot.  At least for a few moments, until someone gets hurt.  Or cries.  Or needs to eat.  And we settle in.  To summer.  And all the bliss and togetherness and roaming unscheduled magic that can happen.  Or at least the scales will tip more toward those moments than away from them.


Alright.  Let's get a snack.

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