A Look Back At Last Week

"A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after." 

-Peter DeVries

Monday Evening: Group lessons with Sabrina
                Davis Youth for Jessica
                Play practice for Spencer

Tuesday Evening: Dress Rehearsal for Spencer
                 Orchestra Concert for Sabrina

Wednesday Evening: Dress Rehearsal for Spencer
                   Cubscouts for Jonah
                   College Open House at Weber State for Jessica 
                   Mutual for everyone but Dad & Jonah
                   Piano lessons for Jonah

Thursday Evening: Violin lessons for Sabrina
                  Play Performance for Spencer
                  Orchestra Concert for Jessica

Friday Evening: Cello lessons for Jessica
                Play Performance for Spencer 

Somehow we pulled it off. Every child got to every event. Every child got supported by one or both parents. Every performance was attended by both parents and all grandparents. Thank heavens for a third car and a child who can drive it. 

And I would like to personally thank, Taco Bell, Little Caesar's, Subway, and Cantina Mexican Restaurant. Without each of you, none of this would have been possible. 

A Chocolate Reminisce

"There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate." -Linda Grayson

I gave myself an early Easter present yesterday. These luscious little morsels beckoned me from the nether reaches of the grocery store. I could somehow sense their presence, and then I turned the corner and there they were just staring at me. They were ridiculously priced, but I put them in my cart without hesitation.

I allow myself only two delicious eggs each day, because they are so pricey, and because the fat content brought a gasp from even myself. I wait until the children are not around, and then I indulge in a moment of shear delight. Such moments are reminiscent of a delightful evening I had with my sister in Portland just a few months ago.

The event was Feast Portland. We had just finished an evening at the Sandwich Invitational. I believe we had just downed at least ten sandwiches.

Two or three macaroons.

And a couple of ice cream sandwiches.

We were waddling our way from the event and decided to make one last stop on our way home. To the gym?...you ask. No... to Moonstruck Chocolate Cafe, where we indulged in a Conquistador milkshake. 

Oh that was the best milkshake! The perfect blend of chocolate, hazelnut, and whipped cream. We somehow rolled ourselves back to our hotel after a complete food orgy. We felt not a tinge of guilt. We simply changed into our stretchy pants, sprawled out on our big comfy beds, and reminisced about the day's flavors.

That was a good night, and I think about the Conquistador often. In fact, I may be planning another trip to Portland here very soon, and a visit to Moonstruck Chocolate Cafe may very well be on the top of my vacation to-do list.

But until then, these little babies will have to suffice.

Bag End in Frosting

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole...it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort." -J.R.R. Tolkien

Every year, when Jonah's birthday comes around, he starts contemplating what his birthday cake will look like. He elicits the help of his sister to put on paper the lavish design he has concocted in his head.

Since his latest obsession is all things Hobbit, he naturally wanted a Hobbit cake. He basically wanted an entire map of Middle Earth as a birthday cake. He wanted the Shire and Rivendell and Erebor all represented in full detail. I reminded him that the medium we had to work with here was not oils but in fact tinted frosting. This fact hardly dissuaded him. 

We finally talked him down to a cute cake bearing a fine representation of Bag End with the Lonely Mountain looming in the distance. Jessica sketched up a nice model for us.

Back in my motherhood glory days, I would let each child pick out a special cake pan for their birthday, and I would spend hours mixing countless colors of frosting and piping tiny stars onto their custom cake. I have lovely photos to document those glory days. But I have since retired from being a cake-decorator-extradorinaire and have passed my piping bags over to my oldest daughter, mainly because everyone likes to design their own cakes now. Each child seems to demand a frosting-generated Picasso these days, and I know my limits. So Jessica is now the official cake decorator. She will appreciate the skills when it is time for her day in the sun as a mother.

We make a nice little team. I mix the frosting and all of the colors and fill the piping bags and hand them off to Jessica as she creates a culinary Rembrandt atop a Betty Crocker canvas. Jonah wanted a piece of the action, since this was after all, his cake and his design. He likes to do the little white stars along the bottom of the cake.

In the end, we end up with a messy kitchen, stained hands, and Voila, a frosted masterpiece!

I think Bilbo himself would be pleased with such a fine representation of this little hole he calls home. I may even have a slice or two leftover in the fridge if he needed a little something for second breakfast.

If Bilbo would not have been pleased, I know one little boy who seemed very pleased. 

These cakes are labors of love, and it hurts to cut into them, after so many hours of work. But I have pictures to document these little works of art created in the minds of my children and transformed into yummy pastries. They have come to represent the passions of my children over the years, and are worth every ounce of effort. 

Ten Years Ago Today...

"Children reinvent your world for you." -Susan Sarandon

Ten years ago, this spunky little spirit came into this world. Ten years ago this very moment, I lay on the couch watching the War in Iraq play out on CNN wondering whether this was labor I had been experiencing since 2:00 a.m. This was my fourth baby for heavens sake. I had experienced nearly every form of child birth, surely I would recognize labor when I saw it.

What I didn't realize is that this child would keep me guessing from that point on. He would test every tried and true parenting practice I know. He would test my patience to the very limits. He would leave me wondering, "This is my fourth child, surely I should have things figured out by now. Why on earth does nothing work on this child?"

I had finally had enough on that day, ten years ago. I called Neil at work and told him to come home because we were going to have this baby. He and I walked the neighborhood for an hour. I insisted on pushing the double stroller carrying our two toddlers, in hopes that any extra exertion might coax this baby out of my belly. By 2:30 I was experiencing "on the floor on your hands and knees" contractions. Two and a half hours later little Jonah decided that he was ready to come into this world. He made sure to give me a sleepless night and an entire day of discomfort before finally deciding to make his grand entrance.

This was indeed a foreshadowing of what life would be like with this new little spirit that had joined our family. He is as stubborn as they come. When I am at my whits end and must turn to deep thought, study, and prayer to come up with something that will get this child to respond, he finally decides, "O.k. I suppose that that makes sense to me. I guess I'll comply." And then he cooperates, just like that afternoon ten years ago when he decided to come into the world, in his own due time, exactly when he intended to, after much prodding on my part. Just as I was completely exhausted after a long ordeal that day ten years ago, Mr. Jonah can leave me exhausted after a long day of coaxing, prodding, threatening, begging, and pleading. 

But just like that day ten years ago, when they handed me that precious baby boy, and I quickly forgot all of the time and energy it took to get him here...I look at that sweet little boy, and I forget all of the time and energy it is taking to raise him, and I just thank the Lord for this amazing spirit that I have stewardship over.

He is just a mature spirit trapped in a young body. Sometimes when I am so frustrated trying to get Jonah to cooperate, I look into his eyes, and I can almost hear his little spirit speaking to me. It says something like this, "Dear Mother, do you not realize that I commanded legions in the war in heaven? Your meager parenting tactics will not work on me."

His spirit may be more mature than mine. I may be in over my head trying to raise this one, but I will continue to do my best. For you see, if he truly is as noble a spirit as I think he is, then he must be destined for greatness, and I will do all that I can to help him reach that greatness. Because I love him so much, and I so want this little boy to become the great man God intends for him to be.      

Budding Thespian

"When I was a teenager, I began to settle into school because I'd discovered the extracurricular activities that interested me: music and theater." -Morgan Freeman

I snuck over to the school yesterday for an afternoon performance of the play Spencer is in. He plays Lewis Carrol in his school's production of Alice in Wonderland. We have learned in the last year or so that Spence has quite a knack for theater. He is a natural on the stage. 

Last year, he auditioned when the school was putting on Aladdin. He came home one day and announced that his friend had landed the part of the Sultan. 

"Oh, that's great!" I said, "Did you get a part?" 

He responded, "Yeh, I got the part of the Sultan's son-in-law." Silence...Hmmmm....do I remember that character? 

"Mom...I'm Aladdin." 

Smart-Alek!

Over the next few months I would ask him if he needed help memorizing his lines or if he wanted to sing A Whole New World for me. His response left me chuckling, "No, I prefer performing for large crowds." So I went the entire time not knowing whether my kid could act or sing. I showed up on opening night to find out that I had a budding thespian on my hands.

I came home and discussed my surprise with Spencer. He said that he didn't know where he got it from since neither of his parents are actors. 

"Well...", I said,"...you know... I was quite the thespian back in my day. I stole the show as Veruca Salt in my elementary school's production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And it is a little known fact that I was a member of the Junior Shakespeare Company in the 8th grade. Did I mention that I starred in my stake's productions of The Capricious Pearls and Five on a Honeymoon? Anyway, if it were not for my hideous singing voice, I likely would have gone into musical theater in high school." 

Now it was Spencer's turn to be surprised. He mentioned to Neil that night that he didn't know his mom had been an actress, to which Neil replied, "Well...you know...when I worked at scout camp every summer as a teenager, they always cast me as the nerd in the staff skits, because they knew I was the only one who could ham it up sufficiently. I was quite the hit among the scouts."

Spencer was shocked to find out that this acting blood running through his veins may very well have come from his parents. 

This year was no different than last year. Spencer was very elusive about the play and would not let me in on any of his lines. And since I am one of those amazing moms who only put in the minimum mandatory one afternoon of volunteer time, and was far from the stage during that time, I was never privy to any of his rehearsals. I did start to question when I would walk into the school and find children and adults alike referring to me as "Lewis Carrol's Mom". 

So I was actually not surprised, this time, when Spencer was a hit. I was a little surprised when the whole cast exploded with applause when it was his curtain call. It will be interesting to watch this little budding thespian of ours. Something tells me that he will far surpass his parents' meager accomplishments. And I am speaking of more than the theater. 

Shining Mother Moments

"The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep." --E. Joseph Cossman

Sabrina had group lessons yesterday, which meant that we didn't get home until nearly 7:00, which meant that I ordered Neil to pick up some Taco Bell for dinner, which meant that the family ate sodium for dinner. 

I was a little on edge because I think I tweaked something at the gym and was suffering with a neck/headache. After dinner, Neil began wrestling with Jessica's pre-calculus...trigonometric identities...it wasn't pretty. I think I heard Jessica say several times, "It's ok Dad, calm down."

I was allowed the blessed privilege of helping Jonah practice his piano. He insisted that Dad help him. Apparently Dad's meager musical knowledge and soft heart are an advantage to Jonah. Nope not tonight. Tonight he got the music nazi who was suffering from a neck ache. 

It only took 30 minutes and threatening to confiscate his life savings to get the child to even sit at the piano. If I was to be in the same room while he practiced, he insisted that I sit there and not say a word. This would have been easily done had he been playing in the right key or had even attempted to count as he played. No, I could not let such things go. I insisted his sister come in and show him how to properly transpose his scale. And I insisted that he fix his mistakes, and I cruelly made him play while I counted out loud, at which point he slithered off the piano bench and told me how much he hated me. At this point, I was ready to set him out on the front porch for the remainder of the evening, for his safety as well as mine.

Not one of my shinier mother moments. I decided to cut my losses, get these kids into bed, and get some much longed for sleep. I woke up at 2:30 in the morning to pee. Curse that bladder of mine! And then I was awake for the rest of the night. 

So here I sit. My headache is alive and well. First thing out of Jonah's mouth as we got into the van to head to school this morning?..."Mom, you are not helping me with my piano today! You are deadly!" Something tells me that I'm in for a whole day of shining mother moments!

Wanderlust!

"I am not a great cook, I am not a great artist, but I love art, and I love food, so I am the perfect traveller." 

-Michael Palin

This is that time of year that I get hit with a bad case of wanderlust. Winter is finally beginning to move its sorry keister on out of here. It is the end of third term. The teachers seem to be kicking everything into high gear. The school system now begins to try to squeeze every last ounce of time, money, and energy out of American families. I find myself completely void of money, low on time, and sapped of energy. 

As I stare ahead at that gauntlet we call fourth term, I feel this urge to throw my family in the van and to squeal out of the neighborhood, with my thumb on my nose and my fingers wiggling in the air, as I yell, "So long Suckas!"

I don't really care where I go. Just somewhere where there are no planners or permission slips to sign, AP tests to pay for, spelling words to practice, or math problems to correct. I'd prefer somewhere warm.  

You know, somewhere like this:

Or maybe this:

This could be nice as well:

Of course, I'm always game for this place:

This would do nicely as well:

Oh, but I could do this too:

There's always here:

And I wouldn't be opposed to here either:

 This sounds really nice about now:

As does this:

Don't get me wrong, I'd do this one any day:

And a healthy dose of this would do anyone some good:

I love this idea:

And this one:

But I would probably lean more towards somewhere like this:

As you can see, I'm really not very picky. Just about anywhere would do. I just need the five people I love most, an Ipod loaded with plenty of Queen, Simon & Garfunkel, maybe a little Bach, and some wide open road. That's all I need. Hmmm. I think it's time to get out those travel books and the google machine and start planning!

Right-Brained All The Way

"Above all else, it is about leaving a mark that I existed. I was here. I was hungry. I was defeated. I was happy. I was sad. I was in love. I was afraid. I was hopeful. I had an idea and I had a good purpose and that's why I made works of art." -Felix Gonzalez-Torres

I have this child. This creative, artistic, right-brained child. She says all of the time, "I am completely right-brained. You could literally cut the left side of my brain out of my head, and I would be just fine."

I was looking through a folder in our computer. These are all of Jessica's pictures, taken and collected exclusively by herself. I don't need to say much. I think the pictures tell a beautiful story about who this amazing young woman is and what she is trying to become. 

This is her drawing. This drawing won an honorable mention in the district art fair when she was in the ninth grade. She only discovered recently that the photo she used as her model for this drawing contained the hands of none other than her favorite cellist, Rostropovich. She was thrilled at the discovery.

She made me take this picture of her in front of a painting of this, her favorite cellist. She fell in love with this painting at the violin shop when we were picking out her new cello. She named this new cello Antonio, but he is most often referred to as "Her Baby".

And here is Rostropovich in person.

And here sits Jessica, carefully examining his every musical move on Youtube while following along with her music. She plays her cello with absolute artistry. I believe this is because she intensely studies the masters. 

Silly musician humor.

Her cello bridge, sporting a violin mute. Once again, only a string player would find this amusing.

She went for a walk in the rain a few Sundays ago. Notice the earbud hanging out of her ear. This girl never walks through life unaccompanied. Beethoven, and Saint-Saens, and Dvorak, and Vivaldi tend to be her constant companions.

Another old bald cellist idol of hers. No Justin Bieber at our house...only old dead bald cellists with accents. This one is luckily still living. She is currently reading Janos Starker's Autobiography and loves his writing style. She was thrilled on Valentine's Day when we surprised her with Bach's Cello Suites edited by this guy. She has carefully watched every famous cellist play these suites and, after careful scrutiny, has decided that Mr. Starker plays them best. 

This must be the comments from her recent solo and ensemble performance on the school level. Because she received a superior rating on the school level, she went on to compete at the district level yesterday. Her private teacher was her adjudicator. We're trying to decide whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. She'll find out today at her lesson. 

I don't know where she found this quote, but it pretty much defines what she believes to be one of her callings in life.

And this is one of her only non-bald, non-old, non-male cellist idols. Jacqueline Du Pre was shaping up to be the first great female cellist, when she died young and tragically of colitis back in the 60's or 70's. 

I think Jessica feels a certain connection to this young beautiful musician.

This is Jessica's most recent drawing. One of the great tragedies of this grueling school year, is that she has had little time to draw. I admit, I miss seeing her sprawled out under a tree, with her sketchbook, earbuds in place, listening to Piatogorsky play Dvorak's Cello Concerto as she draws. We are anticipating summer here at the Watson house.

This seems to be her mantra. I'll nag Jessica for the tenth time to go work on her pre-calculus, and a few minutes later, I'll hear her tuning her cello. That sneaky girl! What am I going to do, tell her to "Quit practicing your cello, and go do your math!" Asking this child to quit using her right brain and to give her left brain some attention by doing some math problems is like asking her to leave Paris to go visit Nevada. She has no desire. The dreariness of the notion is too much for her.

But who needs math when you have music, and literature, and drawing, and painting, and photography, and art in all its splendid varieties? Who Indeed. There are plenty of people out there to work logarithms, you just go on creating beautiful music, writing lovely prose, and displaying this beautiful world in your drawings and photos. Let the left-brainers make the nice living, you keep on making this nice life worth living.