Fifteen and Feisty

"I am here to live out loud." -Emile Zola

Fifteen years ago, the day after Thanksgiving, at six o'clock in the morning, we dropped our toddler off at my visiting teacher's home and headed off to the hospital. We were living in Washington state. We had no family nearby, and we were about to bring our second child into the world. There was some trepidation. We had learned that we were pregnant at the same time we had learned that I had developed an auto-immune blood disorder sometime after Jessica's birth. 

The initial blood work revealed that my platelet count had dropped and that I was no longer in the safe zone for an epidural. I had only been warned of this possibility a week before, so the only preparation I had made for a natural childbirth was to have Neil give me a priesthood blessing the night before. Ready or not, this baby was going to be delivered, and it was going to be delivered naturally.

Five excruciating hours later, this little bundle of energy came into the world. I can remember holding her in my arms and thinking, "This will be my last child, because I will never ever go through that again. So sad, because I really did want a son eventually." 

Three weeks later, one week before Christmas, we took our toddler and our newborn and moved back to Utah. A storm chased us all the way out of Seattle. I can remember climbing in the backseat and nursing my little Sabrina that frigid winter night as we made our way across the Idaho freeways.

Sabrina came at a time in our lives that was crawling with change. It is no wonder that the child came into the world with spunk. As she rocked comfortably within the womb, her mother was dealing with an unfamiliar illness, the possibility of a lay-off for her husband, the selling of a home and moving into an apartment, the receiving of a new job back in Utah, and moving once again, this time to another state. Sabrina's personality only reflects that crazy time in her parent's lives.

I began to wonder for the first time if this little infant I held in my arms might be overflowing with personality when at three months old, I had a hard time getting Sabrina to eat because she was too busy cooing. This was a mere foreshadowing of the verbal wonder we had just brought into the world. She began speaking at ten months old. The child couldn't walk, but she could talk.

And she could talk! And talk...and talk. She had this little tiny voice, which made it all the cuter as she would walk up to complete strangers and begin to chatter incessantly, large vocabulary and perfect diction flowing from her lips at a mind-boggling rate. There was no stranger danger for this child. I always worried that Sabrina would hop into a car with any adult willing to lend a listening ear.

When my visiting teachers came over, Sabrina would nestle herself comfortably between the two of them and begin to chitchat about all of her favorite stuffed critters. She always felt herself to be on a level playing field conversationally with any adult. And to be quite honest, this feisty little toddler had as much wit as any big person, and often left the big people speechless or chuckling.

Sabrina is our fast talker. If the family is extra hungry at Sunday dinner, we are quick to call on Sabrina to pray. She gets out a remarkable amount of well-thought out words of gratitude and pleas for blessings, and all in an amazing 30 seconds. Most people aren't fluent in "Sabrina" so her siblings often have to translate for her. On more than one occasion she has been encouraged to go into auctioneering or at the very least audition to be that voice that lists 300 side-effects in sixty seconds at the end of the prescription drug commercials. I have come to the conclusion that the thoughts are coming so quickly and so ferociously in the head of this child, that she must talk quickly to get them all out. She says her brain is like a ping-pong ball in a hurricane.

 Her little brother, only 20 months younger than her, had a stuttering problem for a couple of years as a youngster. I attribute it to the fact that his older sister talked so rapidly and so constantly that he was always attempting to start a sentence and never succeeded.

I warn people not to let that blue-eyed blondie with the sweet expression deceive them. Sabrina's tongue can often be as sharp as it is swift. Heaven help her husband. The girl can argue circles around anyone and can spew venom at alarming rates. I will not expound on the vicious email Sabrina sent to her orchestra teacher last year after she had the gall to place Sabrina in the third violin section. The teacher forwarded the email to me, and I switched off between embarrassed guffaws and shocked gasps as I read the scathing paragraph. This was one of those instances where we had to remind Sabrina that that sharp sword Sabrina calls her tongue must be managed. She sent an apology email to her teacher that was as sappy as the first email was venomous. I felt like I was in a scene from Anne of Green Gables.

Over the years, Sabrina's personality has only continued to overflow. The child can put me on the verge of peeing my pants quicker than anyone else.

At fifteen years old, her wit is only quicker. Her tongue just as fast. She now wishes to transfer those vibrant thoughts onto paper as she has begun to write. She has a novel well over 100 pages in process and  received 100% on her first essay and writing portfolio in her honors english class. This is quite a feat, for her teacher expects much and is not easily impressed. This girl is going to do great things, and something tells me it will be through her words, both verbal and written. Language...it is the medium she uses masterfully.

I can only say that this beautiful child who came into the world at a most exciting time continues to keep life exciting. And she keeps me laughing. And I love her for it! There are so many things I love about her. I love how she feels deeply. I love her crazy cat obsession that she reminds me will never go away. I love how comfortable she is in her own skin and how she makes no excuses for who she is. I love her sense of style. I love that she walks around without a stitch of makeup 95% of the time. I love that she is passionate about so many wonderful things. I love how open she is to talking to new people and making new friends. I just love her! Happy Birthday Sabrina!

Her Month To Shine

"She would rather light candles than curse the darkness and her glow has warmed the world." -Adlai Stevenson

November seemed to be Sabrina's month to shine. She started with the Suzuki Grand Concert right off the bat, and went right into rehearsals for Select Orchestra. Sabrina was one of a handful of students picked from her junior high to participate in a Davis School District Select Orchestra. 

What a treat for her to join with other serious musicians from all over the county and play repertoire that challenged her. She now has a whole new list of favorite music that apparently I must purchase from iTunes, Bacchanale from Sampson and Delilah by Saint-Saens being at the top of the list.

Just a week after that, it was time for her violin recital with Cathy's studio. Sabrina has been living to finally be able to play Dvorak's Humoresque, and to be allowed to play it for her recital was a privilege for which she was very grateful.

 Every good performance requires a last minute bathroom rehearsal.

 The bathroom rehearsal paid off as Sabrina blew away the audience with her artistically masterful version of Humoresque. You could almost hear the violin laughing as her bow danced across the strings. That girl knows how to feel the music and make the audience feel it as well. Without fail, I am approached by at least one parent after each concert telling me how much they love to watch Sabrina play. I guess I'm not the only one.

I love that I caught a shot of that beautiful shift!

Sunday marked the day Sabrina had been waiting for all month. Her birthday celebration at last! Everyone has to wait a year for their birthday, but when your birthday falls at the end of November, it feels like you have to wait longer than anyone else. Her actual birthday is on the 27th, but she chose to celebrate it early since it always falls right on top of Thanksgiving.

She received a whole range of lovely gifts. This monkey t-shirt screamed Sabrina, so Jess had to buy it for her.

And this sweatshirt has been on Sabrina's wish list for months. The girl loves herself some Olan Rogers. She wore it yesterday. Yes, it was a Monday, the only connection that most of her peers made. 

She's been wanting to read Little Women for some time. I surprised her with a pocket collector's book of some of Abraham Lincoln's writings. She's obsessed with the Gettysburg Address and has been carrying a copy of it around in her pocket since last week, in hopes that she'll be able to memorize it. Abraham Lincoln is her favorite president, and I can't help but agree with her. So now she can carry his genius writings around with her.

Jessica nailed yet another darling customized birthday cake. A Sherlock Holmes cake per Sabrina's request. No, she hasn't watched a single episode of the TV series. She's a purist. If you're wondering which of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's mysteries to read first, just ask Sabrina. She's read them all.

 I think it was a good birthday, despite being displaced on her 15th birthday. 

I'm glad Sabrina got a chance to shine this month! She has so many gifts to share with the world. I can't continue to keep her all to myself, though I try. 

Stopping For Beauty

"(Bell) does nothing less than tell human beings why they bother to live." -Interview magazine

Last summer, we saw the Utah Symphony perform at Deer Valley. Jessica sat on our quilt perusing the program. Suddenly she was convulsing as she stared at the opened pages. Either she was suffering from appendicitis, or something exciting was in that program. She pointed to an ad announcing that Joshua Bell would be performing at BYU in the fall. "MOM, WE HAVE TO GO TO THIS!" were the words coming from her semi-hyperventilating throat.

Fast forward to a month ago, when Jessica reminded me that tickets would be going on sale the next Tuesday. No, she had not forgotten. I couldn't find pricing for said tickets anywhere, but I knew they would not be cheap. This guy demands ticket prices of $100.00 easily at most venues. By now, she had her brother and sister as accomplices for this plot of hers. I asked, "And how pray tell, do you think we are going to come up with the money for these alleged tickets?" Jessica immediately offered to buy her own ticket. Sabrina and Spencer chimed in that they would be willing to give up their allowance for the rest of the year to pay for their tickets. Neil and I agreed to give up our measly allowances as well. Somehow, I was able to get on the web before the concert sold out and secured us five seats to the Joshua Bell concert. Last night was the big night.

Yes, Jonah stayed home with Mor Mor and Grandpa, much to his elation, and ours. As I contemplated purchasing a pricey ticket for this fidgety ten year old, I had a horrific flashback to the first symphony we ever took Jonah to. He was finally old enough to attend such an event. I was thrilled not to have to get a babysitter. The New American Symphony was performing at Weber State, and Dr. Wang would be the guest violinist. I talked the whole thing up to Jonah. I reminded him how cool it was for him to be able to hear real orchestra music like his siblings had been for the last few years. We had secured some pretty good seats, so we were awfully close to front and center in this intimate concert hall. The lights were turned down, a hush filled the room, and the symphony began its first melodic notes. At which point Jonah belted in absolute despair, "OH NO, THIS IS GOING TO BE BORING!" Suffice it to say, that was a long night. We could afford no such explosions last night.

The long trek through traffic to the BYU campus, not to mention that small fortune we scrounged up to attend the concert, were absolutely worth it. They call Joshua Bell, the "poet of the violin", and what he played last night was sheer poetry. To be that phenomenal at anything is beyond my understanding. I suppose few of us are willing to give a lifetime of study and practice to become what he has become. As he ended his beautiful Beethoven sonata and left the stage, for intermission, sweat dripping from his black hair, Sabrina gazed longingly at this photo, 

and asked, "Is he single? Because he is one nice looking violinist!" 

I am reminded of a bishop who had been a high school athlete, and said to me one day, "You know, I always thought girls liked guys who could play sports, but I have since learned that they like a man who can sing." And I would add, play the violin, or the cello, or the piano. Sabrina was swooning, as have countless other women at Mr. Bell's concerts. I told her that I was pretty sure he wasn't married to anyone but his 300 year old Strad. She gave a quiet sigh.

Bell dazzled us with his final number...Stravinsky's The Fairy Kiss. Stravinsky is intense, and so is Joshua Bell. The whole thing brought the entire room to our feet. Naturally, we called him back for an encore, and applauded him onto the stage three more times after the encore. It was great!

As we stood in an hour line, waiting for autographs, I was reminded of one of my favorite articles. The Washington Post did an experiment six years ago. Joshua Bell went incognito into the L'Enfant metro station in Washington D.C., posing as a simple street performer, and played for 45 minutes on his 4 million dollar Strad. This violinist who often makes $1,000.00 an hour for performing, gave over a thousand people a free concert in the subway station that day. He asked for nothing more than what cash they were willing to throw into his open case. What happened was fascinating and telling. Read all about it here:

www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html

I will ask you what I asked myself as I read this article. If during your normal routine you happened across a world-renowned violinist playing one of the most beautiful pieces ever written on one of the most beautiful violins ever made, would you stop? Would you listen? Would you take time for beauty? 

I'm pretty sure that these three kids would stop and probably drop what remained of their tiny allowances into the gentleman's empty case. And I'm pretty sure that I would to.

But for now, we are stripped of anymore funds. There will be no more symphonies for this family. The well has run dry. But I suppose we'll be working financial miracles again in a few months, because you see the Utah Symphony is performing Dvorak's Ninth in March, and according to my three children, "WE HAVE TO GO TO THIS!" If you wish to send any cash to the Watson Fund, please feel free to do so. The proceeds go to a good cause, namely the appeasing of the voracious musical appetites of at least three string-crazed children. 

They Say It's Your Birthday

"We have to be able to grow up. Our wrinkles are our medals of the passage of life. They are what we have been through and who we want to be." -Laura Hutton

Last week was my birthday. I turned 39 years old. Ugh! They say 40 is the next 30, but judging how I feel lately, I'm wondering if it's the next 50. I feel this need to cherish the next year, before 40 comes and brings with it mammograms, another dreaded slow of the metabolism, and a few more brain cells annihilated. The terrifying thing is that I know that I'll look back someday and say, "Oh, to be 39 again. Those were the days!" Really? I'm going to look back and think THIS body was skinny? I'm going to think THAT face looks young? I'm going to have MORE aches and pains and LESS energy? Heaven help me.

Sorry for the gloomy outlook. Who knows, maybe I'll be skinnier, smarter, and more energetic at 40 something. And maybe I'll win the lottery and move to Paris. It's possible. 

Aside from despairing over my imminent aging, my birthday really was good. The actual day fell on a Thursday. Grown up birthdays are so fun when they fall on a weekday. You know, I did exciting things like picking kids up from school, taking notes at violin lessons, and working on homework all night. It's a glamorous life, but some of us have to live the dream. There were a few reminders that the day was somehow "specialer" than the rest. Jessica left me a sweet card with a Barnes and Noble gift card attached. The child knows me. There's something about when your child grows up, gets a job, and starts "giving back" in little ways. Like when she writes a note and thanks you for all that you've done for her over the years, because now that she has to do much of it for herself, she realizes what a sacrifice it was. And like when she gives you money to spend at your favorite bookstore coupled with a promise of lunch on her. Birthdays start to get fun again when your kids start growing up.

I went to Barnes and Noble immediately. No need allowing a perfectly good gift card to burn a hole in my pocket, and you know, I have a shortage of books. It's funny how when you have no money, you find yourself with a dozen books in hand and no ability to whittle them down. And when you have money to spend, you can't seem to find a single book that just jumps out at you. I settled on two books that have been on my list for sometime. "The Great Bridge" by David McCullough, a history of the building of the Brooklyn Bridge by one of my favorite authors. And "Destiny of the Republic" by Candice Millard, a history of "madness, medicine and the murder of a president", as the front cover indicates. It's all about the assassination of Garfield. I know. I know. These sound like real page-turners. You spend your gift card the way you want, and let me spend mine the way I want.

After the bookstore, I went over to Tracie's, where I met mom and my sisters for lunch. We enjoyed Cafe Rio salads and Madbrooks donuts while we chatted the afternoon away. It was so nice of everyone to take time off of work and their busy lives to celebrate with me.

Neil saved our celebration for the weekend. He has come to learn over the years that if he really wants to pamper his wife, it is best to feed her some good food, and lots of it, then take her to the symphony.

After finding out that my favorite Italian restaurant, Biaggi's, just up and left the Gateway, I decided that Z Teja's would have to suffice. The cornbread and trio of guacamole, salsa, and queso served with warm chips, were adequate substitutions for focaccia bread dipped in olive oil and vinegar. Once I had gorged myself beyond all that is decent, we were off to the symphony.

It is so very kind of the Utah Symphony to include my favorite pieces for the concert that falls nearest my birthday each year. Last year, it was Bolero. Perhaps the first piece of classical music I fell in love with as a child. It's as if Terry Fischer called me up a month ago and asked me in his charming Swiss accent, "Mrs. Watson, and what would you have us play this year for your birthday?" And I replied, "Why thank you for asking Mr. Fischer! You know, I've been craving some Vivaldi's Four Seasons lately, and I've never heard it live." And he replies, "Done! I'll see you on the 9th!" 

And so we showed up and listened to Nicola Benedetti, one of the violin world's new young superstars, play an amazing rendition of the Seasons accompanied by a remarkable group of symphony members. This version was faster and grittier than I've heard before. I liked it. I really liked it.

Neil was offered 11th row Jazz tickets last weekend. I told him to find some guy to go with him. Sitting in a noisy stadium, the smell of beer wafting through the chaos, listening to semi-drunk patrons shout obscenities to some guy trying to get a ball into a basket, just isn't my idea of an enjoyable and relaxing weekend.

But put me in a room with fine-dressed individuals, where all is perfectly silent, where you wait to cough until in between movements, where the music glides through the acoustical masterpiece of that concert hall and touches every ear and heart, and where everyone stands and applauds with respect and yells BRAVO, and refuses to stop until the violinist graces us with another brilliant piece...that's where you find me purring on a Saturday night.

And Neil is so kind to humor me. When the Four Seasons ended, he said, "I must not know Vivaldi, because I didn't recognize most of that music." 

I was shocked. How did he not recognize the Four Seasons? This piece of music was probably the second piece of classical music that I fell in love with as a teenager. It was the first piece of classical music that I purchased for myself after I got my teenage job. My Vivaldi's Four Seasons tape traveled with me to college and into marriage. I guess I haven't listened to it enough in recent years. I'll need to remedy that.

We even spotted Jessica's Utah Youth conductor who plays violin in the symphony. We love this woman! She's one of those enthusiastic mentors who's understanding of music and how it touches people really influences your child. She got Miss Benedetti to come and talk with and play for the students this morning. That was a treat for Jessica.

I could have sat there listening to the Symphony all night. But alas, the final note was played, the final Bravo exclaimed, and it was time for my birthday to end. We had talks to give the next day in church. Normal life was to resume. No more being special. 

Thank you Neil, for hitting another birthday home-run! The only thing that makes getting old bearable, is the thought of doing it with this amazing man who I fall deeper in love with everyday. I just adore him. He's the best decision I ever made!

I reminded Neil on our way home, like I did last year as I came off my Bolero high...If we ever become filthy rich, I will spend our money on season tickets to all of Utah's Performing Arts. We have a rich arts scene in this state, and I'd love to do more to keep it funded and thriving. Consider that my plug to get out and go to the symphony or the ballet! Come on people, those sweaty guys throwing balls at baskets get enough of our money, and they'll be washed up in less than a decade. Art can touch us for a lifetime! So let it!

A Look Back At October

"I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than to be crowded on a velvet cushion." -Thoreau

 I was so busy last month reminiscing about my meanderings in Paris, that I failed to discuss the many things going on in my family during that blissfully beautiful month of October. I will attempt to cover the month in a nutshell, but I fear that my wordiness may win out yet again.

What does October mean at the Watson house? It means a family picnic in the mountains on Conference Sunday to celebrate the changing of the leaves.

It means dusting off my meager photography skills and doing photo shoots of my favorite nieces and nephews.

It means that Sabrina gets to show off the culinary skills she is learning in her foods class by making homemade macaroni and cheese for dinner, leaving her mother thrilled that she didn't have to cook, and licking her plate after partaking of such cheesy goodness.

It means the anticipated appearance of the arctic snow hat. If it's the least bit nippy, Dad doesn't mess around.

It means saying good-bye to the fall soccer season, much to Jonah's disappointment. Of the many things Jonah complains about ruining his life, soccer is not one of them. We look forward to watching our star defender next spring.

The one consoling detail about the last game of the season is a warm cup of hot chocolate and a donut for a season well played.

October means piano lessons each week, much to Jonah's chagrin. This is one of those things that he reminds me every week is ruining his life. I keep going back and forth about whether it's time to cut our losses on this one, but MUSIC IS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL THING! I'm not ready to give up on this kid yet, but talk to me after Jonah's practice session this evening.

It means that finally, after what seemed like forever, we have a hole in the ground with our name on it. I'm so aching for my own space, that I've been tempted just to put a tent up right there in the middle of our footprint. 

It means a trip to Temple Square for the best turkey sandwiches in the state at Nauvoo Cafe.

Coupled with a lovely and free concert given by the Orchestra at Temple Square. 

The guest cellist just happened to be playing the Haydn Concerto, which is the very piece Jessica is trying to perfect for the many upcoming auditions she is facing in the not-so-distant future. We perched ourselves on the very front row of the balcony just above Mr. Graisford, so that Jess could watch his every shift and impressive vibrato in thumb position while she followed along in her own music.

President Uchtdorf is quite cultured, and we usually see him at these events. Jessica noted that he was one of the few people not applauding between movements. Now there's a man who knows classical music. We got to watch as the cellist introduced his young son to Pres. Uchtdorf. 

October means Suzuki rehearsals.

And Utah Youth parent meetings at the university.

And it means school Halloween dances, with teens all dressed up as their favorite famous couples.

It means ward parties at the local farm, one of the perks to having farmers in your ward.

It means crockpots full of hot soup and hay rides out to the pumpkin patch and generous farmers making sure everyone leaves with a pumpkin in hand.

And face painting, and hot chocolate, and donuts.

It means fall storms that blow the yellow leaves off the trees and leave dustings of snow on the tops of the mountains.

It means primary programs that leave the whole room wiping their eyes after hearing angels sing and bear testimony.

It means fall school orchestra concerts, where we get to hear eerie pieces like the Haunted Carousel and the theme from Psycho.

It is so fun to have Spencer and Sabrina playing in the same orchestra now!

It is also fun when the high school band and orchestra play in a combined concert where we get to watch our cousin jam out on the sax.

As well as our daughter dazzle us with the cello.

It means a Halloween miracle when they pour the footings for our house!

It means Halloween costumes. A ring-wraith. Thank heavens for Amazon and its selection of costumes from movies ten years old.

A Newsie. Being the Halloween-Grinch that I am, the kids are on their own for costumes after 6th grade. Not bad Spence, for a costume thrown together last minute. He also snuck in one more year of trick-or-treating. I generally cut the kids off in junior high. There is something offensive to me about a deep-voiced teenager in a wig standing on my porch begging for candy.

Sabrina sporting her most recent addition to her ever expanding masquerade mask collection.

And what does the fox say? This girl will tell you, and with enthusiasm.

It means cat-sitting while Angie is off traveling the world again.

Mr. Walter White is just about as cute as you get with those little white paws and long whiskers. He's feisty and fun!

It means the Suzuki Grand Concert. An event Sabrina never forgets to inform me that she loathes.

But she just has to suffer through it, because I love it. I love how they start with the most difficult pieces then work their way down through the Suzuki repertoire. I love how it starts with maybe six kids playing a complex piece, and slowly they are joined by more and more violinists, until the whole stage is packed with string players participating in the grand finale..the twinkle variations. Everyone starts with the twinkles. It always goes back to the twinkles.

October means that honors book reports are due. Great Expectations for Sabrina, Picture of Dorian Gray for Jessica, both deliciously wicked novels, perfect for this time of year. Out of the Silent Planet for Spence as well as a biography of J.R.R. Tolkien. Apparently the children have lost all but their procrastinator pants this school year because they each had about eleventy hundred pages to read in about ten days time. So I would send them to their bedrooms to read like maniacs. And how does a maniac read, you ask? Well, if you had been here you might have seen as I demonstrated to my children what reading like a maniac looks like. Just picture me holding a book open and my eyes and head flitting about all frenzied-like as I frantically turn pages. That is maniacal reading, and it's what my children were condemned to for about ten days straight. 

By some miracle, all the books got read, and reports turned in and aced, also by some miracle. The mother of these dear children now pleads with them, 

"For the love of all that is good and holy, will you please just open up next term's read right now and could you please, I beg you, all of you, just read one chapter a night?! Please!!! For the sake of your mother's poor nerves PACE yourself this term!"

 I'm sure my pleadings fell on deaf ears, as they usually do. But how else does one maintain one's humility except by consistently being ignored?

Well, I got my reads in this month. Since I seem to be obsessed with all things French these days, my reading only reflects my fixation. The Greater Journey by David McCullough was a delight. It is all about the Americans that moved to Paris to study in the  1800's. I started the book on my ten hour flight back from Paris. And I read it maniacally I must say. I couldn't help but devour each page as it discussed the places I had just seen. David McCullough is already one of my favorite authors, so I knew I would enjoy the writing, but the content was fascinating. I don't think we realize just how many of the American greats of the 19th century received their inspiration in Paris. I'm even talking as close to home as those who painted the murals inside the Salt Lake Temple. Those artists studied in Paris before beginning work on the temple. I also didn't realize how little I knew about French history past the Reign of Terror and Bonaparte. Great Read!

Once I had finished The Greater Journey, I had a hankering for some more French history, particularly that of Marie Antoinette, after visiting the Conciergerie and Versailles. Man I'm glad I set this book aside when I was packing up my bookshelves! Antonia Frasier is my other favorite historical author, so I'm already enjoying this read. 

Well, there you have it. October in a nutshell. I have one thing to say on this the 5th of November...BRING ON THE HOLIDAYS!