I have so much to write about, and even though I'd rather make each of my blog entries nice, concise, on-theme essays, it seems like my random posts are more frequent. I guess if I wrote more...? Oh, well. We'll just all have to deal, eh?
Yesterday I got a phone call from the principal. First time. Ever. #3 got into a small scuffle (the kid was making fun of him, my kid shoved the other kid, the other kid shoved back, it escalated, my kid elbowed the other in the eye --accidentally, it seems --and they both ended up in the principal's office) and the principal called me before he spoke to #3 about his punishment. I wish I could say I handled it with decorum and tact, but instead? I bawled like a baby. Completely cried my eyes out.
Luckily, our principal was very kind and even seemed to show remorse when I mentioned #3's 4S, my pregnancy, and the fact that we were already aware of #3's tendency to gravitate towards anger. It didn't help, though. I just felt like an idiot.
Long story short, he has detention during lunch recess all next week and wrote the kid a letter of apology (turns out the other kid has detention, too --and his mom was on guard duty at recess and took them BOTH to the principal; good mom!) and we had a nice talk after school about why we don't fight with kids at school. I figured it was all resolved. Done. Finished. But then he said:
"Yeah, Mr. Anderson (principal) is nicer than Miss G (our former principal)."
I stopped short.
"What? What do you mean he's nicer?"
"When I got in that fight last year and had to see Miss G."
"WHAT!? What do you mean you got in a fight and had to see her last year!?"
"I got in a fight with someone during recess and fell on the ice and I had to see Miss G and got detention during recess for 2 weeks while I was in 1st grade." (he said this all matter-of-factly)
"WHAT!?!?!?? I never got a phone call last year! I never heard about this!"
"That's because I didn't want you to get mad."
Trying to calm down: "Well, I'm glad Mr. Anderson called me!"
"Yeah, he's nicer."
So, it turns out, our kid isn't as clean on his record as we thought. Oh, sigh, sigh, sigh. We ended the conversation with honesty and telling mom EVERYTHING so she will know how to better help him in his life. Or something philosophical and logical like that.
Yesterday, before I got the principal phone call, a friend and neighbor offered us two tickets to the Utah Symphony. They were performing last night at BYU and my friend couldn't use their tickets (for some reason; I didn't ask) and so Brandon and I took them willingly. The symphony! I was very excited. I even showered, dear reader. I even put on make-up! It was that important. We barely made it in time, though --Brandon had to work late and rushed home, I jumped into the car (in a rotten mood because I was sure we would miss everything until intermission: "It's not a sporting event, you know! If you're late to the symphony, you have to wait in the hall!"), tried not to freak out when Brandon raced, raced, raced to BYU, and we walked into the concert hall just as they were tuning their instruments, headed to our seats just as the conductor walked out, and sat down just as the applause died down.
Phew! Brandon was one lucky man. ;)
It was a magical night, dear reader. Pure magic. I haven't been to something so perfect in such a long time! Here's the program:
Guest Conductor: Andrey Boreyko
Guest Pianist: Conrad Tao (17 year old prodigy who has been performing around the world for at least a decade. He BLEW MY MIND. I actually got emotional watching him play; it was breathtaking!)
*The Enchanted Lake, op. 62 by Anatoli Liadov
*Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, op 23
(Then we gave Conrad Tao several encores, so he came out and played Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody Number 6 (not the most familiar, publicly) and he amazed us again!)
*Shostakovich's Symphony No.5 in D-minor, op. 47
I was sincerely riveted for the entire two hours. Riveted. I've always been ho-hum about Shostakovich, but I am now a true fan. It was amazing! The whole thing.
You have to understand, though, dear reader, that I'm a classically trained musician. No, I'm not a prodigy, no I never got much past a few lessons in college (in other words, I'm not a concert pianist), nor have I ever performed professionally. However, I understand classical music, musical theory, and what it takes to be awesome. I enjoy it a lot. At the same time, I am pretty well-rounded in the music I enjoy and listen to. The other day, I had "Tears for Fears" radio going on Pandora. I enjoy some U2, Muse, Adele, Martina McBride, Enya, Journey, Bon Jovi, Pearl Jam, and Garth Brooks. But lately, I've been redrawn to Classical. In fact, as I'm driving, do you know what station I've been listening to the most? Classical 89. Yep. The BYU Classical music station. Three reasons why:
1. My Uncle Bruce (Bruce Seely) is the morning DJ (and has been for a decade or so)
2. It calms all the kids down; they seriously change moods within minutes after listening to that station
3. I think Baby likes it as much as I do. Maybe I'm growing a prodigy?
So, there you go. I love Classical Music. Here's the best part: So does my husband! He's also a classically trained musician, and he enjoys the symphony, Broadway, and the opera just as much as a Barenaked Ladies concert (we've seen them twice). Do you realize how lucky I am?
Maybe we should get season tickets to the Symphony next year.
Go read this post:
Don't Carpe Diem
I have been trying for YEARS to get the older women in my ward and neighborhood to admit that raising small children was not all peaches and roses as they claim. I've been trying to convince them that although they might miss their small kids, they really don't miss the poop, puke, dirt, tantrums, emotional outbursts, and constant disobedience. They won't budge, though. They claim that I need to just ENJOY EVERYTHING. If I don't, then I will regret it. Because they obviously regret it.
I don't believe them for a second.
I'm guessing they have either:
A. Repressed all the bad parts of motherhood
B. Denied themselves the joy of honesty
C. Just don't remember correctly
It's impossible to thrust current opinions upon the past. The past is past --it's done. If you had a hard time with it, just admit it! Who cares!? And instead of telling me how "it goes so fast, just enjoy every second!" they should say (much like the author of the link I just shared said) "It's hard with small kids, isn't it? Here, let me buy you chocolate and watch your children for the afternoon so you can take a nap."
Now THAT is something I would agree with!
I've also been accused of being ungrateful by women without children. They tell me just to be glad I have them! Because it's obvious I'm not...glad...? This confuses me. Having children is HARD WORK. It's not easy! It wasn't MEANT to be easy. Children are a blessing, a joy, and a gift from God --absolutely! --but really? I'm not allowed to admit how hard it is? I'm not allowed to confess that sometimes I just want to curl into a ball and take a vacation every once in a while? Anything worth having in this life takes hard work. Marriage, jobs, talents, skills, education, and CHILDREN. I'm eternally grateful for mine, but it still does not change the fact that children make life harder. Better, yes, but harder. I don't want to diminish another woman's struggle with her desire for children that haven't come into her life, yet, but please, please, please! Don't accuse me of hating my life because I admit children are hard work.
And now, that is all. Carry on!