The Piano Blues

As I'm sitting here typing this I'm listening to my son, McKay (who is 16) play a beautiful piece on the piano--a medley of "Joseph Smith's First Prayer" and "Praise to the Man."  I am not gonna lie--it makes me proud.  Proud and glad that we made our kids take piano lessons for all those years.

Piano lessons are interesting.  I find that it follows a cycle much like this:

Phase 1, aka, "The Honeymoon Stage":  this begins around the age of 8 when the child is jumping up and down for joy at the prospect of taking lessons.  He eagerly does his theory first thing and asks when he can practice the piano and then proceeds to play the week's worth of songs in one day.  Mom and Dad look on, dreaming of their future concert pianist and patting themselves on the back for providing this opportunity.  

Phase 2, aka, "Two Weeks Later":  Reality sets in.  Practice is hard.  And it takes away from valuable nintendo playing time.  At this point Mom and Dad (but let's face it, it's really Mom) must devise ways to keep the pianist engaged.  Sticker charts, pennies lined up on the piano, candy treats, cold hard cash--we will stop at nothing because, dang it, we don't want our off spring growing up and saying that they wished their mom had made them practice the piano--seriously there are more than one of you reading this that said that to your mom, correct?

Phase 3, "The Torture Years":  Yep--it's torture.  For both the child and yourself.  And it will last--for a loooooooooooong time.  You will listen to endless scales--played at lightening speed so that they can get through them quickly and you will go crazy in the process.  Your child will spend hours sitting/laying on the bench whining that they don't knoooooooooooooow what note that it is and it's tooooooooooooooo hard.  There will be tears.  Lots of them.  And a few from your child as well.  There will be the endless battle to find their piano books: "I put them right here and SOMEBODY took them"  (only to have Mom find them exactly where they should be).  There will be frantic car rides to lessons when your pianist discovers he forgot to do his theory--again--and you are trying to help him transpose a song while navigating traffic which quite frankly probably ranks right up there with driving and texting as far as safety goes.  On good weeks your child will practice every day.  And then you find out that there are never good weeks and instead you're batting .500.  If you're lucky.  You will be forced to attend hour long recitals when all you really want to hear is the 2 minutes your kid plays.  And it sounds exactly like it does at home, so why are you here?  The child will curse your name, proclaim the fact that they have to practice "unfair" and they will tell you that they will NEVER make their kids take piano lessons.  And you will pay hundreds--no thousands of dollars--for all that.  

But finally...

Phase 4, "The Reward":  one day you will be rewarded for all that grief with your child playing a beautiful piano medley not because you made them, but because they want to.  Your house will be filled with lovely music and you realize it's been a long time since you were going mad listening to the 654th rendition of "Chop Sticks."  And it's worth it.  It really is.  

Harmony=Tacos?

Progress Report #2:

At this point I'd like to tell you that I am seeing notable progress in the cleaning department here at the Morgans.  Except I can't.  Because we aren't.

One of the great things here at the Morgan house is that we generally are a pretty happy bunch.  We've been blessed with harmony in our home and I wouldn't trade that for the world.  We have a good time together, the kids like to hang out with each other and I can honestly say that yelling is few and far between here.  Those are all great things.

What I'm struggling to figure out is how to keep the harmony and get a clean house in the process.  Because my house pretty much looks exactly the same since I started this little blog--except now we have jars with money.  So...clearly I need to reevaluate.  I know that most of this rests on my shoulders.  I need to be better about holding them accountable--but dang it, how am supposed to know whose apple core that is sitting on the ledge between the family room and kitchen?  (Seriously, why is there an apple core perched there?  Is is THAT hard to throw it in the trash?)  Now,  I've seen those moms that spend a good portion of the day yelling at their kids to "clean up and get their chores done or else!"  And honestly--I'll take a messy house over turning into that.  I honestly believe that yelling at our kids is never the answer.  Sometimes I listen to how parents treat their children (or their spouse for that matter) and I think, "how would you feel if someone was talking to you like that right now?" But I'll tell you something--those kids grow up and if you're a yeller, guess what they turn into?  Yep.  Yellers.  And they yell at you.  Now let me be the first to admit that I have had some pretty non-stellar mom moments when I wish I could take back what I said and I hate that feeling.  Yelling just doesn't seem to be the answer.  And now I'll get off my soapbox...

So...due to my lack of progress in regards to getting my kids to not be slobs I've set some goals for the week:

1.  First, I think it's time for me to look at each room with a critical eye and get rid of what we don't need and organize what we do need.  (Those top hats are on the chopping block.)
2.  I've got to go back to holding the kids more accountable by (calmly) asking them to please clean up their messes.  I've also got to let them know when they are losing money out of their jars when their jobs aren't done.  Right now, because I hate conflict, I sneak their dollars out of their jars when nobody is looking and then run to Baja Fresh with my booty.  I'll still head out to Baja but they'll know their laziness is funding my tacos.
3.  I'll make sure to thank them when their jobs ARE done.  How often do I forget to do that?  I mean, I love it when they thank me for making dinner so I can return the favor.

Now, lest you think this great experiment I've started is a complete failure, it is not--but more on that next time.  I know.  The suspense is killing you...

"All I want is a domesticated raccoon, two river otters and a non-nocturnal owl."

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting my children, I'll let you in on a little secret:  they're sort of hilarious.  Seriously--they are way wittier than me which is the Dave Morgan gene in action.  Last night we were discussing the "no pet" policy we have here at the Morgan house.  Lest you think I am a hater of animals, let me explain...

We have a no pet policy at the Morgan house.

The kids, of course, try to get me to change my mind.  It will never work.  But last night it escalated.  First off, they all told me that they were going to have pets of there own some day.  Fine by me.  They can grow up to have 20 cats each for all I care as long as they pay for their own therapy.  Then they informed me that I was going to babysit them.  Not. A. Chance.  Most of them seem content to aspire to own a dog but not Davis.  Nope.  He wants "a domesticated raccoon, two river otters and a non nocturnal owl."  Who wouldn't right?  When I explained to him that raccoons can be pretty mean he assured me that he would tame it--and in the meantime he'd keep it in his closet until it was ready to join the family.  As for the river otters--he has an elaborate river system in mind for his future backyard and he explained that he needs two of them because apparently river otters hold hands when they sleep.  And he thinks that's cute.  The non-nocturnal owl?  I have no idea.

See?  My kids are weird--in a hilarious sort of way.

This weirdness explains why my house is a mess.  For instance, one of them (who shall remain nameless) showers every morning and then pulls all the towels off the hooks to make a nest of sorts on the ground and takes a nap in the steamy bathroom which lasts until I come pounding on the door with the news that the bus is going to be here in 4 minutes.  No wonder we could feed a small nation for what we pay in hot water.

Another one received a plunger as a gag gift years ago and it makes me crazy because it follows me around the house.  Seriously--I'll turn around and it will be sitting there mocking me, stupid plunger.  One time I even found it in my bed.  I was actually excited because the thing disappeared for about a year but guess what?  It's back.  And now it's joined by two top hats.  I kid you not. What the heck?

Do other families have these problems?  And if so, what is the solution?  And if there is one, do I really want to implement it?  Because my house may be a mess but we're always laughing over here and that's saying something.  But in the meantime I better check my closets for a raccoon in training...

"Keep your wind out of my sails!"

I read a book a while ago that I may or may not have mentioned in a previous post.  (It is well established that I am lazy so even though I could take time to go back and check, I'm not going to.  After all, I've probably either scared everyone off or bored them to death so there are probably only about 5 people left who read this this thing anyway.  True friendship...)  What was I talking about?  Right--the book.  Anyway, it's a book by Dr. Michael Lehman titled, "How to Have a New Teenager By Friday" and I ADORE it!  Seriously--everyone with teenagers should read it.  In it he discusses the special "challenges" that teenagers come with and one of the comments he makes is that we can't "let our teenagers wind get in our sails."

Some weeks it's pretty windy around here.

Now, I would say that a majority of the time I really like having older kids.  We have some great discussions, I love seeing them mature and come into their own and they are way smarter than I was at their age.  But there are times that I want to look at them and ask, "what planet do you hail from?"

Most of the time it begins by me asking what I think is an innocent question.  That's what I get for thinking I guess.  Because it's met with incoherent mumbling, or eye rolling or the (somewhat) polite response to "get off my back."  So as I resorted to vacuum therapy today--what is it about vacuuming that seems to restore my sanity?--I repeated over and over, "Don't let their wind get in my sails.  Don't let their wind get in my sails."

Dr. Lehman explains that it's hard enough for teenagers what with all their raging hormones and what not that they don't need us parents getting all put out with their attitudes.  But man--sometimes I'm put out.

This approach of course goes against my natural helicopter mom inclinations.  I don't like it when all isn't well on the home front.  What I want to do is hash it out and get them to see that for heaven's sake their mother is right!  About everything!  Except I'm not, dang it.

And so, as we continue on this journey to helping our kids become more resilient and responsible I have to sometimes turn a blind eye to the mumbling and eye rolling.  I remind myself that most of these "windy" days are really inconsequential in the eternal scheme of things and most of the time, parenting teenagers is pretty rewarding.  Most of the time.

"It's cheaper than a therapist."

In our quest to teach our children resilience and self reliance I find it's a constant balancing act.  I've mentioned before that I hadn't realized how much "hovering" I did as a parent.  Let me tell you folks, I hovered.  So now, I feel in some ways that I'm in parenting 101.  In fact I mentioned to someone the other day that I felt like I knew what I was doing for the first 20 years and all of a sudden I'm not so sure...I mean heaven help you if you are the unlucky friend who runs into me in the Target baking aisle after a long day of me questioning my parenting approach.  (Apologies Michelle but you are considerably cheaper than a therapist.)

Now, don't get me wrong.  Even with some of the "stuff" we have going on at the Morgan household I still feel like we did pretty well. I mean, I was 20 years old when Jordan was born!  20 people!  I was a baby--a baby I tell you!  But there's always room for improvement.  I mean, you're talking to the mom who apparently didn't read the whole section on newborns in her parenting guidebook where it says that it might be a bad idea to put your baby to sleep on the same side every time.  Poor Jordan--it took two years for that kid's melon head to even out.  (But he did do a pretty decent impression of a pirate with his "aye matey" squinty look.)

Now I realize that hindsight is 20/20 so I'm not beating myself up too much but I do want to be better.  So I find myself questioning my approach to lots of things at the moment.  Do I remind my children to do their chores each day?  If so, how many times do I remind them?  At what point does "reminding" cross over into "helicopter mom nagging" territory?  Do I pick up their mess or leave it there for 8 hours until they come home from work?  If I leave it there, how do I keep from going crazy looking at it?

If there was anyone left out there that thought I have my act together this should make it pretty clear that I don't.  And you know what?  I'm kind of ok with that because that means there is room for improvement.  I think that too often we're afraid to "let it all hang out there" because we feel like  everyone else is better at "this" (whatever "this" is) than we are. But I tell you what.  These last few months have shown me that we ALL have things that we struggle with.  None of us are perfect--it's just enough to keep trying.  And besides which if I'm going too crazy Target's right down the street and law of averages suggests  SOMEONE I know is bound to be there.  Hey Michelle--you have any baking to do???