Orchestra at last

Kalina after her concert.
She was delighted by
the knowledge that 
everyone was going to
completely clash in their
Christmas outfits and
bright orange masks!

Ever since Kalina has been old enough to understand that music is different than other sounds we hear, she's reacted to it. First, but a super-smooth dance move I didn't see anywhere else. Then, by singing and humming, in tune. With great rhythm, no less. 

Although she's not one to just pick up and start playing of her own volition, with a couple nudges, and the occasional strong persuasion, she flourishes. Kalina began piano at nearly 5 and picked up on it quickly. She stopped wanting to practice a few weeks in, but, after the 3 or so years we've required of all our kiddos, she didn't push (too hard) to stop.

In her low moments we always reminded her that learning piano would help her with other instruments as well as develop her brain.

Then I heard about a highly reviewed homeschool orchestra program that I just knew Kalina would love. Right? She agreed that it might be a good idea to try, and when it finally gcame time for Kalina to bring home a rental viola, sure enough, she was able to dig right in. 

I'd taught her a few violin skills a while back, which she actually remembered. We also attended a class offered by the music store about the care and keeping of a violin. She's shown the utmost diligence in adhering to the guidelines--sometimes annoyingly so (putting the entire thing completely away just to make a quick trip to the bathroom mid-practice-session).

Kalina quickly learned a new clef, thanks to her masterful transposition skills, and gradually began to make the instrument sound tolerable, while I attempted to provide just the right amount of instruction to keep her going, but not so much that I overwhelmed or irritated her. Sometimes I succeeded. I promised her that although our schedule conflicted with homeschool orchestra at the time, she'd be able to sign up for it the next year (so, fall of 2020).

But with the good ear Kalina has for music, she knew her playing wasn't up to standards. Which made her want to try harder, right? Nope. She put on a brave face for a month or two, but then she was kinda ready to be done. And who can blame her, honestly? "I feel like I'm getting good at piano, but viola...?" She wasn't wrong--we all know something like learning an instrument is a long haul.

After the usual pep talk ("I know this is hard, but I really think you'll think it's worth it when you play in orchestra next year, and if not, you can quit, plus you're really sounding better all the time"), she'd begrudgingly pick up her instrument again.

Repeat every few weeks.

We inched along in the music book the music store had prescribed, with Kalina hesitant to forge ahead, and me walking the tightrope between patience and non-threatening nudges toward progress.

We did have a few highs: she found a few gems in the beginner book, including a round she could play endlessly with me on piano (unfortunately for her, I couldn't). She started to think of herself as a viola player.

But keeping the practice routine going was a chore for both of us. Finally, to save our sanity, I started giving Kalina a week off a month. She only reluctantly picked up her instrument at the end of that week, but at least found the arrangement somewhat fair and so didn't argue (much).

By early summer, Kalina was nearing the end of her music book, as well as her rope. I encouraged her to skip to the end, since the final pieces were more interesting and therefore more motivational. But also more intimidating. Lest I sound pushy, I'll take a moment to remind us all that Kalina was born with perfect pitch, perfect rhythm, and a strong appreciation for classical music. She's no slouch.

Unfortunately, the steam Kalina had been coasting on evaporated in the lazy summer heat. This time I could tell nothing was going to work: no refreshing breaks, or cool pieces, or pep talks. 

And if it hadn't been for the fact that orchestra would be starting in just 4 weeks, I think we would've handed in the instrument and pretended it never happened. But at least we would've stayed friends.

As it happened, not only was it finally, finally time to sign Kalina up for orchestra, but she'd need to perform a low-key audition just so the conductor could place her in the correct orchestra for her level. "Can she come tomorrow?" the conductor asked over the phone. Knowing my girl, I bought her an extra day or two to let her get used to the idea.

With her self-respect on the line, she practiced without needing an extra nudge. 

I knew the audition would be low-key, but what I didn't expect was that due to the fact that I try not to overuse air-conditioning, my temperature would be slightly elevated when we entered the store and I would have to wait outside. Fortunately, Kalina's was fine, so Naomi, Elise, and I killed time in the car and the conductor came outside to chat from a distance after they were finished, and let us peek into the large orchestra room while enumerating their covid precautions. 

And as often happens in life, but is by no means assured, Kalina's hard, if occasionally reluctant, work paid off! She was placed in the intermediate orchestra, and given a few tips on holding the bow. 

And my hard work, too, by the way. Because it's been real. And now I get to officially call myself a viola teacher, which is probably enough to make any actual viola teacher cringe.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that I wasn't able to enter the store, we'd have to return at a later time to fit Kalina for the next-size-up viola. 

At home, my temperature was perfectly normal--but the 20-minute round-trip drive meant I wasn't eager to return the same day. Still, I appreciated their caution, especially since we were going to be sending Kalina in for orchestra once a week.

When we arrived the next week to claim a larger viola, I blasted the air conditioning, and we were all admitted into the store. A viola was quickly found, and when Kalina played it her eyes lit up--the larger instrument meant a richer, mellower sound, plus shiny new rosin, and she was hooked, at least temporarily.

We celebrated with frozen yogurt at the nearby place, and the girls giggled at the fact that they weren't allowed up to the counter to pick out toppings ("No Children [and their grubby little hands and uncovered sneezes] At Toppings Station," a sign warned us). They had to call their topping choices out to me from 10 feet away, and then we all ate outside.

Practicing went better as Kalina enjoyed her new instrument and began digging into the first few exercises in the orchestra book she'd be using. The month or so left to wait before orchestra began, however, dragged on. But just as Kalina was again about ready to throw in the towel, I was able to remind her that orchestra was the next week...and then the next day. 

Nervous? Absolutely. But guardedly excited, Kalina responsibly packed up her instrument and music, forgetting nothing and eagerly headed out the door. 

Was I nervous? Thank you for asking! Actually, I felt as though my career as a mom hinged on this event. I'd taken the risk of nudging, urging, pushing, and pulling Kalina into orchestra--not without her acquiescence, but sometimes against her immediate desires (to go read instead). But the question remained: how well do I know my own child?!?

I walked Kalina to the door, and she bravely headed in. While I bravely headed back to the minivan.

The weather was beautiful and I'd left Naomi and Elise home with work-at-home Matt, a few short assignments, and a Magic Schoolbus DVD. The commute back and forth to orchestra class is significant enough that I didn't want to drive back and forth, so I spent my time at the park planning for my writing class and chatting with a new homeschooler (there are a lot of those nowadays).

I would imagine we've all guessed it: Kalina came out of orchestra ecstatic about her opportunity to play with a group. But also intimidated by the amount of music she'd need to learn by next week. We might have to pick up our pace--something deliberate Kalina has not encountered before, as she usually prefers to take her time and learn something 100% (and remember it pretty much forever) than rush through--and her piano teachers have always appreciated and accommodated that preference. 

This proved to be a stretching experience. But Kalina seemed to show up (mostly) prepared for each class, plus her skills improved greatly. Being a "caring" [read: nosy] mom, I asked her each time I picked her up if she was keeping up okay. In subtle ways, of course. It sounds as though although the cello section wasn't quite pulling it's weight all the time, Kalina probably was. Or she's old enough to do a great cover-up job when telling her mom about it.

Plus, she took it seriously enough that she was uncomfortable with the idea of going in unprepared. So although Kalina still doesn't relish practicing, the weekly class is enough to keep her going. I got to hear play-by-plays of the progress they were all making on the way home.

Naomi, Elise and I settled into a Thursday-morning routine of dropping Kalina off at orchestra, and then heading to the nearby park for nature study, drawing, science, poetry, literature, writing, PE, a little math--or whatever fit into the morning. Most of the time, the weather cooperated well enough, and either way, the van was warm. They LOVED this (except when we studied bugs--that was not Naomi's favorite) and although it took a little extra creativity and preparation on my part, I usually did, too. 

In this way, Thursday mornings were good for all of us--Kalina would come out of orchestra just glowing, and Elise and Naomi enjoyed a different type of learning, plus some sister bonding.

Kalina's on the right, hidden
by a music stand, and in direct
sunlight. But she's there!!!

We were so excited for Kalina's concert for two reasons: the first was that we'd actually get to see her play. The second was because two of us would get to attend in person, with careful covid precautions. Elise and I were the lucky two: Matt and Naomi would watch from home. Additionally, lots of family were able to watch from their own homes, which we think is just an awesome silver lining of this pandemic.

The playing was impressive, and it's clear the conductor was proud of the kids' work. Kalina played well and came out on a cloud of air: "I feel like I could play in orchestra for the rest of my life!" She's already counting the days until the next class, in mid-January. And practicing!

While we wait, we're enjoying playing Christmas music together (with me on piano) and Kalina's working on some new techniques. She's sounding great, too. I'm just so grateful she's found an activity she truly loves, and that the rest of us are enjoying as well!

Thankful for Thanksgiving!

Although Thanksgiving was different this covid year, we could at least recognize the holiday--and for that we're truly thankful. And to be honest, our outdoor Thanksgiving was seriously amazing!

Of course, Thanksgiving is really all about the attitude. Fortunately, our "trying-to-be-positive-no-matter-what-even-if-just-for-the-kids" mindset and our actual circumstances collided in pleasant ways, so that our regular dose of gratitude was only amplified by the uncertainty of it all.

[Note: kids really do have a way of bringing out the best in all of us, if only because if we so much as nudge the complaining train, it caravans into the next continent and no one has a good time for hours afterward.]

The girls did this without my
knowing. Pretty amazing!

Thanksgiving preparations started back in October, with a million little conversations initiated by, "What do you think we should do for Thanksgiving?" I may have spent as much time mulling over plans and possibilities as I did actually celebrating, but I'm accepting this as just part of the holiday this year. And I'm grateful that we were at least faced with real options to mull over. 

Ten days out, we began checking the long-term forecast daily, and this is when we realized that our best option--spending the day outdoors but doing most of our usual stuff--might actually happen. Usually, the forecast reverses itself as the day approaches, but this time it didn't.

I went ahead and purchased a 20-pound bird. (Partly hopeful thinking, and partly because I got a killer deal.)

A big part of our plans this year included a two-week mini-lockdown for everyone planning to attend, so we made our excuses for a few activities, found lots of good reasons for Matt to work from home, and began the process of getting our groceries via pickup, something we hadn't done since spring.

Of these, the shopping was the hardest task. Websites don't usually let you specify, "please choose pears that are mostly ripe, and definitely not rock-hard," or, "please don't tip the fresh pizza on its end." Bummer. And from what I hear, they're letting just anyone teach, nurse, and grocery shop nowadays, so our grocery cart occasionally needed a little in-person editing. But fortunately only a little.

And of course, we did our usual crafts, decorating, story-reading, and all the rest, so we barely missed going out in public. I'm pretty sure several of us would prefer to do all of our holidays this way. And life.

We prepared the girls that things would be a bit different, and they happily rolled with all the arrangements except the ones that included not seeing people they really wanted to see. "Is anyone coming?" they'd wonder, sometimes through a disappointed puppy lip and other times an exasperated eye roll. We made no promises, other than that there would be pie.

But we were able to assure them that Grandpa, Marianne, and Aunt Nancy were doing their very best, and that we were glad everyone else would be safe at home.

We counted the days, each one becoming more hopeful that this might actually happen. We even planned arrival times. That was big.

Cooking Day arrived, and the girls joyfully helped make a double batch of the cranberry sauce they love, as well as a couple desserts. Elise insisted that we were doing cooking class for school, while I was pretty sure we all had the day off. Naomi, the sweetheart, actually asked if we were going to do school on Thanksgiving. The part of me that didn't want to seize the opportunity ("Don't worry, only a little school and then you'll have the rest of the day off!") felt a bit ashamed that she'd even have to ask. At least we're instilling a work ethic.

And pretty soon we were doing all kinds of strange things like setting up the tent for Aunt Nancy, sewing Christmas face masks, collecting firewood and deciding which portion of the yard we'd eat our meal in. Text messages flew. We passed around a thermometer, and when everyone's temperature came out relatively normal (or a bit chilly, in Kalina's case), the countdown began. Aunt Nancy was on her way, and only harrowing holiday traffic and an evening stood between us and our holiday plans. She would arrive after midnight, unless she decided to stop somewhere.

We all felt like we were waiting for Santa--and we might as well have been, looking at the joy on everyone's faces.

I woke up all the time that night, each time wondering if there were a way I could peek out the window to see if her car was in the driveway without waking the cats. There wasn't. 

On Thanksgiving morning, the girls were dressed and out the door lightning fast after I mentioned that, "Aunt Nancy is going to want a fire in a few minutes." And just like that, Thanksgiving was here!

With all of the laughing, catching up, and general silliness. There was less snitcheting of food, and no showing everyone the various pets and all corners of the house (I was good with that). 

Since we were eating outside and downstairs from the kitchen, Kalina made a menu so people could check the boxes for their preferences. This was so fun I would almost do it in a non-Covid year.

Other than eating Thanksgiving dinner, our day consisted of several walks and lots of fire tending, plus masking up for our limited food prep (but at least we had Christmas masks!). And lots of traditions, like:

Takeaway Bingo! With Uncle Tom and Clarissa participating from afar, it was still a great chance to say hello (including to Uncle David, Aunt Debbie, and Kurt and Joy & family) and to keep some of the fun of the day. 

While we were hampered a bit being outside--balancing lots of things on our knees and trying to point a laptop--we muddled through and it seems as though everyone actually ended up with items they wanted. We had forgotten to bring scissors outside, but managed thanks to a potentially 1000+-year-old arrowhead I'd had on hand to be evaluated by Grandpa. Appreciate the help, native Kansan! Your tool has withstood the test of time--something my scissors might not do.

Pie came along with dark, and we noticed that in the encroaching darkness and chill, the party dwindled. Still, there was plenty of time for just chatting around the fire until the last holdouts (Nancy and I) literally did burn every last bit of firewood we could safely stick in the pit. 

The next day we enjoyed more firewood, a raucous game of burrito-throwing (don't worry, the burritos were fake and up to the challenge), and launching rockets into trees (and occasionally not into trees) before pulling out the leftovers.

Short and sweet, but still my favorite holiday.