Young and Old

As stated on previous post, Thomas has orchestra practice every Thursday from 6:30 until 8:30. There are two percussionists, Thomas and his friend, Omid. Omid is Thomas's age and has been appearing on and off again in Thomas's life during the past six or so years. We first ran into him on the AYSO soccer fields when, a very long time ago, Thomas thought he might want to be on a soccer team. Both he and Omid quickly realized that soccer was not for them. [Thomas was actually pretty good at playing soccer; it's the "team" part of it that didn't work.] They have also run into each other at various birthday parties and, now, they have a shared interest in percussing. And I have been slotted into the thankless role of Percussion Roadie, which has me shepherding these two, along with a ridiculous number of percussion instruments, up and down the hallways of the FIM. Last Thursday night we found a note taped to the stage door that said "Percussionists Need: 2 medium timpani, vibraphone, zylophone, chimes, bells, concert bass drum, floor bass drum with foot pedal, snare drum, triangle, hi hat cymbols." What the HELL?!? How could two 10 year old possible play all that? SO, this then means that the three of us have to find all this equipment, which could be in the percussion storage room (locked: therefore needing security guy to let us in) or the two percussion classrooms (both usually occupied by teacher and student practicing--yes, imagine us trying to sneak quietly through a room to get medium timpani or a 6 foot long zylophone--ridiculous!) and of course everything requires a different kind of mallet (all in the storage room locked in a cabinet which requires a key that the security guy doesn't carry but is only carried by teacher busy teaching a lesson). ADD TO ALL THAT, last week there was what is called a "sectional" which is when (in this case) the strings are separated from the winds, brass and percussionists for a super intense practice session. Thomas was thrilled that his bassoon teacher was teaching the winds/brass/percussion sectional in the a smaller practice room--which means that we had to schlep all this equipment to the practice room (occupying most of the room) and, after an hour, schlep it all over to the stage when the two sectionals joined and practiced together. Needless to say, I am EXHAUSTED at the end of Thomas's orchestra practice.

The orchestra kids are, for the most part, very sweet nerds and remind me very much of just the same sort of kids I went to school with who played in such groups. But, just to remind me that I am not part of their world, two had the following coversation during the break:
Trumpet player (rooting through a storage cabinet): "Hey! Look at all these old instruments!" (Both examine cases.) French Horn player responds: "Oooh! Some of these look REALLY OLD! (Finds case with tan leather covering.) THIS one looks like it's from the 80s!!!"

Certainly Part of the Problem

It doesn't take much to keep Thomas interested after 10 p.m. He would rather read old phone books than go to sleep. But this, his latest purchase for himself ("the greatest game system ever invented"--or so Thomas says he read some place once), isn't helping anything. Who could sleep when one can play a Mario game in four formats?
And can any of our faithful readers identify this blast from the past?

A.M. Thomas

To say that Thomas is "not a morning person" falls a long way short of capturing just how foul his mood and sluggish his movements are on school day mornings. (Interestingly, he is quite spry and chipper on weekend mornings.) The fact that he will stay up all hours does not help. (Last night he woke us up out of a very deep sleep when he happily skipped to the loo at around 3:30 a.m.) After he dresses and eats, he quickly nips to the couch to rest for a few precious moments before heading to school. Lately, since our house is BITTERLY cold in the morning, Marth has been lying in wait, ready to pounce on him so she can warm her little, old bones on his young flesh. Here she is, desperately nuzzling him, trying to get him to cuddle her a bit. Thomas feigns sleep, hoping she will settle or go away.

Hell bent on getting warm, she quickly tucks up and settles down for a nice bit of cuddle.

Thomas's latest fashion trend: colorful socks. A few weeks ago he announced that he was SICK AND TIRED of white socks--and NO BORING BLACK OR NAVY SOCKS were good enough, either. So I went on a "cool sock hunt" and found these, among others. No more boring socks for Thomas. What next, thrilling jeans?

Sleepy Daze

The days now are short (in theory they get longer each day but I'm not seeing it) and very cold. And the nights are colder. It's very hard to get out of bed in the morning when you know all you have to look forward to is the drive to work while it's still dark and then a bunch of sleepy dunderheads (and those are my workmates, never mind the students). After work, there is more driving in the cold and dark (why does my car only ever start to warm up just as I pull in to park some place?) and then arriving home to an ever narrowing driveway (as more and more snow gets shoveled off it and piled on the sides, the sides get closer and closer until, as we have now, two narrow icy luge runs we have to fit our car wheels into to slip and slide back down the driveway), a cold dark house and no ideas for dinner.
Here is Frederick in the early evening cuddled up on the couch, reading his favorite books. I don't know if one (or more?) switches finally clicked a few days ago, but suddenly Frederick is a reader. He is brilliant at phonics and can work his way through just about anything he is presented with. One of his favorite activities is to read all the covers of our books. (Just after I took this photo he pointed to a book on the shelf across the room and asked for it. This one? I asked. No. This one, I asked, pointing to another. No. This one? Yes. This went on for quite some time as he assembled a nice murder mystery collection to peruse [Phantom of the Temple, Wash Away This Blood, Quite Ugly One Morning and so on]. Yesterday he invented a game: Think of all the words that begin with the sound of a letter of the alphabet, such as: teapot (T-pot, get it?), zebra, peacock, elbow and so on. He came up with this all on his own and Simon and I had no idea what he was on about. Simon finally cracked the code--isn't he clever!

Join us!

Feeling stuck in the mud?  Wishing you had a little getaway place?  Now you can afford one!

Cross Country Skiing At Last

Simon was getting cranky from being stuck in the house all weekend and kept demanding that we all go sledding together. With the thought of our last family sledding adventure in mind (Thomas and Simon sledding together, hitting a bump, Simon flying off the sled and landing on Thomas, Thomas being dragged face down the rest of the hill by Simon's body...no, never again) I staunchly refused. Fed up with being told that I was a kill joy I reminded him that almost two years had gone by since I got him cross country skiis and he hadn't used them once so today was the day! And, amazingly, he did get them on, as you can see here:

And here he is practicing in the backyard: Amazed that it actually works, he headed off to a nearby park to see what he could do out in the open. Shortly after, he came home even MORE determined that we all go out as a family because, apparently, the park was stuffed with families enjoying the fun of winter. So, my plans dashed, I got out my skis and we got Frederick suited up for sledding. (Thomas, meanwhile, adverse to exertion, stayed upstairs. We pointed out that for the rest of his life he would regret not coming along but surprisingly that didn't persuade him to join us.) And, amazingly, no one was injured. Simon and Frederick went sledding down a giant hill while I skiied around the open expanse at the bottom. We all had a good time, especially Frederick, who seemed to find the image of me on skis particularly hilarious.

More Updates

This is precisely what you would NOT be seeing in our backyard right now.

Thomas announced earlier this week that he was the only student in his class to do math homework over holiday break and therefore was the only student to be promoted up to the next level in math. He was feeling very pleased with himself. Of course I took the moment to point out that, were he to work as hard as he did during break for the next several weeks, he could get promoted up to yet the next level before long. Strangely, that idea didn't appeal at all to him.

At school a while ago older boys were teasing each other about the presence or absence of body/facial hair and Thomas (obviously perplexed by this older boy business) asked me in the car on the way home from school to explain the point of the conversation. In a nutshell I explained that boys are often excited/anxious about growing beards/shaving/getting pubescent and the conversation is a way to ease anxiety. That explanation seemed to satisfy Thomas who views his classmates just as the 19th century European anthropologists viewed newly discovered Pacific Islanders. I asked him then how he felt about getting facial hair. "Are you excited about shaving?" He was quiet a moment and then said, "I don't want a beard. But I AM quite interested in mustaches." I immediately thought of him with a George Harrison-styled mustache (ala Let It Be era). Not bad, actually.

Fish and Various Other Tales

The dark spot up front of the pond is the only opening in the ice for the fish. I think only three remain in there, slipping away from the net every time I get close. Just now, when I took out the compost, I saw two glubbing for air and the minute I looked at them they slipped into the dark waters. Creepy little things. Eventually, I suppose, all but a few inches surrounding the heater will freeze solid and we will be able to catch them then, but until then, they insist on battling the elements.

Last night around 9:00, after Thomas finished playing the piano, he jumped onto my exercise bike and began peddling away like a madman. Thomas has a well-earned reputation of being rather lazy so Simon and I were surprised. I asked him why he was exerting himself at such an hour and he said, "If I am to be a babe magnet, I need to get buff." So true.

The Holidays are Over

Every house should have a knitting granny in it--and we no longer have one. How are we going to survive the rest of winter?
After a 7 day visit, cousin Jimmy returned to Wisconsin this morning. And Thomas is left to face the 76 pages of math homework that he did not get done during the semester. Amazingly, he did finish the work (as of 15 minutes ago) and is now all set for the first day of school tomorrow.

And with expressions not dissimilar to Thomas's above, Simon and I face the prospect of teaching tomorrow. (And a fact that I cannot think about too much, is that I am signed up to teach spring semester, summer semester, fall semester and then the winter semester of 2010. The next time I get a break from teaching will be in 17 months--sniff, I am starting to cry.)