Another Blogger in the Family

Thomas is still in school for another week yet he's already bored. ("I'm BORED!!!"" was repeated over and over and OVER this last weekend. Given that both Simon and I will be teaching NON-STOP for the rest of our lives, things are only going to get worse.) We went through our usual litany, "Do your home work." No dice. "Practice an instrument." Later. "Clean your room." No answer. "Write a story/Paint a picture/Draw something." Indistinct groans. Finally, we suggested that he make a blog. For whatever reason, that seemed to spark an interest. He writes brilliantly funny vocabularly sentences all year long so I hope, if he does stick with this during this long and painfully boring summer, that side shows up. Here it is:

www.PokePhotos.blogspot.com

How high's the water, mama?

(For those who are unaware, the title is a reference to a Johnny Cash song.)

Here's the water at a park near Ann Arbor that Frederick and I have stopped off at the past couple of trips to music (according to a man we bumped into, he's never seen it up over the walkway before):



And here's the water on Dort, making it impossible to get on the freeway near our house:


The above photo was taken today and results from a flash flood we got last night. Here's the tornado alert siren going off:



Maybe it truly is the end times. But thanks to some inspired dirt-heaping around the house by Jami (at which, I must confess, I scoffed inwardly), nary a drop has entered the basement since the flood a week or so ago. So miracles in the end times too!

Phew!

On Saturday, May 14th, Thomas had his auditions for Wind Ensemble (for bassoon) and Flint Youth Symphony (for percussion). A week before the auditions, he was not in the least bit nervous about either because Wind Ensemble is the same group he was in this past year so he was confident he would get in again and, although the Flint Youth Symphony is "the big kids" (16-18 year olds), his percussion teacher assured him his percussion skills are good enough that he would easily get in the group.

Well, let's just say that on the morning of the auditions, this confidence had faded away to a thin whisp of nothing. Then by the time Thomas and I had pulled into the FIM parking lot, Thomas looked like he had had a blood letting. After I had filled out the forms for the auditions (everyone think of the movie "Fame" but without dancers flitting about the hallways) Thomas was on the verge of puking in the hallways. I had to drag him into the "warm up room," sit him in a chair and fan him with his music. He sat there, staring dully, chanting, "I can't do this. I can't do this." I thought about scenes from various Humphrey Bogart movies but I seriously doubt Thomas would say, "Thanks, I needed that," if I gave him a good slapping so I refrained. I tried telling him jokes, self-deprecating stories; I even made fun of the other kids. I told him to run around in the hallways to get his mind off his misery but he just sat there, hyperventilating. Then, about two minutes before his audition, he actually got up and started bolting toward the door! Finally they called his name and it was like watching him walk toward his own execution--the fight went out of him and he allowed himself to be led away. Fifteen or twenty minutes later he came back, red-faced and teary-eyed and said, 'Well, that's that. There's no chance I'll get in Wind Ensemble now." He then had 30 minutes to put on his "game face" to prep for his "sure thing," the percussion audition. Finally, finally they called him for THAT and when that was over, sure enough, he came back from that, red-faced and teary-eyed, miserable because one of the judges had asked him to "play a 3rd." Panic-stricken, he blanked-out and said he didn't know what that was. Later, of course, he realized what it was all about but it was TOO LATE...all too late. Later, as he lay, sobbing on our bed, telling us how much money we had wasted ALL THOSE YEARS on percussion and bassoon lessons for NOTHING because there was NO WAY he was going to get in ANYWHERE, ANYTIME, ANYHOW, he just KNEW IT. There was NO POINT to taking ANYMORE MUSIC LESSONS EVER AGAIN. He was NEVER GOING TO PLAY ANOTHER MUSICAL INSTRUMENT AGAIN...EVER. Do you HEAR ME??? NEVER!!!! And when those letters come in the mail and say, that he did NOT GET IN, do you know what he's going do DO? He's going to LAUGH! THAT'S RIGHT, LAUGH!! and say, "I TOLD YOU I WOULDN'T GET IN!"

Actually, he did go to his percussion and bassoon lessons on Monday, and while there I happened to mention to each of his teachers that Thomas found the auditions "just a bit stressful." (Thomas was hanging up his coat when I said that to his percussion teacher and snorted derisively and said, "I did NOT! Now go on! Rob [his teacher] has more important things to do than listen to your nonsense!") Dean, his bassoon teacher, praised Thomas to the skies for surviving auditions as, apparently, most of his students were too scared to audition this year. Silly, very silly.

ANYWAY: We are glad we made it through that weekend, and we are very glad that Thomas is in those damn groups! (One reason being is that the Flint Youth Symphony has its exchange trip to France next year and Thomas is VERY excited about going there!! Good thing Thomas is keeping up with his French studies--Oui!! Oui!!)

We love Seven Lakes Park in the Springtime...

Gorgeous weather this weekend...

Frederick knows his notes

Simon took Frederick to music for the first time in ages, since I had a meeting, and was able to film this small slice of an otherwise 45 minute class. This is a small bit of a 10 minute or so chime session. It begins with Mike getting out a suitcase of chimes and, first, holds the case open so Frederick can't see what which chimes they are and rings one at a time and Fredrick has to name them. (Frederick always says, "No peeking!") If he's paying attention, he gets them all but he does have a habit of getting distracted with the chimes he has already named. His success rate is about 85-90%. Then Mike plays notes or chords on the electric piano. Here I see he is playing short rhythms that Frederick has to mimic. The point is three-fold: Frederick has to, again, listen to which notes Mike is playing (Mike will be standing in front of the keys so Frederick can't see them) and so has to listen to which note is being played and identify it); he has to play the rhythm correctly; and he has to get the beat correct. Apparently it's not possible that Frederick have these skills (I'm not sure why--abusive studies done to autistic kids locked in total institutions during in the 50's allegedly proved it), but clearly he does.

Art Night

We've shipped Thomas off to Indianapolis on a music trip (he took along his Pokemon cards for swapping, and his video camera and props for more Yoshi videos) but we still can't avoid Annual Art Night at Valley School, as we have TWO children contributing. First Frederick's work:





Then Thomas's work:

The End Times

Well, as the apocalypse will be upon us very shortly, I suppose it's not surprising that we're experiencing floods.


...and it's all been leaking into the basement:


(but don't worry Grandparents, we'll have it pumped dry in no time!)

Seven Lakes Park in the Spring

First a walk in the woods:

Then a quick dip:

Strange doings by the door

Frederick is 8!!!

Another birthday! Since technically today is Frederick's birthday and today is a boring school day for all but Simon, we decided to celebrate Frederick's day yesterday when we could enjoy the entire day by relaxing in our own backyard which is what we all like to do best.

Frederick gives the 8 candles a mighty blast and, with the encouragements of Thomas and Grandma, blows them out. (He's not telling us what--if anything--he wished for.)

Recently we heard rumors that Frederick likes to shop at Pier 1 Imports with Emily (what DO they get up to together!?!), in particular, he liked to sit in a swing chair. Simon and I went back and forth about getting him this chair for a birthday present (it wasn't cheap) but we knew he would love it forever so... (Though we didn't realized that some fatso would break the only one in the nearby Pier 1 and Simon would have to drive like a man possessed in The Midnight Hour to the far corners of civilization to try and find one that not only was neither broken our from overweight customers but also had all the hardware for hanging from the frame. Why is life SO HARD?) We put his other presents in it and covered it with a sheet. After the candles were blown out, cake was eaten and Happy Birthday was sung (many, MANY times....) we headed to the garage.... Frederick seemed a bit confused. "Why is the Pier I Imports chair in our garage? That's just silly."
We moved it into the backyard, where it was nice and sunny (Simon even got a bit of a sunburn!) and Frederick opened the rest of his presents. Thomas supervised, just in case Frederick failed to understand some subtlety. (Or, in case he slipped out of the chair and Thomas could get a chance to swing in it for a bit. Which he did not.)
Here Frederick opens a new dvd called Monster Hits, which is from Thomas. He loves it.
Frederick models a new t-shirt from Emily (which features a guitar, a favorite theme) a tries out the new stilt walkers, which he thinks are pretty cool. He's actually pretty good at them. And unlike the stilt-walkers that were sold by Ronco for only $9.99 when I was a kid ("But wait--there's more!"), these things actually work!
A scooter-like device came just before his birthday, too. Frederick will be giving that a whirl as well, shortly too. We'll include photographic evidence of that soon.

Showcase 2011

The Showcase is, well, pretty much what the title says: The Flint Institute of Music showcases all their students and they really do it in style. They rent The Whiting, a HUGE concert hall in Flint and the student ensemble groups put on their best performances. Fortunately, after months of practicing, it is the LAST performance--after all the drama, we parents need many weeks off.

Although the concert started at 3:00, I had to drop Thomas off at 1:00. He was cool on the outside but I could tell he was nervous because he hadn't eaten anything yet that day (claiming he was "just not hungry") and went flying out my car before I had completely stopped moving. We don't go in the front, like mere mortals, but in the back, like rock stars and Jerry Seinfeld (who was here a few weeks ago):

What a hideous entrance. Is this really how the rich and famous live?
On stage the crew busily sets up stands, the dance floor and instruments for hundreds of kids. The house is still empty.
That's Thomas in the black jacket way at the back behind the bass drum, Omid and Keegan are his fellow percussionists setting up the other percussion instruments. Thomas just about needs all of the two hours to help set up all the percussion instruments, his bassoon, and get completely set up for the show.
And here's the concert itself. (Or, at least, the parts of it that featured Thomas. We cut out the ballet and whatnot.)

[NOTE: See if you can find the very subtle gesture of Thomas's when he indicates to Omid during the piece with the orchestra and chorus that Omid came in one measure too soon with the cymbol crash. Fortunately Thomas and Omid have a LONG and stable friendship...]

It was a stressful and exhausting concert but Thomas was (if we say so ourselves) a star of the show. People I have never met before in my life have been coming up to me since at work and elsewhere and telling me that they thought he was astonishing. One woman remembers him from when he was in Alpha Montessori pre-school. She claims she thought he was "something special" then (those are always ominous words) but seemed genuinely thrilled to see him playing bassoon. I could not give her a name to save my life; and how anyone can remember him from preschool, let alone recognize him underneath all that hair is beyond me BUT there you go--Thomas was a hit.

It took a toll, though. He was struck down with a Rousseauian-like fever and had to spend the next three days at home in bed. He was only today able to get back to school. The world craves Thomas, but can he live up to its demands?