Leaving Oz

Sound Sampler Strife

Earlier this summer, I took my younger son Nick to a music class to settle an ongoing argument we’ve been having over what instrument he might want to learn.

When they were young, I coerced both my boys into taking piano lessons. Erik stuck with it for 5 years, even though the last 3 years were sheer torture with daily tantrums and tears during practice time.  Once Erik took up a band instrument (clarinet in 5th grade, then switching to alto saxophone in 6th grade), I released us both from the Piano Wars.  But we both still have battle scars from them.

Nick has taken 2 ½ years of piano and I’ve already incurred more casualties with him than with the first son. I’m ready to transition him onto another instrument NOW.  I found a great book from the library about how to pick the right instrument based on your child’s natural temperament, titled Musical Instruments for Children:  Choosing What's Right for Your Child by Richard Crozier.  I found it highly insightful and much of the author’s assessments, while generalizations, do have some basis in truth from my own musical experience.  So, from studying this book cover to cover, I am thinking that either 1) flute or 2) drums would be a good fit for Nick. 

Mom Goes to a Sporting Event

My husband takes our boys to every San Jose Earthquakes soccer home game. The boys love the noise, the flags, the off-color cheers, the stadium food and gigantic sodas – as well as watching the game, of course. 

Last night, I decided to join them since my younger son was going to get to walk around the field just before the game started, for AYSO Summer Camp graduation.  And when the boys found out I was coming, they panicked.    “What?  Why is Mom coming?  Uh oh...” was their general reaction.

Okay, I expected this, since Mom is synonymous with being told what not to do, what dangers to avoid, and how to behave properly.  In other words, Mom is no fun! 

Even my husband was aware that the evening might be a little more stressful than usual due to potential conflicts that would emerge between the boys and me.  I assured him that I was going to do my hardest to just be a fly on the wall, to not say anything, and to just tag along and not cause trouble.

Free the Captive?

Mom, I HATE this camp.  I want to quit!” fumed my 13-year-old son Erik when I picked him up after his first day of Computer Music camp.   

I signed him up for this camp because Erik is addicted to computers and video games and is used to being bathed in computer-screen radiation.  He also hates being exposed to the elements and doing anything that requires unnecessary physical exertion.  And because of the computers, I figured it would be indoors and air-conditioned – his preferred habitat.  He’s also talented at music, so it seemed like a good idea to give him a chance to try putting computers and music together.  But it obviously wasn't working out for him.

The next morning, I spoke with the instructor to see if he would be willing to spend a little more time with Erik since he was a beginner.  The instructor assured me that he would and then divulged that the first day they had encountered numerous computer problems which made the day more chaotic than it should have been.  I left feeling hopeful that the second day would go better.

But it didn’t.  If anything, it got worse.  My husband and I now faced a parenting dilemma:  Do we let Erik quit, or force him to continue to go, subjecting him to several hours a day of torture for the rest of the week? 

After the Last Child, It’s Time For a Puppy…Or Two

When my kids were very young, the thought of having to keep one more thing alive made me cringe.  Our garden died.  Any plant that was given to me as a gift died.   If it weren’t for my husband and the gardening service, the lawn would have died too.  I could barely take time to go to the bathroom when I needed to, so there was absolutely no way that anything that could be considered a “pet” was going to enter this home.  Ever. 

Until my youngest son turned 6.  My baby, who had been previously happy to cuddle and hug, was growing up.  I’d have to catch him as he ran by for a quick hug and often I’d end up hugging his back as he’d be ready to run away, off to the next thing. So it was around that time I was struck with this idea:  I had to have a puppy. I just had to.  It consumed my every waking thought.  A soft, wonderful, fluffy puppy, like the one I used to have when I was a little girl. 

I know most kids go through an “I want a pet” phase, but I had been so adamant and belligerent about “no more living things in the house” that my kids actually gave up.  I knew that there was no way they would take care of a pet once the excitement wore off, no matter how much they claimed they would be responsible for it.  They knew Mom was impervious. So what the heck happened?   Hormones.  It was a completely illogical, hormonally driven desire and decision.  It is the only reasonable explanation.  I even came across an article in Prevention Magazine about how many women feel calmer and more peaceful when they are nurturing – it gets the hormone oxytocin flowing and pretty soon, we are in the zone.

So why not consider having a third child? 

My Seventh Grade Son and...Sex?

“Mom, we saw the video today.”

“What video?”

“You know.  THE video.  Human reproduction!”

Whaaaa?  How come I wasn’t told about this?  My son Erik is in 7th grade at a public middle school.  I thought they saved the Sex Unit until 8th grade.  I really did.

“Mom, you signed my weekly science form, remember?”

The teacher sends home a weekly science form with a description of what the kids are learning and the homework for the week – and I have been faithfully signing it since last September.   In the beginning of the year, I read it carefully.  Then I started quickly perusing it.  Then, I admit, I kind of stopped reading it – especially if I was in the middle of doing something, like cooking dinner, when my son would ask me to sign it.  I dug back into the recesses of my mind. Ah, I then remembered actually being asleep on the living room couch one afternoon when he thrust a pencil into my hand and asked me to sign his weekly science form.  My bad.

My son went into great detail about what they saw in the film.   “Yeah, Mom, they showed, like, the male and female parts together inside, and things were moving and stuff.”  He told me another kid whispered to him, “Whoa, I can’t believe they’re showing the yin-yang in the wha-hoo!”  For once, I was speechless.