Ode to Joy

Last night was the Spring Concert at Mark's sch ool. I was simultaneously excited and nervous about attending.

Excited because he actually told me about the concert this time. (Unbeknownst to me, he excused himself from the Winter Concert, telling the mu sic tea cher he had soccer practice.)

Nervous because...well, to be honest, because Mark has never practiced his cello at home. Not once. I am not proud of that -- it's just that I p a y for drum lessons, so all music time is spent pounding away on the drums. (He practices those every night.)

But Mark was excited to play his cello, which seems much smaller than it was at the beginning of last year, when we bought it. Either the cello is shrinking, or Mark has grown.

I've been to the symphony a few times before. I know the musicians usually spend the pre-show time warming up and tuning their instruments. Unless, of course, they are third- to fifth-graders. Then they spend their warm up time giggling, slapping hands, and just generally trying to forget they are dressed up in uncomfortable clothes.

But once the concert started, it was down to business. Here is Mark the master cellist at work.




It was hilarious to watch him. He played the exact opposite of the two girls on either side of them. Each time their bows went left, Mark's went right. When his bow went left, theirs went right. Instead of a single, fluid movement of bows, it looked more like a cog, all parts spinning in different directions.

But he sounded great! He was mostly well behaved, although once he spied me in the audience, he made silly faces and rubbed his eyes because he knows that drives me crazy. (He was center-stage, too, which made it worse. I gave him the ol' fingers-to-eyes-to-pointing-at-him "I'm watching you" gesture, and he stopped.) He also stopped once mid-song to remove the giant plastic blue pinky ring he was wearing. I'm guessing not a lot of professional cellists sport giant pinky rings during their performances.

After the fourth- and fifth-graders finished, it was time for the third-graders to strut their stuff. The little kid in front of me had his shirt buttoned up all wrong, and kept tugging at it. And the kid next to him was very serious about playing his violin. Except that he forgot to give himself enough space, and spent most of the time smacking the mis-aligned button boy in the head with his violin bow. I finally had to look away to keep from giggling.

I've gotta give props to their music teacher. She is amazing! There must've been 50 kids on the stage and steps, and they listened to her every word. They went from giggly, silly kids goofing around before to perfect musicians, serious and well-practiced, as soon as as she raised her arms. They watched her intently, most faces studied and familiar with the music, some contorted with confusion or perhaps intense concentration, as they followed her arm movements. But they all played the music in sync, on key, perfectly. It was quite impressive.

Almost as impressive was Mark trying to show off his violin skills. No, he does not have a violin. Instead, he picked up his cello and put it up to his shoulder.

"Look, Mom!" he yelled. "I told you I was the strongest kid in the orchestra! And I have the biggest violin!"

And I just smiled. Because I can dress him up, and put him in the orchestra, but he's still the same ol' crazy Mark.

Chop, chop

How do you know you have the best friends in the world? They leave work early to attend your son's cello recital!

Now that, my friends, is love.

I dropped Mark off backstage last night, where he changed into his dark pants and clean white shirt. The kids were all dressed up, hair slicked back, or filled with ribbons. They stood in a long line to get their instruments tuned. A teacher walked by and told them, "Looking good, smelling good--have fun tonight!"

Edra, Monica and Kathleen--Mark's proud aunties--attended the recital with me. It was packed--seriously mobbed! We arrived in time to snag the few standing-room-only spaces left. I saw Mark scanning the crowd for us, so I waved at him. He kept scanning, so Monica and I both waved, until finally he saw us, waving his cello bow at us.

Boy, were we in for a treat. First we listened to the 4th and 5th graders pluck their violins for about 15 minutes. Then we heard them bow the strings for another 15 minutes.

But the entertainment was also visual. Because seated on the stage steps were about 30 wiggly 3rd grade violinists, patiently waiting for their turn. Well, they were patient for about five minutes. Then they started squirming and whispering, being generally disruptive.

And in front of those 3rd graders, seated on metal folding chairs, were the 3rd grade cellists. Which included my son. Who could probably use a few lessons in concert etiquette.

At first, he, too, was fairly patient. He sat quietly, staring at the crowd, taking it all in. Pretty soon, he realized he was tired, and rested his head on the cello. But that wasn't much fun, so he started rolling his eyes and making faces at the crowd. Who must have responded positively, because he then showed them his cello-twirling abilities.

But my son is a social boy, and quickly tired of the solo performance. He needed some interaction, so he turned in his seat to talk to the violinists on the steps. Who were all trying to be good. And were trying not to respond to Mark. They either ignored him, or goofed around with the neighboring kids.

Which is when Mark realized the benefits of playing cello--the bow is much longer than a violin bow! And can be used to prod other children just out of reach. So he involved himself in the wiggling, squirmy mob by poking kids with his bow.

"Oh my God," Edra said, as she watched Mark. "I am going to go down there and sock him."

Except that the crowd was too thick. So I used my telepathic skills, willing Mark to look up at me, which he finally did.

I pointed two fingers to my eyes, then pointed them at him. From across the auditorium, I mouthed the words, "I'm watching you! BEHAVE!" He stuck his hands out, palms up, and mouthed back, "What?!?!"

But he got the message, and he knew I would stomp downstage and quiet him myself if neccessary. But before I could threaten him any more, the music teacher announced it was the 3rd graders' turn.

The violinists jumped up, and followed the teacher's steps to properly hold their violin. I can't remember all the steps, but they included things like "stop sign" (hold the violin out front), "airplane landing" (put in to your chin), "head flop" (put your chin down on the violin), "helicopter" (wave your bow in the air) and "chop chop" (put bow to instrument). They also demonstrated the "crab pinch" and plucked at their instruments. And of course, we were treated to some magical bowing as well.

My irritation at Mark's squirrelly behavior melted away as soon as he started playing. It was replaced with pride, and I'll admit, I got a little teary watching my little man "chop chop" and play the magical four notes they've practiced. He did so great! He waved his bow in the air, he plucked the strings, he kept his bow straight. He even paid attention! It was awesome.

I couldn't stop beaming. Afterwards, I helped him put the cello away. His aunties were waiting outside for him, and started applauding when he walked outside. He hugged them all and thanked them for coming, then we went to dinner to celebrate.

I love music, and I've been to a lot of concerts in my time. But I have to say, this was one of my all-time favorite performances ever.

Why moms yell, part 2

Tonight is the Winter Recital at Mark's school, which includes performances by the 3rd, 4th and 5th grade strings ensemble. (The violinists and cellists.)

When he handed me the concert flier last week, I asked, "Are you performing?"

He answered, "Yes!"

I asked, "Are you sure?" (He's only had 8 lessons--didn't know he was ready to perform in public!)

Again, he answered, "Yes!"

So, okay. I marked the recital on my calendar.

As we left the house this morning, I asked if he needed the cello.

"No," he said. "It's Tuesday--violin day."

"I know, but aren't you going to practice for the concert? Maybe they're holding cello lessons today, too."

He assured me they were not. I didn't believe him, and asked him three more times. He gave the same answer--no.

And so we walked to school. He was telling me a story about music class when suddenly he turned and said, "Where's my cello? Didn't you bring my cello?"

My inner voice screamed "ACK!!!!!" My hands twisted into lethal weapons, searching for his throat, but I shook off the imminent throttling. I bit my lip, then said, through clenched teeth, "You shed you din needit." (That's how "You said you didn't need it" sounds through clenched teeth.)

"I need it!" he shouted. "I have practice today!"

No kidding, I thought. That's why I asked you 10 times. But what I said was, "Fine. I'll drive it to school. If you are out front, I will give it to you. If you are not, I will drive on to work. Do you understand?"

He nodded yes. I headed back to the crosswalk, where the crossing guard said, "Wow, that was too fast! How'd you get back here so quick?"

"I didn't make it to school," I said. "I'm on cello-delivery duty." She laughed.

I dropped off the cello, and to his credit, Mark was waiting in front of the school for it. (He knows I'd have driven off to work with it!) I'm glad he was there, because honestly, I can't wait to hear the recital. I can't wait to see my little Yo-Yo Ma(n) in action!

Cello, I love you, won't you tell me your name?

I usually know which things Mark will love immediately... a new Pokémon book, anything Gameboy related, Star Wars tattoos, donuts, his drum set, just to name a few. But sometimes he surprises me.

This week had one of those surprises. He LOVES his new cello! He played it a few times, even though it's not the most intuitive instrument. On Wednesday, he asked what day it was. When I told him, he counted out two fingers and then pumped his fist into the air, yelling, "YES! Only two more days till cello lessons!"

So today, Friday, was finally the big day. I reached for the cello, figuring I'd wheel it to school (the case is as big as he is!), but he beat me to it. "I'll pull it," he said, not offering so much as insisting.

"Are you sure?" I asked. There are a lot of curbs and bumpy sidewalks between home and school.

"I'm sure," he said, and before I could argue any more, he was out the door.

And pull it he did. He walked it carefully across the street, making sure not to tip it over. When we came to the first curb, he again refused my help, lifting it down the curb gently, and carrying it across the street. He avoided every puddle (a first) and didn't even run off toward the playground when I left him in front of the school.

He told me how many kids in his class signed up for cello vs. violin--exactly four. He was proud to be part of such a small group. "Everyone else picked the violin," he said, smirking, as though he couldn't believe anybody would ever make such a crazy choice.

I know it's all part of the "I-have-a-new-toy" syndrome, where he lavishes attention on his newest acquisition. He's already tried cleaning it, like he does with everything he loves, including his drum cymbals. (And I gave him the same talk I did after discovering the tell-tale whitish rings on the cymbals--NO WATER ALLOWED! Water and wood, like water and metal, do not mix.)

He'll probably tire of it after a few weeks lugging that big case to school. But until then, it's pretty sweet to watch...

You had me at "cello"

So we have another new musical instrument in the house...in addition to the new drum set, we now have a cello!

Mark's school offers music lessons. He brought home a sign-up sheet, saying that third-graders could choose either violin or cello.

I figured he'd pick the violin, but what do I know? He wanted to play cello.

"Do you even know what a cello is?" I asked, and he nodded.

"It's like a big violin," he said. "I saw a girl carrying one--if she can carry it, I can TOTALLY carry a bigger one!"

And this is how we make decisions in our house--competitively. This, from the boy who whines about carrying his backpack into the house because it's too heavy.

"I know you can carry a cello," I said. "But will you carry the cello? From home to school? From class to music class? From class to after school care?"

"Yes!" he screamed. "I want to play the cello!"

I gave him a final chance. "Let's make a pro and con list for each instrument."

For the violin, the list looked like this:

• Pro: It's smaller, and easier to carry.
• Con: It's smaller, and easier to lose. (The kid lost his lunch box the first week of school, and his backpack and second lunch box the next week--so yes, losing things is ALWAYS a consideration!)

For the cello:

• Pro: It's bigger, and harder to lose.
• Con: It's bigger, and harder to carry.

You can guess from the picture above which instrument won.

I figured I'd just rent a cello, but when I called the music store, they gave me some alarming news. I could rent a cello for $50 a month, and apply that money toward purchasing the cello. That was the good news. The bad news was that the cello cost $1000, and they wanted me to give it to an 8-year-old to lug across the playground.

Did I mention he lost his lunchboxes and backpack already?? No WAY I'm giving that kid a $1000 instrument to lose somewhere between here and school!!

So it was on to Plan B. We drove to a music store and purchased a cello. It was only $200--I figured at that rate, if he loses or breaks it, I'm still ahead financially.

It's probably not the best quality cello, but after listening to him play for 10 minutes, I couldn't tell the difference. A high-quality cello in the hands of an 8-year-old probably sounds just as bad as an inexpensive one.

I knew I'd made the right decision when he started wheeling it around the dining room like he was walking a dog. "Look at me, mom!" he laughed, and as I turned to watch him, he lost his grip and sent the case crashing to the floor.

My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I saw all the fun times I could've had for $1000 flash before my eyes. But then, as Mark reported the cello was fine, I took a deep breath, and congratulated myself on making a smart investment.