Blissfully Optimistic

Yesterday, Photoguy and I celebrated our nine-year-anniversary. Well, we didn't so much celebrate it, yet. We came to the day that marked one year shy of a decade since we were married, but we will have to truly mark the occasion at a later date because yesterday we were too busy.

For one thing, Photoguy started teaching a photo class at a University on Wednesday nights. For another, Wednesdays have turned into my taxi days. Here is an example of what I mean:

Typical Wednesday
5:45 a.m. drive to gym
7:15 a.m. drive home
8 - 8:30 a.m. drive Soph's carpool
9:30 a.m. drive E-Man to pre-school
10 a.m. drive AiAi to mommy-and-me gymnastics
10:45 a.m. drive home
11:30 a.m. drive to pick E-Man up from school

short interlude for lunch

1-1:30 p.m. pick up Soph's carpool
2 p.m. pick up friend's kid from piano lesson

Then, I should theoretically have the afternoon off from driving, but usually don't, before we get to the evening activities.

6 p.m. drive Soph to piano lesson
6:30 p.m. pick Soph up
7 p.m. take kids to gymnastics
8 p.m. pick kids up

For full disclosure sake, I must admit that a friend and I just started carpooling for gymnastics -- I drive the kids there and she picks them up. Which is a really good thing because my 2 1/2 year-old AiAi is determined to give up his much needed afternoon nap. So, by the time I drive the kids to gymnastics, he is passed out for the night (I'm also on my way to passing out for the night). Not having to go out one more time at 8 p.m. is like a Christmas gift every Wednesday night!

I use to stay with the kids during gymnastics, but, one would have to witness it personally to fully understand the excessive amount of strength and energy required to keep up with my rambunctious and overly determined AiAi in a mine field like a huge open space filled with gymnastic equipment, pits of foam and things that bounce. It was fun to see him enjoying himself, but when he would be involved in an activity (say jumping on a trampoline) and we would need to exit so a class could enter, it resulted in a lot of tears (mostly his) and kicks (mostly to my face), and, let's just say, in the end it was better to stop taking AiAi inside at all.

So, this is my regular schedule on Wednesdays. However, it is almost never confined just to the dozen excursions listed.

For example, last Wednesday, Soph had to do a science project. Right after school, she and photoguy lit up a fire in the backyard for said project requiring me to make a last-minute jaunt to the grocery store to buy marshmallows for roasting.

After finishing up the project in the freezing frost-biting unbelievably arctic frigid cold, Photoguy took off early for his evening class and I was left to entertain six kids. I babysit for a friend whose kids are the same ages as mine. Yes, that means I regularly have two two-year-olds. But, it's not nearly as complicated as when those two were newborns and five of the six kids were pre-Kindergarten ages. Hauling all six kids to swimming lessons or a picnic in the park when all were so young is another story about feats of strength for another time.

After my friend retrieved her three kids, I and my three piled into the car to drop off film at a one-hour lab (for the science project display), then headed to Costco for toilet paper, then picked up our photos, then plunged right into our nightly driving routine. Whew!

It was apparent in advance that Wednesday was not the best day for our anniversary to take place this year. This whole week turned out to be pretty bad timing. Photoguy took some extra shifts at the newspaper this week meaning he committed himself to 10-12 hours of work Tues-Sat (afternoons-midnight). Then, after he made that commitment, he was given an emergency remodel job of sorts on a condo that he and a friend are flipping, that must be completed by next Monday. The good news is, if he can just get it done in time, we have a buyer. Hooray for money! Even if it is money earmarked to pay bills -- still, hooray.

I am confident that we will find the time sometime to go to a nice dinner or otherwise celebrate our marriage. In the meantime, the anniversary got me thinking about anniversaries past.

First, there was the day we were married, full of bliss and naive optimism for the future.

We took a fabulous honeymoon to Southern California and I (naively optimistic) believed that we would take the more expensive tropical cruise for our one-year-anniversary. Ha-ha! Right before our one-year-anniversary we bought our first house. So much for thinking we were broke when we got married. As new homeowners mired in years of re-modeling projects we become more intimately acquainted with the term "broke."

Let's see, I was hugely 8-months pregnant with our first baby for our two-year-anniversary.

When we married, I had also believed that I would get a second band of diamonds to compliment my wedding ring for something as big and important as our five-year-anniversary. This too brought me a good laugh when the actual time came.

Two-and-a-half years ago, our third child was born. This made me feel very grown-up and grounded or established or something other than youthful. Six months later, we celebrated our seven-year-anniversary and I had to come to terms with the fact that I was definitely no longer a newly wed. Funny that before I was married, anyone hitched for more than a year was out of that category, but it took me seven years to stop seeing myself that way.

Right after the mind-boggling seven-year-anniversary, I made the difficult transition to thirty. All that year, I was also coming to grips with the fact that my oldest was slated to begin Kindergarten the following year. Where had time gone? I responded to all of this growing up trauma by moving our family to China. Okay, not really, but it may have somehow played into our mid-life crisis, I mean, decision.

So, now, I find myself married for nine years, too busy to even go out to dinner, or lunch, or even save the date for the weekend. Do you think it is unrealistic to believe we'll be going on the cruise for our ten-year?

Notes and Numbers

E-Man has been amazing me with his "math mind" for years now. Once, when he was only three years old, he was jumping off the side of a pool into my arms and it was almost time to leave. "Just two more jumps," I called to him. He promptly replied, "I already jumped three times, so two more times is five."

A few months ago at dinner, he turned to me out of the blue and said, "There are 100 ones in 100 . . . and ten tens." Less than a month after his 5th birthday, he counted to 750 while we were in the car on a long drive. I could tell he could have kept going forever, but we had to make him stop. While it was remarkable, that can also be annoying.

It's like he just can't turn the numbers off. They are always whizzing around in his mind, rearranging into different orders, and revealing themselves to him in new ways. Neither Photoguy or I can take credit for this. We are more creatively inclined. It's rapidly becoming apparent that E-Man will be passing us up in his math skills (and no doubt other areas of intellect) in a few short years.

He understands the names and values of the coins in his piggy bank and loves to count his money. I'll also find him looking over my shoulder at sale ads and saying things like, "That says 10 for $10 so they are $1 each."

I've always heard it said that music and math are related, and now I know it must be true because this little math-minded son of mine is already learning to read music and play the piano.

Rewind to last year, when Soph was in Kindergarten and I signed her up for piano lessons. Her teacher is popular so she usually has a waiting list. One day, I mentioned that I wanted to get E-Man started in piano when he started Kindergarten too. She responded that she does not enroll boys until the second grade because it is too hard for them to concentrate and get their fingers to respond appropriately as they look at the music.

I thought this seemed a bit strange to glob "all boys" and "all girls" together. It would seem that while this may be the general rule, that "some girls" might not be ready for piano until the second grade and "some boys" might be ready for piano by Kindergarten or even before. After arguing that my son was not the typical rough and tumble kind of boy, that he was more serious minded and able to concentrate, I finally conceded to her superior knowledge as a piano teacher and accepted what she said.

Then, a few months ago, Soph finished her first piano books. Moving on to her second set of books, she took it upon herself to become E-Man's piano teacher. She set him up with her first books and began teaching him the difference between the white keys and black keys, followed by the names of all the white keys and so on and so forth. In no time, he was reading the music and plunking out tunes. I have never once asked him to practice. He just loves to sit down and play things over and over and look ahead in the book to learn more. By the time he was halfway through the book, I was feeling, pleased as punch about his talent (not to mention all that money saved on lessons he wouldn't have to take). At the same time, I'm a bit nervous that he may be learning bad habits that he will have to later unlearn. Photoguy and I are not piano players ourselves. So here we have our barely five-year-old being self-taught and encouraged by his six-year-old sister. It seems that I may want an actual teacher to intervene before he enters the second grade 2 1/2 years from now.

A few weeks ago, I approached Soph's teacher and I was disappointed by her response. After her initial "he can't" attitude, she now responded to what I was telling her with, "Well, he will surely burn right out if he has to start piano lessons so young." I'm feeling pretty unhappy about this and wondering if it is time to shop around for a new teacher even though my daughter loves her.

I find myself sometimes wondering if the E-Man is just picking out familiar tunes, but, every now and then I will sit down and show him a song he's never seen before and he will play it perfectly. I can see his math mind at work as he diligently claps out the counts of the notes over and over. Yesterday, he played a warm-up song over and over. It got into my head and I started to hum after he had stopped.

"Mom, that isn't what I was playing," he said. "I was playing C,D,E,F,G,G,G-G,F,E,D,C not C,D,E,F,G,G,G-G,F,E,D,C,C,C." He was right.

Gonna be alright.

I'm a bit of a worrier. One morning last week, before I was even fully awake, I was thinking about my day. "How will I drive the carpool this afternoon? I only have enough seat belts for my three kids plus the three carpool kids (and, myself - seven - not too bad). But, I told my friend I will keep her four-year-old while she gets her hair cut. Can Photoguy take a late lunch to stay home with the boys? Better not count on it. Do I dare to double buckle the smallest kids? No, definitely too far of a drive to double buckle. Will one of the girls in the carpool stay after school for the school newspaper? It is Wednesday. Will one of the boys stay after for his guitar lesson? Those are sporadic. What if I plan that the girl will stay after for the newspaper and then the meeting gets canceled? Then, what? Do I double buckle then?"

This is an example of how my thoughts tend to go on a regular basis. Scary, I know. I recently read that worry is like a spasm of the brain, you just keep circling around your thoughts this way. Too much and maybe your brain will start to circle the drain. As my brain was thus "spasming" a new thought entered my head. "Everything will work out, because, everything always does work out."

A relaxed feeling took over as this became my mantra for the day.

"Everything will work out." My husband, Photoguy, and some of my closest friends seem to have perfected this mode of thought. "Everything will work out." Photoguy has been exploring different career options for over three years now. Sometimes the financial uncertainty is overwhelming, especially for a worrying gal like me. But, somehow, someway, things have always worked out. Sometimes just in the nick of time, but, hey, I even have one of those snazzy Odysseys with seven seat belts, what do I have to worry about?

Last year, when our family lived in China for 6 months, I got into the habit of sending out very long e-mails detailing our adventures. One of my brother-in-laws suggested I start a blog. I was very wary of this idea. "What if someone gets my personal information? What if some psycho identifies my family? Is it safe? And . . ." Need I say more?

The fact is, I like to type much more than I like to write things out long hand. So, after months of enjoying others' blogs, I've decided to finally put my own out there. Mostly to take the place of my journal. In college I filled about one journal per year. Sometimes more. I liked to have the front cover engraved with the year or a title reflecting a big event from that year. When, my first was born nearly seven years ago, I bought a new journal and entitled it "Soph's First Year." It's only about half full and packed away somewhere in the garage at the moment. I guess I would have been more accurate calling it "Soph's First Decade" or "Infancy thru College." At last, I have a way to document all those moments I always feel I will never forget but that fade all too quickly. Everything will work out. I just know it will.