Orchestra

The 8th/9th grade orchestra, known on the world's most illustrious stages (of maybe just the Davis High auditorium) as Concert Orchestra, played wonderfully last week. Most of the family managed to attend, even if we all had to leave midway through for Nutcracker and bedtime and such. Araceli and Freestone wanted to stay, and had to anyway, for their grade. The Whites brought them home via Fiiz for a post-concert treat.

Ah, life is good!

What We're Learning

Trying to pinpoint exactly what level of involvement to have in your child's academic life is daunting.  I have found a balance that I like, for the most part.  I'm sure you're dying to know what I claim to have figured out.

Lucky you, I'm about to tell you!  It's the end of the term, and we're all scrambling.  It IS important to not interfere as a parent and try to unilaterally remedy a situation that your child clearly screwed up.  My mom had a student in her Honors English class that earned an A-.  Her dad badgered my mom ruthlessly, pleading, cajoling, guilting, threatening, accusing.  His daughter had a 4.0 and he wanted to keep it that way, even though his daughter had earned an A-.  He didn't care what he had to do, he wanted the A.  My mom finally emailed back, "No.  There are things more important than a 4.0.  Like INTEGRITY!"  I try to keep that in mind.  I don't want to be the overzealous parent that crosses that line.  In fact, I'm almost completely out of the picture by high school, because my kids have learned the ropes by then.  They know what their parents expect, what they expect of themselves, and what they're capable of.

But I'm also not a laissez-faire parent.  I think it's far more important to teach your child ways to succeed rather than smugly sit back and think you're giving him this big, important life lesson by letting him struggle upstream, ignorant of ways to gain success.  For example, I made it clear to Freestone that we expected an A in Utah Studies, because the teacher lets you retake quizzes until you get an A, so there's no excuse not to. Freestone had an A- the day before end of term. I advised him to email the teacher, ask him about retaking a quiz that had a low score, and going in to retake the quiz.  He did, and now he has an A.  The thing about letting him "fail" is that he would have been fine with an A-.  Working for the A instead taught him he could do a little better.  Sometimes we equate laziness in kids for failure, when the real failure is that parents haven't taught the kid not to be lazy.  It's not necessarily about the grade, it's about doing your best, and it takes a lot of finesse and involvement to know what your child's best is.  When I go through my kids' grades with them, I ask, "What can you do to get this grade up?"  If the answer is nothing, then OK.  If there is something they can do, THEY do it.  I don't usually contact my kids' teachers after 7th grade.  However, I do teach the kids how to respectfully interact with their teachers for the best outcome, apologizing for their failures, asking nicely for help and thanking the teacher for their hard work.

I asked Ruby about "letting them fail" in jr, high and whether she thought that was the way to go.  She said scornfully, "What, just not helping them when they're still not fully developed, and don't have a clue what's going on, and having them have to live with the consequences all through high school?"

I have heard the claim that it's better to let them fail "now when the stakes are low" than later in life.  I fully reject that idea!  The stakes when they're young, especially in jr. high, are extremely high!  Yes, if they do fail, then sometimes that failure comes with a life lesson, but I never want that life lesson to be, "My parents sat back and didn't help me." These kids are developing a work ethic, a sense of self worth, a concept of family and community, and defining their place academically.  If they look at themselves as a person who gets good grades, works hard, and has a family who has their back, they are going to be much better-equipped to go into the world.  If my child left her homework on the kitchen counter and I reacted with, "Well, that's just too bad.  You have to learn to fail," not only would their grade suffer, but they would "learn" that they don't have anyone they can rely on for backup.  Life isn't like that.  We all have backup.  We all ARE backup.  Failure will come in life, regardless of whether we "learned to fail."  How about if we "learn to succeed" and "help each other succeed" and then learn to accept defeat gracefully when it comes, after all we can do?  Is Golda at college paralyzed with inability because her parents helped her in junior high?  No.

So when a kid leaves an assignment for the last night, you'll never hear me say, "Too bad.  You should have planned better. Maybe you'll learn your lesson."  Isn't that just an excuse for not completing the work?  Instead, you'll probably hear me say, "Get the paper.  Let's see what you have to do.  You're going to be up suuuper late."  Chances are, I'll be up late too, teaching my child that sometimes you mess up, you don't plan ahead, your organization skills are underdeveloped, you ran out of time. Well, you're still accountable.  And that's OK, because your mom knows that in life, there are second chances.  And Moms.  And Coke.  

Taco Soup "Recipe" for Catherine

Here you go, Catherine!  Real foodies will cringe at my haphazard mixing of seasonings, but there's literally no way to mess this up.  Just throw it all in the crock pot.

Brown/cook the ground beef with onions, garlic, maybe celery and carrots and taco seasoning or a curry.  I usually use an Iraqi curry that I'm not sure what it has in it, but I love curries.

Use a carton or two of pumpkin or butternut squash soup for the base.  I don't know what brand, but I got it on the organic foods aisle.  It has a little nutmeggy quality that is delicious.

Add diced tomatoes or salsa, kidney beans, rinsed black beans (so the murky color doesn't ruin the soup), navy beans...really whatever beans you want.  And a bag of frozen corn, and sometimes I buy a bag of frozen, diced butternut squash or something like that, too.

Serve with sour cream and a squirt of sriracha mayo on top, maybe some grated cheese or crumbled queso fresco, and tortilla chips on the side.

It's My Birthday

Or I should say, it WAS my birthday.  We can still celebrate, right?  Here are my 3 days of celebrations...

Birthday eve at the symphony with a handsome guy...

and my niece Lexie and her BF, Juvol.  We had gotten student tickets, and none of our kids could go.  Lexie needed a concert report, so it worked out perfectly.  Fun double date, guys! ;)  The program included Carmina Burana, which - who doesn't love it?  Dad, thanks for introducing me to Carl Orff way back when.

Saturday was my birthday, so I could essentially do whatever I wanted.  Normally I would have taken Araceli to Youth Symphony, but I felt like staying home and getting ready for Ruby's Halloween dance dinner.  Scott took Celi and I puttered arund, making soup, driving kids, and tidying up the house.  It's so fun to be home and engaged in a fun project.  Everyone got their chores and practicing done for me for my birthday, and by 2:00, all of our Saturday activities were wrapped up, so I went to see "Inside Out" at the Kaysville Theatre, just me and my good friends, Buttered Popcorn and Diet Coke.  Those two are a match made in heaven, I tell ya.

My birthday was happy and relaxing, and full of fun, but my heart was sad because Golda wasn't there.  She hadn't even called to say happy birthday, but I figured that was OK.  She was busy.  Around 5, Scott left to "go pick something up."  I was regretting telling him that I wanted a new frying pan for my birthday.  Dumb!  Who cares about a frying pan?  And now he had to go run a stupid errand.  When he pulled in the driveway, Golda got out of the car!  To my surprise, I burst into tears.  She tricked me into thinking she had forgotten my birthday.  Again, Scott delivered the perfect gift.  He's goooood!

Ruby's friends arrived, some in time for daylight pictures, some too late.  There were 7 darling couples, and they had a great time before suddenly scattering to make it to the dance.  I had told Ruby that the dance was on my birthday and I would be really sad if I didn't get to have the group over for dinner, or at least over afterward for a fun activity.  She came through and I got to do my favorite thing on my birthday.  Thanks, Ruby!

Ruby and John Harvey, my dad's best friend Malcolm's grandson.  I'm sure it didn't occur to them in high school that their descendants would be going to a dance together at the very same school, waaaay in the future!  Or that both of them would have Chinese granddaughters, Hazel and Xanthe, or that we'd all still be in Kaysville!  OK, that last one,t hey might have predicted.  They both love this place.

During the dinner, Araceli took the kids to the ward trunk-or-treat, except Xanthe, who had a birthday party in Fruit Heights.  Everyone was happy.  Scott quietly watched the Utah game in the TV room, a good backdrop to the teens' revelry. 

Dinner was simple.  I made a sort of taco soup with my new favorite shortcut: organic pumpkin soup as a base.  It adds a lot of flavor.  Emily Major brought rolls, Taylor Knighton brought drinks, and Emily Knight brought cookies for dessert.  I had dry ice in the glasses, and the kids had fun playing with it.  Who knew dry ice could be so entertaining?

On Sunday, there was church.  Scott taught the Sunday School lesson for me, and did a great job.  He always gets emotional and says nice things about me, so it's always great to be there.  After church, Josh and Emily came over for nachos.  The kids were pretty excited about last-minute cheese on chips!  See, why cook?  Scott and I had planned a getaway to Park City, and when Golda came home, we added a detour through Orem so we could take her home.  I hate that the Frontrunner doesn't frontrun on Sundays.

We visited Nana on the way, who was as chipper as usual.  She showed us a letter from Athena that she had put in the lobby for everyone to see.  I think she' gets confused about which areas are "hers" and just thinks the whole facility is her house.  I'll often find her belongings in the entryway book shelves.

My hair was already bleached from before our California trip, so I went ahead and dyed it blue because "it's my party and I'll dye if I want to!"  Ha ha.  Ill have to cover it up when I put on my formal ballet teacher persona, but colorful hair makes me so happy.

In Golda's dorm.  She keeps it so neat and clean.

At last, the getaway part of the weekend!  The drive to Heber from Orem was pretty.  We just took in the canyon and the colors, and ended up on Main Street at Wasatch Brew Pub for dinner.  All I wanted in life was a good, juicy cheeseburger, and Wasatch delivered.  With tater tots, too!  It's like the universe was in on making my birthday the best.  Scott and I and our books spent the night in front of the fireplace at the Ranch, and came home Monday morning in time to get kids to school.

44th birthday, I give you an A+.

Sinatra says happy birthday.

Drink More Water

I was lying on the couch recovering from getting a thousand (OK, four) kids to school and Tizzy wanted eggs.  I told her, "I can't make you eggs.  My stomach hurts."  She went and got a bowl, and a festive one at that, and said, "Here's a bowl, Mama, in case you throw up.  Now get up and make me eggs."

At three years old, she's been in this family long enough to know that her mother is a callous witch, and she's copying that behavior!  She's clever.  And I did; I got up and made her eggs.

Ruby knows my standard responses.  She'll say, "My ribs hurt."  I take a breath to launch into my speech, but she's one step ahead of me.  "Don't even, Mom!  I know.  I've heard the story about the rib cage linings rubbing together because I'm not drinking enough water, and that sounds fake."

Or how about this one:  "My hands hurt so bad, and Mom, don't tell me that practicing will make them feel better."  I close my mouth and pretend I wasn't on the verge of saying just that.  Ruby did get back to me, though, when I had surgery on my foot a year ago.  She came to me the next day, when I was groggy and drugged-up and said, "Are you ready for your guitar recital, Mom?"

Touche!  I thought back to the day after Ruby's knee surgery when I had insisted she play in her guitar recital.  I mean, it's not like you have to stand up to play the guitar or anything, and as long as she was on drugs, she likely wouldn't even remember it afterwards.

Oh, she remembered it.  Like an elephant.  Just like Scott remembers having to sleep under his desk at the office after having his achilles tendon reattached, because I wouldn't let him rest at home.

My callousness works well with Araceli, though, because she it a total hypochondriac.  Every day, it's a new ailment, along with a new link to a page on the Mayo Clinic's website.  Scott asked me if the kids were asleep the other night, and I said, "I doubt it. I haven't even gotten the text about Araceli's daily injury."

This next one had a picture attached to it, which I have spared you having to see.

In case you're at a loss as to what advice to give people around you, here are my standard answers:

Drink more water.
You might as well be sick at school/ballet/the office as at home.
You can be sick after your lesson.
It's probably growing pains.
Take some Advil.  Bye, have fun at class!
You'll have to rest this weekend.

Let's just hope none of my people ever has appendicitis.

Joshua Tree

 We never want to leave Imperial Beach, but having a new leg of the trip on the horizon was exciting, too.  We left Golda at the San Diego airport with 4 hours to wait before her flight.  I did feel guilty, but that's a good compromise for being able to fly home!  She didn't mind.

Our next destination was Palm Springs, where Scott served 9 months of his mission, and then Joshua Tree National Park.

Emily King gave us all her good Palm Springs recommendations, and we started our time there at Great Shakes, with 4 big shakes including date-walnut, a local specialty.  Our favorite was pistachio.  We liked Palm Springs so much, we probably spent too much time there.  Before hitting the road again, we went to visitor information and printed off the 4th grade National Parks Pass that we needed in order to get our pass at the park.  One of the many perks of having Xanthe repeat 4th grade!  Just kidding.  But repeating 4th grade has been the best thing we ever did for Xanthe.

Anyway...we drove around Palm Springs for a bit, but not much looked familiar to Scott, so we continued on.  This part of the trip was largely unscripted, but it worked out completely right.  The entrance to Joshua Tree came up before we got to our hotel, so we did that first, which was good, because we just did not have enough time to explore the park.  It was a magical place.  It seems like once you enter a national park, you feel free and easy, and uplifted by the beauty as well as the foresight of whomever it was who set aside these lands.  They're special.  Our drive through the park included some short rock climbs, some photo shoots and some extreme admiration for the sunset in this incredible place.  And the road took us directly to the opposite entrance and our hotel, right outside the park.  Like I said, months of planning couldn't have yielded a more perfect result.  Except that we didn't have enough time.  We'll go back, for sure.

At the Spring Hill Suites, there was a heavenly combination of melatonin, WiFi and the Utah game. Life does not get better! Ruby got some homework done on the computer in the lobby and Scott quietly cheered his team to victory while the babies conked out and I caught up on everyone else's fall break adventures via Instagram.  If a perfect day has to end, that's a good way for it to do so.

 I love all these pictures.  The light was perfect.

 Um, Ruby??

 Um...Circe?  Har har

Thanks for the free NP pass, Xanthe!

Sunday, the drive home.  We were still 10 hours out, but we were covering new ground, so it was fun.  After an early hotel breakfast, we took on historic Route 66.  Just like in the movie Cars, this stretch of highway has been completely forgotten, since the modern interstate took a different route.  Parts of it were pretty eerie.  Who is it that lives in those dilapidated trailers and boarded-up houses, miles from nowhere, with just scorpions for neighbors?  I shudder to think what could be hidden in those rusty abodes.  Probably nothing, but still, they're creepy.

This famous landmark was pretty creepy too, but the gas station attendant was nice.  He gave the kids each a candy bar after we stocked up on engine oil and cookies.  Also, I had the opportunity to run out of the bathroom with my pants down after coming butt to face with a big, hairy spider.  The desert may not be for me.

But the road is.  Once we hit Vegas, traffic was insufferable, though.  Loads of Utahns returning from fall break and somehow unable to drive as fast as I wanted them to.  There was construction and there was rain, and there were accidents.  The drive took 12 hours.  The kids were so nice, though, and who can complain when we were fortunate enough to make it safely home?