Let's Call This "Getting Off on a Tangent."

My writing has been atrocious!  It's all disjointed and chock-full of typos.  Ugh!  I keep meaning to go back and proofread, but I never have time to do anything but throw something down and be done with it.  I did fix yesterday's post, though, and even put in the photo of Ptolemy and his scraped forehead, which had somehow gotten deleted.

 And here's another picture of the darling boy, planking at the World's Best Corndog truck, on the way to Park City.  Scott and I took a random selection of kids with us Saturday afternoon after ballet, lawn mowing, yard work, chores and finally completing everyone's practicing.  First stop, corndogs.  Second stop, the zoo.

 I love the zoo, but it was crowded!  Scott and I relaxed in a pirate ship while the kids got soaked in the new water play area.  I don't even know if we saw any animals.  I think they were all avoiding the crowds.  It didn't matter; we were on vacation.  We did run into some friends of ours from high school. Their two daughters are in their mid-twenties now, and they were pushing around a grandchild in a stroller.  My, how their lives diverged from ours early on!  They were loving life at the zoo.  We had a two-year-old.  We are so behind!  ;)  But so grateful.  What would we ever do without Tziporah!?

 After the zoo, the Ranch.  Playground, a new episode of Doctor Who, reading and admiring the leaves.  It might be peak season for some of the colors, buy we still have the yellow aspens to look forward to.

 That's Deer Valley.  We're off Highway 40 between I-80 and Heber.

 Sunday morning we shared some French toast at Kneaders.  Sunday brunch assuredly falls into a grey area of "appropriate Sunday activities," but it inspires us to be up and about on a beautiful Sunday morning, seeing people and appreciating the day.  So, Church of the Sunday Brunch, then real church.  We're happy.

 This is what everyone is going to remember when I die.  Me driving in a car, usually lecturing kids about practicing or organizing their plans or finishing their homework or being on time.  This time, just instructing Scott on taking pictures of the scenery.  I'm so bossy, it annoys even me sometimes.

This is my church calling, Primary music leader.  This Sunday, all the 8-to-12 girls performed the 5th Article of Faith song to pass off a requirement for their Faith in God awards and we took a picture to show their leader.  Aren't they all beautiful?  I appreciate the opportunity to sing with these children and to learn with them.  Music is so effortless for children.  All they have to do is care a little bit, and the music just comes out.  They memorize the words and the melody so easily, and they're so easy to inspire.  Music is magic, and when you combine it with the Spirit, the children really feel something special.  

By the time you hit the last twenty minutes of a three-hour church block, all the kids really want to do is to engage in something.  They don't want to be taught at, they want to work and play and accomplish.  There are better music leaders than I, for sure, but I love it.   I make sure I tell the kids at the beginning that I'm happy to be with them, and happy to be doing music.  I tell them at the end that I love them, and it's true.  Over the years, I have learned so much about teaching through experience. In ballet or violin lessons, I used to get down on kids when they hadn't practiced, or when they weren't trying, or even when they couldn't do something.  It's better when you can see the whole child, and look at each one as an individual.  Then you ask yourself, "What does this child need from this class?"  Quite often, a little girl comes to ballet with puffy, red eyes.  I know I've sent my kids out of the car like that, for various reasons.  There was a little girl quietly crying in the dressing room, late for her first class after Nutcracker.  She hadn't made it, but I don't know if that's the reason she was crying.  During the class, I tried to figure out what she needed.  She is shy, so attention wasn't warranted, but she needed to know that she was special, and she needed to work hard, to forget her sadness.  

We forget sometimes that hard work is its own reward, and that kids love hard work.  Even when I'm teaching in church, I talk about how "we have a lot of work to do," and try to challenge the kids.  In ballet, at the end of class, I point out how hard the dancers have worked.  I will tell them something like, "If we do 48 tendus during each class, that's 4,000 tendus a year, so if you make each one count, think how far ahead you'll be than if you just move your leg."

At church, I outline how many songs we have in our upcoming program, and how few minutes we have to make them beautiful.  I also say, though, "You already sound amazing on (this song) so we won't work on that one today."  Framing our objectives like that makes the time so much more meaningful, and the kids leave feeling as though they have accomplished something.  What I never say in any of my classes or lessons, is "If you do a good job, we'll {fill in the reward}."  No.  Doing a good job is what we're there to do, and it's expected.  Oh, we'll do a good job, all right.  And our reward will be...that we did a good job.

After the accomplishment of church, we celebrated September birthdays at Jeff and Richelle's house. which was lovely.  I love our family.  Sunday night, speaking of accomplishing something, Scott and I accomplished nothing except texting each other suggestions for books to read.  So much for actual reading.  Ruby was trying to read A Tale of Two Cities in our room, but we kept distracting her with articles and Instagrams, interspersed with info from the internet, re: the plot of the book she couldn't follow due to her parents' inability to focus.  

Have I mentioned that I love having seven kids?  I do.  Especially when they're all still piled on our bed at 10 pm.  But I literally have no brain power left.  Those books Scott suggested?  They sounded too hard.  I might need a does of my own teaching.