My Newest Student

I started a new student about six weeks ago. She was very excited to start learning with me. She'd done some previous beginner theory studies at home, but it was her first real time playing on a piano. I was nervous at first. I wasn't sure how our lessons were going to go. I didn't know if she could sit still during our lesson. Would she take them seriously or did she just want to play? 

Our first lesson was so much fun. I set myself a timer because it was earlier in the day than I normally taught. As she walked in, I went to greet her at the front door and walked her into my studio. I showed her the bathroom where she could wash her hands and which towel to use and where to put them after she dried her hands. 

The view from my "desk"

She did a great job curving her fingers and playing all the notes very carefully. I wrote her homework in a little notebook for her to have during the week and practice with at home. But the best part was watching her enjoy her piano lesson so much. I don't know if she enjoyed her lesson so much because she was playing piano or if she enjoyed having me as her teacher. Either way, it was a lot of fun for me, too. 

I hope she remembers this first piano lesson of hers. She might not, and chances are, she won't, but I hope to share these thoughts with her one day. This lesson reminded me of why I love teaching and why I love playing the piano myself. When our lesson was over, I handed her her books and told her I'd see her at our next lesson. She bounced off the bench and left my studio.

I tidied up my studio a bit and then walked over to the next room. I saw my daughter grinning at me, smiled back at her, and asked, "Did you have fun at your piano lesson with Mrs. Cathy?"

***

She calls me Mrs. Cathy just like all my other students. I only speak English with her during our lessons. And I remind myself not to have extra standards for her just because she is the child of a piano teacher. I intentionally do not practice with her during the week because these roles need to be clear and separate. So far, they are working out very nicely. I'm sure there will come a day when a lesson will be more stressful than it is productive. And I may need to readjust my perspective in order to keep my priorities straight. But these last two months have been filled with a lot of joy. I hope to keep it that way as long as I can. 

This last week, she was talking to one of my student's moms and sharing about how she was taking piano lessons with me. In her conversation, she told the mom, "My mommy is magic. In her studio she is Mrs. Cathy. And then when she walks out of her studio she's my mommy!"

💗

My First Car

Happy birthday month to my first car! My car is turning 18 this year. It's kind of surreal I drive a car so old. Ha. I know the trend for some people is to drive a car until they're tired of it or something breaks or the features become too old. And then they sell it, trade it in, and get a newer model or a different type of car. Me? I've never felt that way. I'm a one and done kind of person. If things didn't deteriorate, break down, or wear, I'd keep things forever. Unfortunately (and fortunately for some things,) that is not the case and we replace clothing, shoes, cars, appliances, etc. Bluey would say replace husbands, but I think Gerald and Hecuba might disagree. 

This was the first car I ever learned to drive on. In driving school, they actually had the exact same make and model of car as well so I never got used to driving any other car. I know everything this car has been through. There's a paint scratch on the back rear from when I hit the gas while still in reverse. That was probably the worst thing I've done to the car. 

In high school, I was driving a pretty new car. It wasn't a brightly colored VW bug or a sports car, but it wasn't my parent's old minivan either. 

By the front passenger door, there's a dent from my 17th birthday. The car was about 15 months old. I was running late for school that day and didn't park well. The right side of my car was on the line of the parking spot. I didn't have time to readjust. Or I chose not to readjust. Whatever the case, it was a teenage decision made from running behind and laziness. When I left school, I didn't notice anything major. The car beside me had left before I did though. A few weeks later, I noticed the dent. My mind was able to piece together where the damage came from, and I've never fixed it. It's purely cosmetic and the car has driven fine. I never told my dad about this and he's never asked. 

We brought our first baby home from the hospital in this car. It went from being the pristinely clean car for a college kid to a car filled with food crumbs, dropped cheerios, toys in crevices, and tissues and wipes shoved into door handles. But I wouldn't have it any other way. This car has served me well through many stages of life and continues to do so today. 

I rarely do this anymore, but it was very satisfying to fit toilet paper, 

diapers, and wipes in addition to grocery items in the trunk of my little car. 

There's other dings and nicks in the car over the years. I lost one hubcap about three years ago and we removed all of them. My car definitely looks like an old car when I drive it. I don't notice the outside of the car when I'm inside so it doesn't phase me. The inside to me still looks pretty good. It's lacking some of the nicer features - no backup camera, no built in GPS or bluetooth connectivity. My clock went out years ago so I never know what time it is when I'm driving. Some of my control lights don't illuminate anymore at night.

It occurred to me this year my mother never knew this car. My dad purchased it the year after she died. It replaced the Chevy Celebrity she used to drive. The car started having some more problems and with my brother being a brand new driver, my dad wanted him driving something more reliable. That's how I ended up with such a new car in high school. I think I surprised myself because although I know my mother has missed out on many things in my life, my car has been in my life for a long time.

But that shows how much longer she's been gone....

This is almost the exact color of the one we owned. 

I only feel how old my car is when I have something to compare it to. I notice it the most when we travel and rent cars. Even our Kia rental car had nicer features than my car. I'd never choose to purchase that car for myself, but yes, it felt like a newer car on the inside. 

The hope is for my car to make it long enough so my daughter can learn how to drive on it. That would be monumental if it were to actually happen. We do take pretty good care of it - parked inside, lightly driven, no punching the gas - so we'll see. 

My first car. It'll always have a special place in my life no matter how plain it is. 

Shadows to See Light

The blog has been very quiet lately. It's been an intense month. I haven't quite figured out how to put all of my feelings into words. I may never. 

Work is busy. I took the last two weeks of the month off, and it still isn't enough time to get everything done. Granted, we were on vacation for almost one of the two weeks, so not much was able to get done then. It was a much needed vacation. The kids were able to get away. We had a much more successful flight this time than the first time we flew with kids. I haven't been able to write about that in four years because of how triggered it made me for the longest time. 

My daughter was one. We were flying to see friends moving halfway across the world. It was my first time meeting her two children and her first time meeting my husband and only child (at the time). The flight was delayed so she fell asleep at the airport instead of during takeoff like I had anticipated. Strike one. On the plane, an elderly woman had taken our seats so we sat in the seats across the aisle. I proceeded to wipe down the seats, trays, window area, and then a flight attendant came over. She told us we couldn't sit in the Exit Row with an infant. Of course....of course....and when we told her where our actual seats were, she didn't ask the elderly woman to move, because who does that? It's rude! So instead, the lady sitting in front of us offered to trade her seat with our row. 

So we ended up sitting in different seats than we'd originally purchased, and I did not wipe them down because I was too flustered from all the shifting.

After take-off, I went to give my daughter a sip of her water, completely forgetting that bottles pressurize with the elevation change. Water came shooting out of her bottle through the pop-up straw and splashed some to the people sitting in front of us. The lady completely flipped out that her iPad was splashed with water and almost ruined and basically ruined the rest of the flight for us. Every time after that when I put the tray up or down, she'd turn around and glare. She chatted with the elderly man sitting next to her and he did the same. When I bent down to try and retrieve something from my backpack to calm my child down, he glared because he couldn't stand the pressure for 10 seconds for me to retrieve something. 

At least one of them was Canadian. Canadians are known to be kind and generous and forgiving. Not this one. Canadians are people just like any other nationality and they can be real PITA too. Look at the person. Not the label. 

I was too nice then. I'm also not the fastest thinker when I'm anxious or stressed or under pressure. But if I had the nerve or if it ever happened again, I'd give her a mouthful. 

You think I'm excited about flying with a one year old? You think I wanted to sit behind you on this plane? You think I want the plane to be this squished and the seats so close together that I have to push on the seat in front of me just so I can bend over in a way to retrieve something to try and help your comfort on this plane so my child isn't going nuts or being loud? My daughter feels exactly the same way you do right now. But she's one. You on the other hand are a grown adult who should be able to control feelings and think for someone else. You used to be my daughter's age. What would you do if you saw someone glare at your mother like that? Immaturity is only acceptable when you are not expected to know any better. I think you'd lose to my one year old. 

I'm still triggered thinking about that incident. Sometimes I wish my memory weren't so vivid. 

My kids did really amazing on their plane rides this month. Yes, I have a five and three year old now, so the expectations are a little different, but both of them did really well. The flight there was the best it could have been. Quiet kids. No crying. No screaming. No noise basically. The flight back was a little rougher as my three-year-old was over tired and he cried for a bit. But people were understanding. Nobody said anything or glared or gave us stares. Or maybe they did and I didn't see it, but ignorance is bliss. 

***

We are a family of four. We have a three and five year old. Not too far off. We've gone shopping there many times as a family. I've gone shopping there myself since I was a teenager. I don't think I can ever go back. I couldn't sleep for days after it happened. Two days after, I broke out in hives all over with swollen hands. At first, I thought it was stress. But it kept getting worse. I was on antibiotics that week. After 36 hours, I went to an urgent care to get it looked at. He told me it looked like an allergic reaction to the medication. We switched medication and the rash started to subside. My body returned back to normal, or as normal as I could feel physically. But mentally? It's still there. 

The week after it happened, we ran errands as a family. We went to Old Navy. We went to a mall. We went to a restaurant. At one point, I checked my phone and saw a notification of a message regarding a shooting. I thought it was another one. Then I clicked in and saw it was 6 days old. The immediate panic went away. But the residual feelings did not. They still haven't. 

It actually occurred to me when I was on vacation, I shouldn't feel as afraid walking around in this state. Because their laws were different. I should actually feel safer, more relieved, to be here than I do at home. Isn't that weird? I've never thought in my adult life I'd come across feeling safer somewhere which wasn't where I called home, but I did. And then it hit me. During the year I moved to a different country and lived by myself, never once did I have fears like this. Fears of getting mugged by thieves? Sure. Being abducted? Maybe. But being shot openly in broad daylight doing mundane everyday tasks? Never. 

I was reading about one of the shooting victims who didn't die. He said God had plans for him and that's why he survived the shooting. I'm glad he thinks that way, and I think he should think that way, but what about everyone else who didn't survive? Was that God's plan, too? It is so hard for me as someone who believes in God to answer yes to that question. I don't want to answer yes to that question. I want to kick and scream and yell at God for letting it happen. I have a three year old. 

And then I have to remind myself. Vermeer's painting Girl With a Pearl Earring depicts a young woman with a light-skinned face. I remember the light-skinned face by memory. But Vermeer used dark paint on her face as well. Why is that? 

Her face has a shadow. And we don't know until we see the whole painting. 

Tomato Babies

My mother lived at the new house after we moved for three years before she died. In those three years, there was one season when we went to the store and bought plants. We planted azaleas and gladiolus in the front and tomatoes in the backyard. 

I don't actually remembered what sparked this choice to go purchase plants. I don't remember my mother ever taking care of plants except a pothos plant she'd had since my brother was born. But I remember planting all of these plants. We were just playing really. Nothing actually grew well. The azalea did okay for a few years but didn't thrive. The gladiolus bloomed that first year and never again. 

The tomatoes? Oh the tomatoes...now these I remember vividly.

We planted the tomatoes next to the fence facing south. They received a decent amount of sunlight, and it really wasn't a bad place to tuck some tomato plants and still stay out of the way of the rest of the yard. 

I was in charge of taking care of all the plants. I remember coming home from school in the afternoon everyday and I'd go outside and fill up watering jugs, open the front gate and water the azaleas and the gladiolus in the front. Then I'd go back into the backyard and swap my watering jug for the hose. I'd stretch the hose out and wind it around the backyard to where the tomatoes were. I'd stand there watering the tomatoes and watch water drip off their foliage. 

Then I'd proceed to water the rest of the grass in the backyard and make my way back toward the spigot to turn off the water once I'd sprayed the whole backyard. I would reel the hose and wind it back onto the hose stand nearly before going back inside the house. I enjoyed watering these plants after school. It was fun. I was alone. It was therapeutic.

One afternoon I was poking around the garage and I found my dad's fertilizer. Lawn fertilizer, although I didn't know the difference. Being about 11-12, I understood that fertilizer helped plants grow faster. I also knew I needed to wear gloves handling them as it is a chemical. But I did not know about the correct amount of fertilizer to apply. I did not know that too much fertilizer would turn into poison. I also didn't know that lawn fertilizer should not be applied to garden edibles, but let's not forget how old I was. 

I took small handfuls of the fertilizer and placed them at the base of each tomato plant. Then, I watered it in. We had six tomato plants to start with. Four of them died. The other two sprouted up wildly and became large, untamed tomato plants. I thought it was cool. This tiny little stem of a plant became this large entanglement of stems and leaves and fruit buds. I didn't understand or know the need for a tomato cage or support at the time. Neither did my mother, so we didn't have one. They just....grew. 

I never ate a single tomato off of those tomato plants. It's probably better I didn't anyway because I used lawn fertilizer on a tomato plant. Oops. But I did pick one tomato. I picked it when it was still mostly green and a little red. I picked it because the animals were getting to them and if I wanted to pick a fruit and show myself what I grew, I'd have to get it before it was ripe.  Otherwise, an insect or an invasive mammal would beat me to it. We didn't know to protect the fruits. 

The tomatoes we once grew in my dad's backyard have been long gone. After I realized we weren't going to be eating any tomatoes that year, I cared for it less. Also, the hot summer made it unenjoyable to stand outside and continue watering. Interests changed. Most likely it died in the first frost that winter and didn't return after. Life got busy. 

Now, I grow my own plants. I do not sprinkle lawn fertilizer on my edibles. I support my plants with stakes and cages when needed. I have a soil moisture meter to prevent over and under watering. I pick off bugs on leaves by hand if I see them. This is my third year involved in growing. The first was research and learning from my neighbor who's a master gardener. She shared so many of the fruits of her labor with me. I saved seeds, I researched plants, I studied sun patterns around our house, and I started planning. The second, I tried germinating seeds I'd saved. That was quite an adventure. But late summer, I actually had some harvest. Although not nearly as large or tasty as grocery store peppers, it was satisfying to eat the fruit of my own labor. 

This year, I'm growing peppers from seeds I've saved over the years. I'm also growing some Thai basil from seeds I purchased last year but couldn't get to germinate. The seeds are still good - it was user error why no basil sprouted last year. I managed to get some Genovese basil seeds, saved from my neighbor, to germinate as well. 

But you know what my favorite is? My tomatoes. 

I saw this tomato plant at Costco and could not resist. It was the last tomato plant they had.
The tallest part of the stem had broken off due to mishandling probably, but I knew I could help
with the right care. It has grown beautifully. 

My cherry tomatoes. Cute and sweet, hopefully just like the fruit.

Yes, tomatoes are "easy to grow." Yes, tomatoes grow rather quickly given the right growing conditions. Yes, we eat and cook with a good number of tomatoes. But that's not what makes growing them special. My tomatoes are special because they resurfaced this memory for me after all these years. And it wasn't even that my mother gardened with me and we have memories growing tomatoes together. We didn't. 

But she was the one who said, "Let's grow some tomato plants."

This is 19. 

Part Two: Foresight

This is part two of a two part series. To read part one. please catch up here. 

Years passed. The Small Table was still outside on the patio. By this time, his wood was stripped on the most exposed side. The once shiny, polished finish had turned black in areas. Dust and pollen accumulated on top. The Small Table was losing hope. He had waited through many changing seasons, and still, nobody came for him. 

One day, Foresight entered this house. Foresight surveyed the area. Foresight looked inside the pantry. Foresight looked in the refrigerator. Foresight looked in the freezer. There would be a time and place for dealing with these areas. By chance, Foresight opened the blinds to the patio door and stumbled upon The Small Table. 

Foresight asked The Follower if The Small Table was being used. The Follower did not use him. There was no need to ask The Fool as that is why The Small Table was rejected in the first place. Foresight cleaned, wiped, disassembled, and transported The Small Table away.

The Small Table was elated. He was so happy to be found. He was so glad to be rescued from the patio. He was ready for his makeover.

Foresight had a vision of the beauty which could be revealed from The Small Table. There would be a new coat of paint. Choosing the color would be slightly trickier. Foresight debated white. Gray. Navy. Even a bright shade of teal was considered. But in the end, Foresight made the decision to leave the top natural and stain it. The legs would be painted white to create an elegant, modern look. 

It's so nice to have a covered workspace in the garage, even with two cars inside...😊

Of course, the actual transformation process is never easy. The Small Table had to endure a generous layer of sanding to remove all the damage and ensure an even coat of new stain and paint. On went a generous coat of stain as well as three layers of poly to protect the surface. The Small Table would be protected and taken care of. 

The first coat of primer never looks like much, but you have to trust the process.

Each of the legs was meticulously primed and painted white with a satin finish. You would never have guessed what The Small Table had been through from seeing it now. 

The Small Table hopes to be able to listen to children laughing. The sounds of voices in conversation. He wants to be colored on, be painted on. He wants to be the surface to rest bowls of freshly cooked meals. He wants to soak in the smells of various cuisines. He wants to support the pages of a book or the paper in a notebook as someone studies, completes homework, or writes for fun. Yes, he wants to be used and worn over time in these ways. Yes, he wants his surface to be occasionally scratched or marked. 

These ways, however destructive they can be, are much better than being left outside to the mercy of the weather. These ways, however destructive they can be, are much better than suffocating under a pile of things. These ways, however destructive they can be, are much better than being rejected. 

Because these are the ways in which love and purpose happen. And Foresight was able to see it. 

Part One: The Fool and the Follower

The Follower lived in a beautiful house with not so beautiful things. There were not many and the house felt sparse, but The Follower didn't care. They worked, they sufficed , and there were no complaints. One day, The Fool entered this beautiful house. The Fool took a look around and considered. This house was not beautiful enough. It needed more beautiful things. 

So The Fool went shopping and purchased items. Beautiful items. New items. And in they started. At first, it was different. Different was not something The Follower was used to. The Follower was discontent and voiced this discontentment. The Fool didn't listen. In came more beautiful things. Beautiful things became just things. The Follower slowly lost a voice, lost the discontentment, and let it happen. 

Slowly, the house of not so beautiful things that was sparsely filled became the house of overcrowded beautiful things. Items which individually could have been decorative, beautiful, lovely, now became a plethora of things, overcrowding countertops. Storage was needed to store the excess items. Beautiful things became forgotten because they were piled on top of each other. You couldn't even identify one item at a time. It was all so overwhelming to look at. 

The beautiful things all together became not so beautiful. And slowly, this once beautiful house with not so beautiful things became an ugly house with ugly things. But The Fool did not notice how ugly the things were becoming. The Fool wanted more and more. In everything came. An item here. An item there. Slowly, steadily. And The Follower did not say a word. 

In the midst of this infiltration, The Fool became discontent with a table. This table was too small for The Fool. It wasn't large enough to hold all the things The Fool wanted to display. Display is an understatement. The Fool asked for a Larger Table and The Follower obliged. 

Now The Small Table was one of the few "beautiful" items in the once beautiful house. It was a table of solid wood, kept in very good condition for its age. But The Fool didn't want it. And The Follower didn't see it. In barged the larger table. Next to a wooden shelf. Next to a baker's rack blocking a wall of windows. Next to a floor filled with wastebaskets, four on the floor within a 25 foot distance. The empty space around what used to be the smaller table lessened. The space felt even more cramped and uncomfortable. 

The Small Table was unwanted. The Follower did not know what to do with it. The Fool didn't want it. There was no space in other rooms for the smaller table to live. So you know what happened? The Small Table was relegated to the back patio. To The Fool and The Follower, it was problem solved. They didn't want it, they didn't see it.

The Small Table was now exposed to the elements. He saw the hot sun of summer and the cold snow and ice of winter. He felt the strong winds brush against his surface. A wasp made a home underneath an eave. Dust and pollen blew around him, settling on top. The Small Table stayed like this for years and years. But you know what? He was happier outside exposed to the elements than he was inside. Because inside the once beautiful house was suffocating. Inside the once beautiful house, he went unnoticed under and next to the piles and piles of things. 

Outside, he was in plain sight. Yes, he was getting weathered by the elements, but he was visible. And the smaller table made a vow to persevere until someone noticed his beauty. 

Years later, Foresight came upon this house....

Part Two

Single Parenting Week

Since we've had kids, my husband has had to leave for work trips four times. The first time was when my daughter was six weeks old. That was an absolute nightmare and I was very pissed about that trip. The second time was when my daughter was 22 months old and I was 30 weeks pregnant. After that trip, I jokingly hoped he wouldn't have to travel for the next 2+ years. My wish came true!....at the expense of Covid. 

The first trip he took after Covid was last summer. I had a four year old and a two year old. I don't remember it being too bad, but I also don't remember what happened. He took another trip last week and I was left with a five year old and a three year old. We had LOTS of fun when Daddy was gone. There were definitely multiple moments where I wanted to scream at them and make them disappear temporarily, but overall, it was a really fun week with my kids. 

I took the week off work, but honestly, I traded it for more work and no pay. My husband did keep up his end of the bargain of always buying me a gift when he goes out of town and leaves me with the kids. I was impressed by his thoughtfulness and how useful this gift was.

He got me (us) fridge magnet letters! They're so fun. We write each other messages and even label the dishes for the week. It's like an alternative to our dry erase board except more hands-on.

My daughter has also taken on to creating her own words and asking me to pronounce them. 

This one was not as impressive as the one she made last night. I do like dmydym though. If only that were a real word...

Needless to say, it was a relief to have him back on Friday after a solid 96 hours by myself. 

I actually kind of miss those blog quizzes we used to put up as teenagers on our xanga and myspace 20+ years ago for our friends to fill out and see who knew us best. I wanted to bring one back for fun but actually offer a reward for the person with the most correct answers. So I made a quiz using a Google Form based off of my week as a single parent. The person with the most correct answers will receive a gift card of their choice from me. 

I actually don't even know if my husband knows all the answers to this quiz. But I promise you if his is the top winner, it won't count :) 

I'm accepting quiz entries until 12:00AM Friday April 14th, 2023. 

Maybe this will be a new tradition I start when my husband goes out of town for work. We'll see. 😄