Resolutions

I'm not typically a fan of New Year Resolutions. There's something that seems insincere about everyone, on the same day, resolving to change things about themselves. It's like we only do it because we're supposed to, not because we actually desire the change and are willing put in the hard work to get there.

That being said, this year I'm feeling the itch for change. And I think it's good to set goals and say things out loud, into the universe, so that we can be ready for whatever comes. And because I'm a bossy oldest child, I'm going to make my family participate as well. 

I'll start. 

This next year I want to be more purposeful in the things I do, which involves setting attainable, specific goals in all areas of my life while searching for the "why" that fuels everything I do. 

Aleks says he wants to finish the Louisville Ironman and to be more romantic. 

My mom wants to do the things she thinks are important, not the things she thinks other people think are important. 

Maia's is to stay healthy. 

Ruby wants to be with Campbell more (my brother Alex's dog).

My dad's New Year goal is to plan, enjoy, and remember a three week vacation. He's never taken that much time off before!

Matt wants to weigh less, own less, and want less. 

Audrey wants to play with toys. 

Cydney has 12 books she wants to read. 

Kodiak wants to gain some weight, sit up, crawl, eat solids, and learn to say a few words. He's already a man with ambition. 

Theo made some pirate and pirate ship sounds. 

 Happy New Year dear friends!

 

Miracles

Metaphorically speaking, this semester I've felt like a pot that's been filled with water and set on the stove to boil. With a full studio at the university, a growing private studio, church job, and grade school children starting extracurricular activities, the pot was filled to just below the brim. Further, due to an usually busy summer, in which I was single parenting most of the time while Aleks was training and painting as many surfaces in my house as possible, this fall the water was already at a simmer.

There's not one contributing factor that I can blame for the struggle I've felt in these last few months. A combination of trying to balance more than I am capable, not enough "off" time, and a consistent diet of frustration with excuse-filled students wore me down. Any unexpected setback, difficulty, or small challenge caused the pot to boil over.

I'm not typically a crier and I found myself in tears as I drove to work the first two weeks of the semester. The smallest triggers could set me off. Things such as, but not limited to:

Anyone asking "how are you?"
Not the customary "how's it going" that you say to everyone while expecting "good" in return, but the probing, thoughtful, what's going on below the surface "how are you?" would cause my throat to ache and eyes to fill. Once from a student who added "I just feel like I don't know what's going on in your life recently," once from Ruby's teacher, and once from a new colleague.

Anytime anyone did something remotely thoughtful.
I was teaching lesson while Aleks was out of town, and of course (Murphy's Law) Maia had no school and it was the morning, so I had both girls with me at work. I had bribed them with new lego sets and they were sitting on my office floor quietly putting them together. Another student of mine came to sit in on the lesson and brought a bag of Hershey's hugs with her. She quietly gave some to my kids while I continued teaching and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her gently place two candies on my desk. That tiniest act of kindness pierced my heart and I had to swallow my tears as I tried to teach.

Emotional music theater songs.
A high school student of mine was singing "With You" from Ghost and the chord progressions with the melody set me off. I grabbed a tissue as my nose filled with snot and tears streamed down my cheeks, saying "I'm fine, I've just had a rough day, but I'm fine. Let's keep going." In truth, I cried through no less than 3 lessons this semester. You'd think I would have gotten more "how are yous" from concerned students, which would have just made it worse, but thankfully (?) no one inquired further.

Anytime I see videos of people publicly appreciating or getting into Hamilton/Lin Manuel Miranda.
There's just something about seeing this composer and performer being recognized and celebrated for his hard work that tugs at my heart strings. I think that the fellow artist in me is just rejoicing with his success. All the hard work and perpetual improvements we make don't always pay off in a way that is nationally applauded. It's nice to see it happen.

Getting a free massage.
Last year I decided to get a massage once a month. I have a private student whom I've decided is my "massage student" and their lesson fees pay for my monthly massage. In November, I excited the room relaxed and bleary eyed in the bright sunshine where my masseuse informed me that there was no charge for my massage that day. My eyes filled with tears and I gave her a big hug; the timing was uncanny. Apparently I had earned my free 12th massage after getting one a month for a year. I tried to pull it together as I scheduled my next one with the receptionist. To this day, I'm still embarrassed when I see her working the front desk.

Generally, what it all boiled down to, was a feeling of being under-appreciated. Anytime I asked a student to do something and they came in the next week with excuses as to why they hadn't done what I asked, it felt as if they didn't respect me. When private students cancelled the day of their lesson, it started to become hard to keep my cool. When things were sprung on me last minute, my ability to be flexible and accommodating was greatly reduced. The inept communication skills with some people left me banging my head on the wall, while over communication with others sent me into a tailspin. When it's one or two students who are making things tough, it can be managed, but when it's 10 or 15 (roughly 1/3 of my students), it starts to wear on a person.

There was a subtle shift in the perception of my situation during the last weekend of October. I went to NATS, which was held 5 hours away in Nebraska and made the trip alone. During the drive I listened to the soundtrack of Hamilton in its entirety. Twice. It was a weekend of singing competition and I was able to see teachers from other universities, most of whom I only get to see once a year. This time, more than any other, I was struck with how many of us voice teachers are in a similar position. Adjuncting at several universities, trying to raise a family, and be relevant as a performer. It's an understatement to say how good it was for me to see that. And to realize that maybe it's not so bad.

After that weekend I got rid of some extra baggage in my private studio and lowered my expectations for the college students. The water in my metaphorical pot reduced. I hired house cleaners. The water receded even further.

Fall semester is now over and I made the decision not to teach privately over the break. So five empty weeks stretch before me. I literally feel lighter and emptier. Of course there is still housework and volunteering at schools, the madness of the holidays, a church job, and parenting to keep me busy, but I will get a much needed break from the thing that requires the most energy and vast emotional investment.

Aleks and I watched Inside Out with the girls a few weeks ago. What a good reminder it was that without sadness there can be no joy. I know that this challenging season will serve me in the months to come. It will help give perspective and already has helped me to see what I have to be thankful for.

Coincidentally, this is the first year we celebrated Hannukah with the girls, a celebration of lights and miracles. As a result, I've been more mindful of the things that fill my life with wonder. I haven't seen one of those old testament, biggie miracles like oil lasting for 8 nights, but I do on a daily basis witness smaller, unconventional ones. Like when Ruby decides to roll over and go to sleep instead of throwing a tantrum because her sheets aren't warm yet. Or how my husband and I still like each other. Or anytime someone chooses to do the right thing, even though it might be hard.

Or kindness. Actually, I might consider that one of the biggies.

Thanksgiving 2015

Thanksgiving 2015 has come and gone.

The pie has been eaten and the leftover mashed potatoes are one day away from their final resting place in the garbage can.

In the aftermath of all the dishes and laundry, I'm left with an unexpected amount of gratitude.

For my husband who cooked the Thankgiving turkey in the rain. And who loves his family completely and without reservation.

For beautiful neices

and cousins who are friends.

For a father-in-law who installed a new dishwasher on the friday after Thanksgiving

and didn't complain when it took all day.

 

For moments that will be forever etched in my memory.

Each year it seems the stakes get higher and life gets more complicated. I am constantly reminded that there is little I control. The struggles of my friends and family weigh on my heart and in my mind. 

And yet, the heartache makes the gratitude possible. It illuminates the ordinary and helps us to appreciate convention.

 

I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

May this spirit of gratitude carry us into the new year.

An open letter to my students

Dear Students,

We have just less than a month of the semester remaining. I thought it might be a good time to remind you of something that can get lost in the stress and busyness that seems to peak at this time.

I am on your team! I want you to succeed! I want you to be happy!

This semester has been weird. Many of us have been overwhelmed, tired, or burnt out more than we might usually be. It seems we started the semester exhausted, instead of refreshed and eager. But look at us! We pulled through. Here we are at the end, auditions and recitals and juries in sight.

You guys are doing awesome. I have pushed you and expected more from some of you than I have in the past. There has been more tension than usual in lessons. It hasn't been fun for either of us at times. However, you have stuck with it. You have persevered and are growing as singers, musicians, and young adults.

College is a hard. The classes can be challenging and time consuming. Many of you are putting yourselves through college, having to work before, after, and in-between classes to support yourselves. Furthermore, you are in this precarious place of having one foot in lingering childhood and one foot in approaching adulthood. I fully acknowledge that waking up to get to class on time is a huge victory. I also expect you to strive for the discipline that makes you get your butt out of bed on time each day.

Just like many of you, I supported myself through college. I taught piano lessons and had a church job all throughout my undergrad. I didn't have significant financial help from my parents. I didn't take out any loans, but relied on scholarships and work to get me by. I tell you this so that you know I understand what you are going through. I've been there and I'm on the other side in one piece, and happy!

This semester has been hard for me personally and professionally. I have questioned the practicality and worthiness of continuing work at WSU. I have felt alone and completely powerless in the face of your busy schedules. The teaching and learning that happens in my studio must be a collaboration between us and many times this semester I have felt that I was the only one showing up, ready to work. Without cooperation from you, there is only so much I can do. The work load must be split 50/50.

In today's society, we are often too overly concerned with outcomes. How we perform or the finished product is stressed as the most important thing. While I agree that a high quality finished product is essential, as an instructor at a liberal arts college, it is equally important to me that I help you to find a process and technique for your craft. Which is why so often in lessons I ask you "how was that different?" "how can you replicate that sound on your own?" or "what did that feel like?". I want you to know how to get to that finished product on your own. I want to help you to think critically and be curious about the process.

I care about you all so very much. My husband often tells me that he thinks I do not need to be as emotionally invested in my job as I am. However, you guys are the reason I stick around. The pay for an adjunct here at WSU is unconscionable. I tell you this to let you know how important to me you are. It's because of you that I've stuck with it.

I have everything to gain from you succeeding. Each well sung performance, audition, and job acquired is a win for me as well. With that in mind, everything I do and say in lessons is because I think it will help you become a better singer.

I am your biggest fan.

I can't do this alone. Let's push through and work hard, together, for these last few weeks. Show me that you care about the process. Let's strengthen your wings and get you to soar. What do you say? You guys in?

Yours,
Emily

Annual family pictures

Each October, as I run around in a panic to get my kids Halloween costumes and make spooky themed snacks for their school, I remember that Christmas is right around the corner and we need to get new family pictures taken.

For the past three years we've asked our friend Laurie to take the photos for us and each year I'm so so happy with what she is able to capture.

Here are some of the pictures that didn't make our holiday card.

When I asked Ruby how she got to be so good at posing she said, "ballet."

I'd like to point out that up to this point she has taken 5 days of ballet lessons. Can you imagine what proper weekly lessons would do?

Maia is just as adorable, but more reserved now that she's a big first grader. It's crazy to see how much her face is changing with those grownup teeth coming in.

Andover and Wichita are paving an old railway trail that runs east and west for about ten miles or so. It's a great place for pictures, but in my opinion, is also greatly improving the quality of life here. We have desperately needed more outdoor walking paths in this city.

Aleks handles all the women in his life so well.

Shortly after this Ruby started crying because Maia was squeezing her hand too hard. Big sisters are the worst (writes a big sister).

Happy Fall y'all!

Snapshots

I'm finding myself sitting with Aleks watching the Democratic debates and while I care very much about the world I live in, I'm not as passionate about politics as my husband. So, I think I'll use this time to catch up on the blog and share a few recent moments from our lives.

1. The girls had dentist appointments two weeks ago and Maia ended up with a hygienist who probably hates children. She scrapped the tartar off of Maia's teeth without much concern for the ongoing whimpering. She also didn't seem to care that Maia was gagging because she didn't like the taste of the toothpaste. The only thing that would calm her was Ruby's hand.

During that trip, I managed to bang my thigh on the corner of the hygienists desk because I was embarrassingly sore from working about a few days earlier. wearing heels, and hadn't had my usual amount of coffee. It's been ten days and the bruise has now faded to green and yellow, but there is still a rather hard lump beneath the skin.

At least the girls have sparking, clean teeth and no cavities!

2. My mom was here to watch the girls while Aleks and I went to Maryland for the Ironman. Womp womp. We didn't go. So instead we went to the zoo and enjoyed a beautiful day outside.

3. This past weekend we participated in Wichita's Buddy Walk to honor our friend Blake. We love this family and are so glad they moved to Wichita!

4. Tonight is the last night of our Fall Break. While it was short, it was surprisingly refreshing. Aleks and I went out 2 nights in a row (!), I took several naps, and Ruby got to watch Spooky Buddies. It was just what we needed to get through the rest of the semester.

5. Maia has continued to take piano lessons this year in a more formalized manner. It's an ongoing exercise in focus and discipline for her, but she's really starting to make progress. She joined me on Sunday for a prelude piece.

The girls are growing in leaps and bounds. Already the toddlers years are a distant memory and I'm amazed to find myself with school age children. Ruby is continuing to express her opinions, but in a way that makes you want to be around her. She still gives the best hugs of anyone in the family. Maia is as talkative and excitable as ever, while make gradual steps toward maturity. She is motivated by success and likes to do well in school. I love to watch my daughter's friendship develop. My heart soars when I see the two of the whispering together.

Aleks' life has slowed down a bit since training for the Ironman has ceased. He's still busy with work, but he loves it and is good at what he does.

After a rough start to the semester, I'm beginning to find contentment and a better balance of the many roles I play. My outlook has considerably changed now that I'm able to more regularly workout.

Fall always reminds me of places we've lived, like Connecticut and it's outrageous foliage or Washington and the delicious apple varieties locally available. October in Wichita is funny. Some days are crisp, but every now and then we'll have a day where we are back in t-shirts and flip flops. Soon we'll be able to pull out our sweatshirts and the hot humid summer evenings will be a memory.

Ironman Maryland

He's been training for a year. Over the past few months he'd get up at 5 to get a workout in, coming back to the house around 7:30, then leaving a half hour later for work. On the weekends he'd be gone from 6-2ish either riding his bike or running.

Gatorade and Cliff Bars and Gu are now called nutrition in our house. We have near empty bottles of Tri Glide laying around the bathroom. Aleks' arms have an impressively dark tan line from his biking jersey. Even more impressive are his smooth, muscled legs thanks to a waxing session we had the other night.

He's had sleepless nights. Nervous stomach issues. He's been doing positive visualizations of the race day.

The past two weeks I've spent getting ready to be gone this weekend; canceling lessons, preemptively making up lessons, getting a sub for my church gig. My mom is flying in today, which means she also cleared out her busy work schedule.

I cleaned my car, mowed the front and back yards, made sure the towels and bed sheets are clean. I washed our laundry and did menu planning for the weekend. I also made sure to clip the girls' fingernails and toenails before I head out of town.

Check. Check. Check.

This Ironman thing is an entity on its own. To see my husband finish the race just seems surreal. It consists of a 2. 4 mile swim, 112 mile bicycle ride, and a 26.2 run. I can hardly believe my husband is attempting this: the man who couldn't ride his bike for 8 miles without throwing up when we were in grad school. (We did live in a hilly area...)

Not only am I impressed by his fitness, but more so the discipline he's shown over the past year. All this training has not been easy. I know that there were many many times he would have rather dealt with whiny, over-tired kids than go for a run. It's taken an emotional toll on him and the family as well. He has told me that he knows how is training has affected the family and that he feels guilty for the sacrifices we've all had to make this year.

That guilt is unnecessary. The girls and I could not be prouder of the work he's done to get to this place. It has been a wonderful thing for our kids to see. And while it has made things harder for me, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love seeing my husband set goals and work hard to meet those goals. I will never resent the journey we've been on this year.

Yesterday Aleks headed to the airport to fly to Maryland. An hour before the flight he called me saying that the race had been cancelled due to the approaching hurricane.

It was cancelled.

Not happening.

Money, time, single parent weekends, flashed before my eyes.

Training. Money. Time.

Cancelled.

It just kind of leaves a person speechless.

So, here we are, picking up the pieces of our weekend, trying to recoup as best we can. Figuring out what the next step is.

Aleks said in the history or Ironman races, only 2 others have been cancelled. I'm sure the race directors are reeling much more than we are. And it was the right choice to make. There is no need to put anyone in unnecessary danger.

The race might be rescheduled for later in October. Or they might open up other spots in different Ironman races.

Nothing definite has been decided.

Mentally Aleks and I are both done. We were ready to complete this thing and get back to "normal" life.

He's not sure what he's going to do just yet. I'd love to see him do the race and feel a sense of closure after all of his hard work. We'll see.

Saturday is his birthday. That day was also the day of the race. It's going to look a lot different than we had planned.

I plan to celebrate. We're going to celebrate the man that Aleks is and for how he contributes and completes this family. And we're going to celebrate all the training that he's done this past year. We may have to hold off on the medal and tattoo, but I cannot believe that this past year has been in vain.

There is just as much value in the journey as in the finish.

Maybe I'll have to get him a medal anyway.

Memory, all alone in the moonlight...

While I was in Arizona last week I went through a box of old school papers my mom had saved. I only took pictures of about 5 percent of the material, there were so many papers!

Here's a picture of my kindergarten class. 

After reading some of the work from that year, I'm pretty sure I was in a bilingual class. I wish some of the Spanish had stuck!

Aleks thinks I should have been seeing a therapist after seeing this artwork. I don't know, it think it's pretty normal for a elementary school kid. Since my name is in cursive, I'm guessing it's from sometime between 3rd or 5th grade.

Also, roller skating. Apparently it was a big deal as it was a reoccurring theme throughout my writings from that age.

I found a journal I had written from when I was nine. It's pure gold people.

"But cats are cute so I don't know." Hey, I've always been open to learning and exploring different opinions!

"I'm not pretty, does that mean I have to be pretty?" Here we can trace the beginning of my feministic slant.

I found this piece about the '89 earthquake. I was eight at the time.

I found this poem and it's not clear as to whether it's something I wrote. I feel like if I did, I was a child prodigy and should have been published.

Or maybe the assignment was to copy it from a book and I just forgot to cite the author. In which case, I was a childhood plagiarist.

Either way, it's a great poem.

This is from a short fictional story I wrote when I was in middle school. At the risk of sounding pretentious, I found myself impressed at the detail and writing craft. It's a good story. I might loan you a complete copy if you ask nicely.

I'm pretty sure this was printed on a dot matrix printer.

It was surprisingly exciting and invigorating to read through all my old papers. It wasn't painful at all. I thought that I might be sucked into a vortex of self loathing, but really, I was an interesting kid. I'm sure my teachers told stories about some of the things I wrote.

One of my high school students told me about a podcast called "Grownup Read Things They Wrote as Kids." I have yet to check it out, but apparently I'm not the only one who thinks their kid version was pretty funny.