15 years!

I'm sure most of the people at our wedding thought we were too young to be getting married. Some family members and friends had told us their opinions outright. Some kept it to themselves. But there were also a few in attendance who believed that we knew what we were doing.

I remember crying as I walked down the aisle (and throughout my vows), not because I was sad or anxious, but instead, overcome with the magnitude of it all. As a result, there are no pictures of me in that moment. I'm not a pretty crier.

I remember an epic toast by my maid of honor Erin who, perfectly balancing humor and love, convinced a few of those doubters that we'd be ok.

(my dad married us *inset heart eyes emoji*)

As my college roommate for 3 years, Erin and I knew each other in ways only roommates can know one another. In particular, and lucky for her, she was aware of my self-diagnosed disorder: P.F.A., otherwise known as Public Farting Anxiety. I refuse to pass gas in front of other people, to the point of causing myself discomfort.

As Erin shared my disorder at our reception with our closest friends and family, she went on to tell about a night I returned home from a date with Aleks. I came into her room and said, "I think he's the one. I farted in front of Aleks tonight."

And here we are, celebrating 15 years of marriage.

Aleks, you're still my favorite person. I hold you in highest esteem, respect you and your opinion, and am constantly overwhelmed by the way you father our children. Actually, I'm not sure we knew what we were doing 15 years ago, because I didn't love you a fraction of what I do now.

There is no better partner for me.

Thank you for being the kind of man who encourages me to let my farts out.

Eight Years Old

She now takes her own shower, followed by a blow dry and straight iron session.

When I wore a fashionably questionable pair of pants, at which both Aleks and Maia wrinkled their noses, Ruby's opinion was the one that convinced me to put them in the give away pile.

The other morning Ruby was particularly tired and asked me for a cup of coffee.

She makes a lot of her own food now: hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, slices cheese for cheese and crackers.

She sleeps with a weighted blanket and wears noise canceling headphones.

She loves Isabelle more than anything and just wants to cuddle and hug that poor dog all day long.

She's a girl with big emotions; as quick to laugh and hug as she is to be impatient and snap. When she wants, she is good at understanding the emotions of others and tending to their needs.

Ages 2 1/2 to 4 1/2 were dicey, at best. But, my oh my, what a delight and joy this girl is to our family and all those who know her.

I suspect we'll always need to encourage her to find ways to manage her anxiety and sensitivity, but watching her continue to grow and mature is an exciting privilege.

Seven was magical. I'm so excited to see what eight will bring.

4 things you should know about your child's music lessons and their teacher

I've been a music teacher for almost 20 years. It's a fulfilling career in so many ways: at the forefront is the connection created with other humans through music making. However, as with any job that involves a service of some sort, we rarely think of the human being behind the service we receive.

Here are four (and a half) things to consider that will help your music teacher feel like a valued member of society.

1. Your initial interaction tells us a lot about how lessons are going to go.
Here's a message I received the other day requesting voice lessons:

Hello! I heard through (...) that you give voice lessons.. she mentioned that you may be full until January, but I wondered if it would be possible to be put on your list of students then? Thanks (...)

You may read this and think, what's the big deal? First problem, this was sent on FB messenger, from someone I do not know, nor do I really know the person from whom she received the reference. If you google my name, my website will pop up as the first hit. I have spent considerable time designing and creating content for this site, and I even pay an annual fee! On this website there is copious information about my teaching philosophy and policy. There is also a place to send an email.

A random FB message indicates your level of interest and commitment. Think about it. Would you FB message a new doctor to get an appointment? Or realtor? Or chiropractor?

A further problem with this lesson request is the lack of context. Are the lessons for you or your child? Have you had lessons before? Why do you want to take lessons? All this information, when included at first contact tells us that you have given thought as to why you want music lessons and are interested in finding a good fit.


2a. Even though music lessons are a hobby for your student, they are your teacher's work.
Yes, we love what we do. Yes, we are lucky to be able to make music all day. However, it is still a job. I've received many comments over the years from parents who off-handedly comment on the luxury of my non-tradional work hours, or intimate that I'm soooo lucky to play piano all day, all of which are not meant to be demeaning, but undermine the craft and effort that underlie my profession.


2b. Late payments mean your teacher may not be able to pay their bills.
Chances are, your music teacher makes their living giving lessons. Even though you may view lessons as non-essential, they provide the bread and butter for your teacher.


3. You student is not entitled to music lessons.
Music lessons are intense. They are one on one. You or your student is being asked to think critically. It's hard work. It's also incredibly rewarding and fulfilling. If you approach lessons expecting to be spoon fed, constantly praised, and micro-managed, you are doing yourself and your teacher a disservice.


4. We music teachers are your biggest fans.
I get to see many of my students more often than they get to see their grandparents. I come to know their lives and hear about the challenges and joys they experience each week. I get to see growth and vulnerability. Music teachers are some of the most generous, supportive, loving people I know. We're in this business because we like connecting with other humans and communicating through music. And there is nothing more exciting to us than seeing our students thrive in all ways, big or small.


While music lessons aren't an essential service, they are undoubtedly essential to functional humanity and I'm grateful to be a contributor.

New Roles

It's the last week of August. The kids have been in school for 2 weeks and I'm finally starting to recover from our long, intense summer.

Headed into fall, we are all trying on new roles. Aleks is the new Director of the School of Music at WSU. This new position is something he wanted quite a lot and for which he is very well suited. As his partner, it's exciting and fun to watch him overcome challenges and put into practice so many of his leadership skills.

Maia is now a 4th grader. She is taking on more responsibility by singing in an extracurricular choir, continuing with piano lesson, and taking acro jazz. There is more responsibility and independence in her classroom this year and we're working to expand that into our home life as well.

Ruby is in 2nd grade. She just started competitive soccer and is getting adjusted to the intensity of practices and games. Turns out, I'm one of those parents who yells a lot from the sidelines. And it turns out I know nothing about soccer. After a summer of violin lessons, she's back into piano and showing marked maturity about practicing so far.

For many different reasons (a major one being Aleks' new job which demands more traditional work hours) I have stepped into the role of CEO of household management. After two weeks of stay-at-home work, I am once again struck with what a luxury it is to have a partner who is able to manage all the household affairs. Of course, because I'm me, I'm still working 3 other part time jobs, but I've reduced my private teaching by about 2/3, which leaves me more time to take care of the family.

Now that I have time, one of the things I've taken over are the interactions with our insurance agent, contractor (we're remodeling our bathroom, but more on that another time), piano tuner, auto mechanic, etc.

Which leads me to say: salesMEN of Wichita, y'all are going to have to figure out a different way to interact with this strong, independent woman. Your "hey there little lady" mentality is not going to cut it. And when I call you for clarifications on policies, I am not a "deeply concerned woman." Rather I'm an intelligent customer who is irritated that she has to take time out of her day to get clarification on a matter that should have been explained during our hour long meeting last week. And when I'm matter of fact on the phone and don't want to chat about nonsense, I'm not angry or rude, I've just got stuff to do.

Is this a midwest thing? I don't feel like I was treated this way other places I've lived...

Now that I'm not drowning in work, I'm hoping to resume some of my creative projects. One of them includes writing here on a more consistent basis. Another is that I'm hoping to record another season of our podcast, "What Makes."

I hope your fall is off to a good start and that whether you're working in the home or outside the home, you are finding time to be creative and fulfilled!

Summer is here!

My brother has a theory that everyone’s earliest memory involves a traumatic or negative experience.

In my first memory, I’m lying on the bathroom floor at my grandparents’ house in Castro Valley, CA. My head is on the shag rug and I can see the pink porcelain bathtub out of the corner of my eye. My mom is changing my diaper, so I couldn’t have been much older than two. 

My mom was one of the original hippies who made her own bread with whole wheat, fed us carob instead of chocolate, and owned moon shoes at one point. She and my dad were strong supporters of the public library and the only TV we were allowed to watch was a half hour of Mr. Rogers. On occasion, we could watch a half hour of Sesame Street as well, but only if dinner was taking longer to cook than intended. We were cloth diaper kids. 

On this day, however, I was in a disposable diaper.

I distinctly remember a sharp pain as the diaper was pulled from my inner thighs to be removed and seeing red marks where the edges had been cutting into my tender toddler legs. And I remember thinking “my thighs are too fat for this diaper.”

At two years old, I was ashamed of my body.

Even though my house was absent of a strong media presence, I grew up aware that my large, unconventional body was not ideal and tried to hide it behind baggy clothes. 

Visits to the doctor’s office, where my weight was spoken about in hushed, concerned tones, didn’t help. 

I struggled with body image throughout adolescence and young adulthood. I dieted and exercised and binged and counted points and bought a Fitbit and dieted some more. Four years into my marriage and during graduate school, I lost forty pounds, dyed my hair blonde, and for the first time in my life felt a modicum of self-confidence.

Soon after I became pregnant with our oldest daughter and 17 months later had her sister. Needless to say, I gained back those 40 pounds and then some.

Very early on, my husband and I agreed that we needed to be very careful about how we talked about our own bodies in front of our children. No “I’m so fat” comments or disdainful pinching of flabby areas.

When we first moved to Kansas, the girls were one and two. Unaccustomed to the hot, humid summers here, we sought refuge at the YMCA water parks. Each trip I found myself carrying the baby on a hip and chasing after the toddler with fake self-assuredness as my white, dimpled, post-partum body was on display for all of greater Wichita. Inside I was embarrassed and mortified, but I would be damned if I remained hot and sweaty one second longer.

And thus, a tradition was started. Each summer we get hot and sweaty and find ourselves headed to the Y for a swim. Every year the girls get older and taller and pretty soon I won’t need to get in the pool with them. Which is pretty ironic, since I have finally made peace with this strong, capable body of mine.

I’m not sure I can pinpoint when exactly the change occurred. Maybe it was the decrease in negative talk after my girls were born. Maybe it’s that now I care more about creating memories and experiences than meeting a superficial standard.

Or maybe it’s that I finally see myself through my daughters’ eyes.

A few summers ago, we all went swimsuit shopping. The three of us were crowded into the changing room and my daughters “helped” by taking all the suits off the hangers. As I began this dreaded process, my underwear poked out the bottom of each possibility, creating weird, extra folds on my thighs and belly. Some of the tops were a bad fit and the fluorescent lights accentuated the rolls cascading down my back.

And yet, with each new suit I tried, my girls would exclaim “that looks so pretty!” or “oooooo, so fashionable!” Their comments were pure and honest and they didn’t see the flaws that I was so quick to fixate upon.

What a gift I was given that day.

I have these two beautiful, precious girls who will undoubtedly have their own complicated relationships with their bodies. But for now, I’m doing my best to help them love who they are, bodies and all. I try to provide nutritious foods and encourage lots of physical play. I try not to comment on how they look, rather praise them for what their bodies have helped them accomplish, such as running fast, or doing a straight-legged cartwheel. 

My girls are now 7 and 9 and I’m very aware that lots of physical changes are coming our way. I know there will lots of struggles and a huge learning curve as we navigate puberty. But, one things I know for certain: we’ll keep having fun swimming together this summer and for many summers to come.

Another school year in the books

It's the last day of the school year!

I'm sure teachers are looking at summer vacation with visions of bathroom breaks whenever they need them, reading for pleasure, and later bedtimes.

I'm sure my kids are looking at summer vacation with visions of afternoons at the pool, frozen yogurt for dinner, and endless play time.

I'm looking at the summer months a bit more realistically. I'm sure the girls will be asking for snacks every 30 minutes and I know there will be significant amounts of bickering in the beginning. However, I'm also looking forward to hanging out with my girls, saying yes as much as possible, and reconnecting as a family.

(Side note, both my kids bought recorders at the music store yesterday, so there's that...)

This year has been so good for Ruby. I've seen her grow in confidence and bravery. I'm most proud of the way she faced some anxiety filled events and proved to herself that she is capable of doing really hard things.

(She's upset at me this morning because her teacher said not to bring anything in their backpacks today, but I put her lunch in there. We're not sure about the hot lunch situation on this last day, so I decided we should play it safe and send one. This is a perfect example of her tendency toward anxiety.)

Maia also had a great year. She's grown emotionally and is starting to form real friendships with some kids at school. She was a classroom representative on Student Council and we saw her demonstrate a real passion for this job.

At the end of this school year, more than ever, I see the age difference between my girls. Maia is starting to think about puberty and is dealing with more social conflicts than in the past. Ruby is still a "little" girl and always wants Maia to play catch or Life or dolls. More often than not, Maia would rather spend time alone.

They are so close in age, they've always been built-in playmates. The dynamic has shifted a bit and we'll all be figuring out how to navigate this new place.

I'm picking up the girls today from school so that we can give their teachers a small token of our gratitude. I'm feeling the loss that comes at the end of a chapter. I'm so enormously grateful to the women who shepherded their classrooms this year. They held my girls in kindness and love, while keeping them to high standards.

These women saw my kids more than I did some weeks and there are not adequate words to describe my gratitude for their commitment to helping raise smart, responsible, kind kids.

Cheers to the start of summer!

Change is coming!

It's my first day off in weeks. I just put a tray of sugar cookie bars into the oven. A treat for the girls, and the time to make them, a treat for me. The whole family has been limping toward the end of the semester, trying to stay just enough ahead so as to not let anything fall between the cracks.

It's a busy time of year for everyone and I know we're not the only ones feeling the spring burn.

About a month ago, I wrote a rather ambiguous post about transitions and finding contentment in uncertainty. What I couldn't say at the time, was that Aleks was a finalist for a position as the director for the school of music at Belmont University in Nashville, TN.

At the same time, we also found out that he was a finalist for the position as the director for the school of music at Wichita State University.

Against our better judgement, we feverishly browsed  Zillow, looking for houses in the Nashville area. I researched schools and neighborhoods, and CrossFit gyms. I mentally made lists of things to pack up first and how to get the house ready to sell.

We gave the girls a heads up and started conversations about what it might feel like to go to a new school.

I felt weepy some days, thinking about leaving the things that have been good for us. Ruby's piano teacher, the girls' elementary school, dear friendships, the simplicity of a smaller town, the general familiarity.

And I felt giddy other days thinking about the things I could leave behind.

Just as the busyness of my SHE promotion was amping up, we found out that Belmont had gone with a different candidate and that same week, Aleks was offered the position at WSU.

The girls shrieked with happiness when we told them the news.

Aleks is very excited about this new job. Since he's worked there for awhile, he understands the culture of the school and its challenges and strengths. He is a skilled leader with an enthusiastic vision for its potential. He is eager to use his position of power to give a voice to minorities and women. It's not going to be easy, but he's going to do a wonderful job and he's ready to dig in.

And as for me. Many of you know that I struggle living here in a place that is so very different from where I grew up.

During my trip to Pullman for SHE promotion, I had the opportunity to see some friends. One wise friend, in talking about her own experience, said "I can be happy anywhere." Really? I asked. Sure, she said with a smile and shrug of her shoulders.

Maybe it was the quiet confidence, or the shrug, but I clearly saw her happiness as a choice, something firmly in her control.

That conversation, coupled with my recent premature mourning of good Wichita things led to this conclusion; I don't need to wait until we move to make my life what I want it to be. Those things I was sad about leaving? I'm going lean into those. And the things I was so eager to leave behind? I can do something about them now.

And so.

Next year is going to look different for all of us. I'm going to teach less. I will be reducing my studio from 35 to 10 (hopefully 8). I will no longer be working on the weekends.

I'll be leaning into a more traditional stay at home role as Aleks won't have the same flexibility to help with the girls in this new position. I'm happy and eager to do this, it's something I'm pretty good at, actually.

I'm going to spend this year recharging my creative battery. I'm so burned out. It's going to feel really weird and it's going to be hard, but I hope that I'm a little bored so that new ideas and inspiration will have room to bud and grow.

It's such a process isn't it? I don't have it all figured out just yet, but I'm committed to keep working at it.

Ah! The bus is here! I'm ready to give my girlies their treat.