Cecilia would like to try out for districts this year and continue with the jazz band. Both of these require practice and auditions above and beyond the regular school band.
Practice and the summer… sort of oil and water. Something is better than nothing. The longer the time frame for results, the less you need intensity and the more you need consistency.
I’m trying to be more mellow about daily to-do’s whether that is my own writing or Cecilia’s trombone time and fall back on the parenting rule that if you want results from your kids the best bet is to model the behavior yourself.
Consistency isn’t simply willpower, which comes and goes. Consistency is doing it when you don’t feel like doing it. If both girls learn that lesson, they’ll be okay in whatever they choose to do.
The girls are both old enough now where their traits, dispositions, and temperaments are more formed. As a Dad, I am less inclined to shrug it off as a phase. I also have to confront the fact that the girls will not be exactly like me. (Except for the Yankees thing. I won’t bend on that.)
They will not make the same choices or walk the same path. They might (and likely will) make decisions and do things that will baffle me. But that’s okay. Maybe that’s for the best. I was a conformist kid that looked to fit in. And I did a pretty good job. I loved my flash cards. School and tests were a natural second language. But there are certainly more ways to contribute in this world than the easiest, most obvious, and most traditional ways.
But not everyone is built that way and as a Dad, I need to protect and guard against the girls feeling any shame about that. In fact, I often look back and regret I didn’t make bolder or less expected choices. Risk and I are not on a first name basis.
Some are meant to be artists. Some are meant to be quiet, solitary geniuses. Some are meant to be extroverts or iconoclasts. Some are meant to be late bloomers.
There are so many ways to make a difference in this world. As a Dad, my job is to help them by being who they were meant to be…and nothing else.
We drove down to the Cape Friday night and Ally sang along to her favorite music the whole way. Even while wearing headphones, she can’t resist a full-throated chorus. She also currently has very questionable taste in music. Which is completely fine. Taste and appreciation largely come from time and experience. I’m careful not to completely betray my feelings (at least up until the 14th consecutive playing of Geronimo or The Village People). I believe my job as a Dad is to encourage and let them roam (sort of like raising sheep dogs) and look for opportunities to help their taste expand and grown.
When Cecilia was selected for the jazz band last year, I would occasional slip on a Coltrane track when she wasn’t paying attention.
When Ally started singing and composing on the piano, I played her a song Lorde wrote at 16 and we put GarageBand on her phone.
When their interests and my interests intersect, we get those special opportunities to connect and share together. This past week at Dad Camp, I put their arts and crafts enthusiasm to good use as we built a small outdoor brick oven and cooked some pizzas for dinner. Even though there was no glitter or glue stick involved in the masonry, I hope that’s a day they remember.
Telling time with a pre-schooler revolves mostly around a few very personal things. Is it a school day or home day? Is it time to watch a show? Is it time to eat dessert? That’s pretty much it, at least with our Allison.
So we made a cardinal parenting mistake when we mentioned that one of her best friends from school would be coming to the beach house and SLEEPING OVER. It was like Christmas, a musical, a Full House marathon and the Easter Bunny wrapped up into one.
Only this vague, nebulous future date was too hard to comprehend and hardly a day passed when she didn’t ask if today was the day we went to beach house with her friend. We had to say no and crush her sprit for many days, but finally…finally this weekend we were able to say yes. Today was the day.