"Jack's Shoes. . .

are here."

This email grabbed me when I went to the computer this morning. Our piano teacher wrote it brilliantly. The subject line of "Jack's shoes. . ." made me eager to read on, even though I anticipated the conclusion with embarassment. I admire her tact and brevity. One of the advantages and challenges of taking Suzuki piano is that the teacher gets to know the students, parents and any parenting issues very well. Yesterday when Jack began his lesson she reminded him to take his shoes home with him, wondering how many shoes we need to buy since he has left them several times before. As I pulled out of her driveway, she chased me with one of Luke's shoes. I thanked her and drove off, then had to stop again as she caught up with me to pass the other one through the window to Karina. In a matter of minutes I discovered that Jack had once again left his shoes behind, so I expected and dreaded the email.

How does a mother who seems to be meeting her children's higher needs by homeschooling them, practicing instruments with them, directing them in plays, and all the other things I try to do fail to keep shoes on their feet? The truth: my feet are the bare ones. I appear to have it all together if you don't look at the ground when you see me, where my feet fight against the heat, the cold, the slivers, and the shards of glass. I can't do it all, even with constant effort, and my children grow up with part of the education and part of the clothing I think they should have. Next time you see my family, look above the ankles if you want to see perfection, but don't forget that bare feet are lurking beneath.

On Accompanying

Karina and Katie performed in a voice recital Tuesday night with me accompanying them on the piano. My years of practicing and taking piano lessons have culminated in playing accompaniments, which thefreedictionary.com defines as "a vocal or instrumental part that supports another, often solo, part." If I do that job well, I will scarcely be noticed, I will follow the singer's lead and enhance the performance in an inconspicuous way. I have no time to sit back and enjoy the music. Last night several people told me Katie looked so enthusiastic while she sang, but I missed it, with my eyes on the score and my ears following her lead. What I gained was a feeling of involvement in the music, of losing myself for the benefit of another and finding my abilities strengthened in the process. I love supporting my daughters as they sing. A parent's most noble job, in my opinion, is to provide the support and the scaffolding her children need to climb to greater heights. This requires and enhances every ability I have gained in my life. Like my accompaniments on the piano, motherhood involves few times to relax and enjoy. The songs I am creating form only the background of my children's lives. However, I find purpose in supporting, a vocation suited to me for the present time, until I will once again be the soloist.

Harmony Between Sisters

Six hands at a single keyboard played Debussy's Clair de Lune, the pianists three sisters seated side by side. The gossamer melody wove tranquil threads and their hands crossed and uncrossed with perfect coordination; I couldn't always tell whose hand played which notes. While watching them I felt suspended in a web of music, cooperation, harmony, and peace within my reach, glistening like beads of dew on the silken strands. With sudden clarity I knew that this piece now represented for me the benefits of a strong family.

We went as a family to see the 5 Browns in Tacoma Saturday night. These five Mormon siblings, who all attended Juilliard simultaneously and now perform and record together, play orchestral pieces arranged for five pianos as well as duets, trios and solos. They engage audience members of all ages both by the way they play and by their quirky introductions for each piece that are personal and educational. While I loved the music, what I gained most was a sense of the worth of family, siblings especially. They performed together in a united way that I feel only siblings could, people who shared a childhood, parents, toys and everything else in the years identity and individuality emerge and begin to cement.

I have never played a piece at one piano with my two sisters. I do not play the piano as well as the 5 Browns and never will. I have, however, felt cooperation, harmony, and peace while working in the kitchen with my sisters. Tatiana and I spent one Thanksgiving morning baking an apple pie that had a top crust consisting of overlapping, individually cut out and etched pastry leaves. Another year at Christmas time we made chicken tamales. For her daughter's first birthday, Johanna and I wrapped individual chunks of cake in fondant, decorating them to look like alphabet blocks.

A couple of years later for her next daughter's birthday, we wreathed a cake with flower petals to look like a sunflower.

My sisters and I also share a dedication to home education. They (and my mother) are my greatest homeschooling resource because I still prefer a live person I can engage in conversation to any online support. We each have our individual approach. I am amazed by Tatiana's commitment to speaking only Spanish in her house a few days a week, resulting in a bilingual family. Johanna has a balanced, moderate approach I learn from as I struggle with my tendency to either try for the ultimate or do nothing. Even though our homes dot the west coast--Southern California, Northern California, Washington state--I feel that even now we share our lives in a way no one else can. We do not always get along perfectly (although it's been at least two decades since I can remember any friction with Johanna, who I know deserves all the credit for this feat). However, my memories of our time together are like an inviting porch welcoming me home, a place where I'm capable, understood, and loved.

I decided to have six children in part because I felt my daughters deserved to have two sisters. My own two sisters are irreplaceable, as we are three women with a shared childhood culture who are now mothers contributing to the culture of a new generation of children. As a group I might work with all my brothers and sisters as the 5 Browns did on five separate pianos, each playing their part and contributing to an orchestra of one instrument. It is a greater unity I visualize with my sisters and I as a trio harmonizing on one piano, our hands crossing each other, reaching towards the same goal. For our next family reunion I plan to suggest that we play a trio.

To see video clips from a 5 Browns concert, including Debussy's "Clair de Lune," visit their home page, http://www.the5browns.com/.

Scrubbing Dishes to Music

Computer-generated music sounds flat compared to music performed by people. While free from error, it lacks the variation and interpretation that is the foundation of artistry. The capacity to make mistakes and the capacity for excellence are linked, in my opinion. Since I am grateful for one, I must also be grateful for the other.

Last night we didn't have dinner as a family. A salesperson came over right at dinner time, disrupting our normal routine. It wasn't until I woke up this morning that I realized we never did dishes last night. Right now my kitchen has dirty dishes from yesterday evening and this morning that I am going to wash as soon as I finish typing. While I feel inadequate and that I have failed on my habit-making resolution, I am glad of the reminder that I am human. My mistakes might be my road to excellence if I persist, stronger in my resolve as a result.

I will listen to music as I scrub, realizing that while life frequently seems far too full of the mundane, we can hear the sublime instead if we are listening.