No Easier the Second Time Around

I took piano lessons for ten years as a kid. We've had our two oldest girls in piano lessons for seven months now. No likey back then. No likey now.

The girls are enrolled in a fabulous program. The way it works is they participate in group lessons until they reach a certain level and then move onto private lessons. A parent attends the group lessons with them (guess which one of us gets that lucky job) and it's my responsibility to make sure they stay on task and know what's going on. I love the way this place teaches piano--it covers theory, composition, transposing, dictation, ear training...everything. There are no holes and everything is taught at a decent pace. I'm amazed at how much my kids can do after just seven months.

I might love the way the program is set up, but my nerves on the implementation end are a bit shaky. Most nights the group lessons push me to my limits. I have one child who rushes to be the first at everything, persists in invading my personal space while we're sitting in a circle on the floor, and who insists on playing her keyboard while the teacher is talking. I have another child who checks out and pays a visit to dreamland, which leaves her a constant step or two behind...resulting in tears this week. By the time I get home, I find myself in a frantic search for some Calgon and a nice strong drink of ice water.

So it was especially nice when I came home from piano lessons this week to have my husband greet me at the door, looking all doctor-ish in his scrubs. I followed his lead in glancing into the bathroom at the end of the hall only to see my three-year-old standing naked on the rug while he casually stated, "Your timing couldn't have been better." Apparently he got called into work just as Meg decided to poop in the tub and he anxiously made his way out the door. Lovely.

In place of a bath and a drink (which I wouldn't have gotten anyway), I cleaned up a messy kid and helped her get nice and cozy in her favorite Christmas jammies. Then I hunched over the tub to begin my job there...I had just begun when Brita came running upstairs to tell me she needed help with the shower head in the shower downstairs. She wanted me to adjust the shower head a bit and I did so, but with a little difficulty. The hand shower popped off and I was drenched on one side of my whole body from my hair to my waist. I turned around to see that Meg had followed me and she had also fallen victim to the crime.

Let's just say when Jared came home about thirty minutes later and wondered if we had read scriptures yet, the answer was NOT "yes dear." And I was absolutely certain that there was some crazy correlation between piano lessons and the night's chaos.

Nope. I've decided round two is not easier than round one. What ruined my life "back then" somehow still manages to ruin everything.

And yet, the lessons will continue. I just hope we're done with the post-piano pooping episodes.