Make Some Joyful Noise!

My oldest son, Mason, is moved by music. He doesn't just like music. He doesn't just even Love music. Music is in him...in a way that is pretty difficult to describe. But I understand it. He's like me, and my father.

Mason doesn't walk pass an instrument of any kind without wanting to touch it and learn how it works. And, with just a little time he figures it out. His drumming skills are so good that he makes two crayons and upsidedown plastic cup sound fabulous. I even bought him a drumkit for his birthday. My mother still thinks I am crazy. But he had created a drumkit out of plastic "stuff" he found around the house, and really it was time for an upgrade to support his talents. Frankly, he needs another upgrade soon to a full-sized kit. He's that good at only eight years old. And, keep in mind, he has yet to have a single lesson. He also is teaching himself bass and guitar. He even has a special rare guitar style which is essentially a hammering technique on the strings instead of mere strumming. But it's very specific and notation is non-existant for this style. (I did locate and contact another who uses this style---a grown man in Scotland named POL http://polarida.com/ who has been helpful to encourage Mason in this style that they both believe they each invented.) So since the notation is not there, Mason made up his own notation. Yep. He just figured out a way to notate things and did it. You'll also hear this type of hammering technique in one particular scene in a movie called "August Rush". Mason owns this movie now.

There is one day last winter that I'll never forget in my entire life: the day we all went to see the movie "August Rush" in a second run theatre nearby our home. Mason really wanted to see the movie after seeing a preview where he heard Freddie Highmore's character say "I believe in Music like some people believe in Fairy Tales". He looked at me and said "That's just like me, Mom." And sure enough, watching that movie I saw more and more that was like my little man. They somehow extracted the essense of my little guy and I sat watching him on screen.

Now, don't get me wrong, this is not the best movie that ever was made or anything. However, for anyone drawn to music like Mason, or myself (I relate here because I am much like him this way--although he's a much better percussionist than I ever have been), you can overlook the sappy predictable parts and revel in the rest of the film~~the part of the movie that just celebrates and gets wrapped up in the joy of making music, hearing music and loving music from somewhere deep inside yourself.

Music is a communication, like any art form. And this movie does a nice job of showing that anything at all can become music, depending on the openmindedness of the listener. A dribbling basketball can be the carrying drum beat; scuffling shoes can add another layer; trickle of water; beep of horns; whistles of wind; and songs of everything around thrown together can be music or noise depending on how we choose to listen to it.

Sometimes it gets hard being home with three little kids who already bored with summer vacation and are winding up the dog or the 6 cats (yes you read correctly---six.... an adoption of a cat in February turned out to be an adoption of an already pregnant cat so I played midwife in April), and squabbling with each other or squealing in delight. These sounds...how should I hear them? Noise or Music? Someday not too far away I'll be sitting around with kids all gone off doing their things, or full-grown living on their own. It will be very quiet then. Will I be wishing I could hear some of that Music? I am not the Mom who cries at the bus when the kids went off to their first days of school. But somehow, I know I'll wonder why I yelled "QUIET" quite so often. I'll think of this the next time I open my mouth with that intent. Maybe I'll make some noisy music right along side them instead.

He Reads! He Adds! Able to Leap from Tall Buildings in a Single Bound! But....

Noah reads like a champ. He can read just about anything. They haven't really taught him any reading yet in school, apart from some sight words, but I know I learned to read on my own when I was four and he started to learn when he was 5. He picked up the “Sally, Dick and Jane” book I purchased to teach Katherine to read when she was in 1st grade, and he read from the first page to page 25 before stopping on his first attempt. He had listened to his brother practice by my side already earlier that day, but an impressive absorption anyway. By 6 years old, he could read as well as any 1st grader. And his math skills are above par as well. Next school year should be interesting because academically, he'll do well. But there won't be much to teach him.

The challenge will be in Noah learning and accepting a new system. He really likes the system he used for the past two years with the same teacher. He is big on doing things in a very set order. Any slight deviance and he freaks out. By “freaks out” I mean something very close to Dustin Hoffman’s reaction in “Rainman”. There are tears and usually scream-crying. He doesn’t hear others easily then. I am not sure what a new way of doing things will do to him, but he'll have to adjust. Each year of school a new system will happen. Noah has the First grade teacher that Mason had. You can bet I'll be keeping a tight watch on how he is doing on a weekly basis whether the teacher likes it or not. No surprises at the end of the year this time around.

I do have some concerns with Noah's behavior quirks. When he was 2 and 3 they were still in the normal range. When he hit age 4, they were still ok for a male child, who often tend to develop that portion of social and adaptation skills later than females. But by 5 and 6 some of these things are just no longer typical. I have zero concerns with his academic ability. I wouldn't be surprised if he was tested and it was found that he was at genius level. However, he makes no attempt to have friends. He seems completely oblivious to that. He will play with kids if they ask to play (or come get him). Kids like him because he does whatever they want usually. But if no one asks him to play, he won't seek anyone and most importantly, he won't even notice that kids are anywhere. He is in his "own world" so strongly that it is as if the outer world almost doesn't exist. Even at home, where he does feel his brother and sister are friends, he is lost in that world most of the time. He'll play with two corks for 2 hours straight (being very creative, which is a wonderful trait). It often requires repetitive shouts of his name to get any attention back into our world.

He's showing other unusual signs, for example: needing to step on certain color tiles in a store, even if it leaves him far behind. Noah doesn't want to be behind us and that fact upsets him, but he is reluctant to leave the tile pattern. It is almost like he cannot. He is very jumpy and does repetitive flipping motions (flipping his body around; like mini cartwheels). We tell him to stop, and finally he does. But in a few seconds he is doing it again, as if he totally forgot we asked for him to stop just moments before. His legs are (as they always have been) almost a solid line of bruises from mid thigh to ankle.

All of this is not good nor bad---it just is how he is, and I am keeping my eyes wide open because in first grade they will start making a higher degree of notation with such things because anything atypical is assessed and obsessed. Before school starts I'll bring all of this up with a new doctor I will be taking him to see (my own doctor who is really excellent and a DO so he tends to think in a way that incorporates more options). The up side here, he is sitting here for the past 30 minutes reading a level 3 book that Mason just learned to read at the end of his last school year and that was above benchmark for second grade reading. It has 32 pages and difficult words. It's the highest level that particular book company makes for young readers. However, Noah has insisted on reading this particular book each day at about noon for the past 4 days and sometimes a repeat at 8 or 9pm.

Scott notes these things as well but he is startled that they remind him so much of himself, except stronger in intensity. He first was saying it was very normal, but lately he's seeing more that maybe it's not as typical. Not that it is a bad thing, but schools today want all "normal" range children, cookie-cutter kids, with no exceptional or under par behaviors. Partly they are concerned with managing large classrooms. They are also greatly concerned with testing done in early third grade that evaluates how much money will go to the school for the year, based on expected performance of the students. They have no gifted programs anymore in Michigan schools (which is where our other kids and especially Noah would belong). They have only "resource" rooms where they try to fix any academic situations where the output is lower than potential and where the 3-5th grade testing efforts could be in jeopardy. Those are funded separately but they are smashed full with kids now compared to even a few years ago. It says a lot about what expectations are now: be a carbon copy of what they expect, or there is a problem.

We have three children and not one of them fits into the average box. I am very thankful for that, honestly. It will serve them a lot better in their lives, especially because they are all highly intelligent and creative. But for now, they are considered problems and so I fight for them. A lot of the parents who unexpectedly find themselves in this situation are frustrated too. As Shakespeare said, "There is something rotten in the state of Denmark."

Living for Today

I am someone who floats to her own tune. Wisping around wherever the wind takes me, depending on my current desire, is my norm. People who know me well understand, and appreciate this. Sometimes that means I can be found loving things current and new. Frequently, I am caught in the whim of enjoying vintage eras via music, or clothing items like my collection of 1920s-1950s silky slips. Sometimes I get wrapped up in artistic techniques from ancient times, like Chinese calligraphy and brush art. And, I have learned I can get caught up in enjoying foods made the old fashioned way.
I taught myself how to “can” (or preserve foods like the old grandmas used to) the first year we moved into our second house about 6 years ago. We had a lot more sun and land than in our first house, so we went a little crazy planting tomatoes and basil that summer. I love fresh tomatoes and can find ways to incorporate them into almost every meal, and being Italian I can make great homemade sauces, but we were still wildly overrun by the various tomatoes planted. That soil was rich and well watered. Romas, Big Boys, Early Girls, as well as several heirloom tomatoes like yellow pear tomatoes were rampantly growing. So I caught a whim and got the idea that I could learn to can things. I went out with the three little kids in tow (ages 5, 3, infant at the time) to the store and purchased the necessary supplies and taught myself this lost art. While I was at it, I made pesto with the excessive basil and canned that too. From there I quickly moved to jams and jellies, and that is where I found a lot more creativity. Plus, kids can get excited about things with 7 cups of sugar in them.
There are farms and orchards located minutes from our house (although less and less as subdivisions grow) so fresh fruits are plentiful. You can discover great stuff for low prices and if you, or your kids, smile and chat a bit with the farmers, they will be thrilled to show you the best picks and give you a deal. In these conditions it is hard to know when to stop creating tasty treats to enjoy all year long.
Today I spent most of the day making three batches of jams. The warm summer air was blowing through the windows, the kids were outside playing in a tent we set up last evening for their first no-grown-ups-allowed camp out, and I had the stereo cranked. I was chopping rhubarb, crushing strawberries, and dicing peaches to the beat of the music. I was having a great time mixing batches of Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam and Peach-Rhubarb Jam. All were delicious. I’ve never tried the rhubarb addition in jam and I don’t know what ever kept me from it before. I’ve always loved rhubarb, to nearly an addiction. And rhubarb in jams is amazing! As jams go, I’d go so far as to say it’s orgasmic. But then again, I introduced the two and performed the marriage rites, so I may be biased. All I know is that in January when I am still opening jars of that Peach-Rhubarb jam, I will taste the heart of summer in all its luscious stickiness.
Just a few days before this, Scott and the kids and I went to the local grocery store. Scott started smirking and referring to me as a “hippie”. I refused to buy non-biodegradable or phosphate filled laundry soap. He told me to go ahead and pick out my “hippie soap”. We live on a lake. Helping to not pollute it seems like a wise idea to me. Then we got to the freezer section and he asked if I needed anything in the “hippie section”….the Morningstar/Boca soy products that vegetarians and semi-vegetarians, like myself, enjoy. Dork. He was summarily tweaked on the buttocks as I viewed my choices.
Today making jam I noted my flowing silk wrap skirt, fitted camisole tank top, long hair up in a twist, barefooted Self. I started laughing. I was jamming, in food prep and in music, to the likes of The Doors, John Lennon and Carole King. With a peace filled smile, I was singing along and happily making jam that pretty much anyone else in my generation wouldn’t make on a dare, let alone voluntarily on a sunny summer Sunday.
So, perhaps I am a little bit of a hippie somehow. I am good with that. It was curious though. I was trying to figure where the influence came from. I knew it was certainly not from my parents. The closest to “hippie” they ever came was the Cat Stevens album they had, and mostly I listened to that one while sitting next to the speakers singing along to the words from the jacket. But I think my parents got that album from my Aunt Jacki.
Aunt Jacki was definitely a more likely influence, even though she wasn’t really a “hippie”. I remember when she only bought brown eggs from the food co-op and had no refined sugar in her house. Not even any chocolate! That fact freaked me out as a kid. Chocolate was important to me. She had a solution, she assured me. She had two actually: carob (gag) and something called, she said (with that exaggerated excitement reserved by adults to try to convince reluctant kids), “chocolate cheese”. I honestly can’t tell you today what that stuff was in reality. But it wasn’t cheese and it surely was not chocolate. It was almost the texture of rubbery fudge but made my throat burn. Ha! Still, Aunt Jacki was, and will remain all her life, a fun free-spirited influence. I have lots of that in my blood that I can thank her for and I’m happy about that.
Interestingly, it was my mom, however, who bought me my favorite toy of my entire childhood: The Sunshine Family complete with their A-Frame house. For anyone not familiar, the Sunshine Family was a happy little family living off the earth, fully sustainable, even with accessories to go set up their own stand at the local farmers market or food co-op. My favorite part was the pottery wheel. The spinning wheel was a close runner-up. I unsuccessfully tried spinning my cat’s hair from his brush into some sort of thread.
I hardly touched my stash of Barbie dolls who were all about fashion and humping GI Joe (well, my Barbies were, anyway). Reluctantly, I would sometimes do their hair. Mostly, my little brother like stripping them naked and breaking their legs to create a Boomerang Barbie that could make it clear over the house. It didn’t really come back to him, but it did catch great air.
In contrast, I could spend hours playing with parts and accessory packs to the Sunshine Family set. Partly, that is because they came with things to actually do. There were crafts and projects to do in “real life” with each accessory. Often they were about reusing other things you’d normally throw away in order to create things for the house and family so you didn’t have to buy them. Look at that--a major corporation was out there teaching kids how to Reduce, Reuse, Recycle back in 1978! I made a crib from popsicle sticks for the baby. I made most every piece of furniture in that little A-frame house from things from my own home. I thought it was the most beautiful furniture any doll could dream of desiring in the world. It was great to lose myself in a world that made sense to me, at a time when I watched in confusion at the dinner table the endless fighting in the world shown on the news each night.
Part of me finds myself daydreaming of having my own little real life Sunshine Family. The other part of me would be thrilled to be living in a big city. So for now, I am in the suburbs in the shadow of the second largest, and certainly one of the nicest, cities in Michigan. I’m wearing my hippie skirts, writing, painting, making my jam, finding my own way and singing out loud with John Lennon. I am happy and “living for today”.