Signs of Growth

​The boys are aging, ever so slowly but with undeniable upward progress. 

James, who asked to borrow a tie for the orchestra concert that he attended last Friday, approached me confidentially the day after and told me that he really liked wearing some nice dress clothes and would it be possible to get him some more?

It was possible, and he has a blazer, a proper leather belt, and his very own striped silk tie heading his way. (Now he’ll need to learn how to tie it on his own.)

Owen continues to pound away at the piano as soon as he wakes up in the morning, as a formal part of his school day, and in an exploratory and informal manner whenever he passes it. I cherish no hopes of him going into music professionally—if anything, I’d try to steer him away from it. But it gives me undeniable pleasure to hear him picking out melodies he knows in increasingly difficult keys, to hear him making up basic left hand accompaniments to his ear tunes, and to be pushing further and further outside the lines of basic diatonic harmony.

And Felix is the most overtly resistant to growing up. He declared that he can’t read, he sucks his fingers defiantly, and he still carries Big George everywhere he goes. But he only plays the baby when he is with us. Increasingly he is the older kid who assists with looking after the small ones at church, and despite his best efforts to evade and stall from his schoolwork, he described cars that we pass on the highway with fanciful pronunciations of their license plates and a description of their gender (masculine, feminine, or neuter, depending on the sex of the driver) and number (singular or plural, depending on how many people are riding in the front seat.)

They are all looking very tall. 

A Farewell to Mint

Today is the end of a family institution. 

For the last ten years I've written a financial summary for us once a month, every month. I would login to mint.com, sort all of the data into the appropriate categories, and then type it up and send it to Julie. Mint was great. It was easy to use, intuitive, and free. 

For these reasons alone it was doomed. 

Intuit is discontinuing Mint and trying to move all of its users over to Credit Karma, which is not going to be particularly useful to us. We've been switching over (with some help from Excel-savvy friends) to homemade spreadsheet tracking over the first part of this year.

But it will be sad to no longer have the written financial summaries. There have been some gems over the years.

Apparently back in 2014 we needed to have a line item just for purchases of pens. But, then again, our entire monthly childcare expenses were only $25 back then.

There were student loan payments back then, and a running talley of how many months were left in each car payment.

There were some notably bad months. The header to the email for the August 2015 summary is:

"August Financial Summary (WTF)" (Life insurance due, car insurance, and several major home repairs)

It was apparently in 2016 that I started labeling trumpets as "Business Expenses" whenever I bought them.

I recognize many of the transactions, but some are completely bewildering. I have no idea what we would have spent $5 on at a Sears in 2017. (Did we run out of diapers in a semi-abandoned mall?)

I started to keep running percentages of a yearly budget on a month to month basis at some point during that year, but it must have been too much work--that was abandoned fairly quickly.

There are also a number of destruction related lines that I find as the kids get older. 

"Window replacement--James/baseball."

"Library book that Felix tore the pages out of."

"Treadmill repair visit which accomplished absolutely nothing."

But, to be fair, there aren't nearly as many of these as 

"Another piccolo trumpet mouthpiece that didn't work."

We'll miss you, Mint. You are a good reminder of when we used to buy diapers every month...

The Typewriter

 Meeting a new baby was fine and cool and good, but the REALLY exciting part of visiting Uncle Lucas and Aunt Melissa's house (for Owen) was discovering that Uncle Lucas owned several typewriters.

He was fascinated.

"Dad, I HAVE to have a typewriter. Will you please get me one?"

Remembering his relentless and incessant campaign for a harmonica I decided that I would set a specific and difficult-to-obtain bribe from the outset. 

"I think that only children who have read the entire Lemony Snicket 'Series of Unfortunate Events' are able to own typewriters."

"I'm on it. James, can you get me the first book the minute that we walk in the door?"

This was Sunday afternoon. Owen had decided several years ago that Count Olaf was too scary for him to read the Lemony Snicket books, and nothing that I said in their favor could change his mind. Now all of his objections were gone. He read them on the couch. He read them at the dinner table. He read them at bedtime, and he woke up early so that he could read them in the morning. He read them instead of his school books. He read them on on the beaches, and on the landing grounds, and in the fields. With growing confidence and strength he read them. 

On Wednesday morning he came down to breakfast and informed me that I owed him a typewriter. So I bought him one. You all are about to get receive a lot of letters.

He's been quiet all day except for an incessant click-clacking. He handed me this letter within five minutes of owning it. 

     dear dad

Thank you for this typewriter it is simply glamorus. Thank you for porposing this deal and thank yguo goodness porposing thjy   fit you make my life better in EVERY POSIBLE WAY!

LUV U

                                            LOVE

                                    Owen Nicholas Smith 

This personality shines through his prose. I'm reminded of when we first got the ipad and showed the kids how to message our phones.

(Messaging James)

J: James, how did your piano lesson go this morning?

iPad: Let's discuss this at a later time.

(Messaging Owen)

J: Owen, did you have a good piano lesson with Grandma?

iPad: <gif of dancing shirtless fat man>

it was SOOOOOO good i got 3 my songs checked of and a star

<sticker of a star-eyed unicorn vomiting a rainbow>

Given that the typewriter can't insert gifs or emojis I think that it will be a helpfully tempering influence on Owen as a correspondent...

Catch

 There are some February 10ths in which we spend the whole day going in and out of the garage, taking turns to shovel out the driveway because it is blizzarding and we need to keep the driveway clear. The snowplows keep on filling up our driveway apron, and you want to move all of the heavy stuff out before it freezes in place.

This year's February 10th almost hit 60 degrees. There were some patches of warmish rain, but for most of the day you could find some genuine yellow sunlight if you stood outside long enough.

I played catch in the backyard with the boys for an hour, and I hope that my Dad enjoyed playing catch with his sons on an unseasonably warm winter day as much as I did with mine. (I have very specific memories of playing catch in fall weather with my Dad, avoiding the work of and the physical obstacle of the unstacked pile of firewood by the cellar doors.)

James, who can easily throw the ball the entire length of the backyard now, is a great sport. Owen zigged and zagged and enjoyed "covering" people as much as any of the throwing and catching he did. Felix caught some balls but mostly used the game as an excuse to roll around on the muddy ground. He started the day in a blue raincoat with blue pants and a red hoodie. He ended the day in a brown raincoat with brown pants and a brown hoodie.

They also tracked in mud whenever they came in and outside. There is a permanent line of discoloration on our walls and door molding at about the three foot line...where they put their hands when they turn into the kitchen, run up and down the stairs, or brace against the wall to take off their shoes. (Just kidding, they never take off their shoes. They just clomp bits of mud all across the hardwood.)

I didn't care. It was just nice to throw a football around in the sunshine with three happy boys. 

It ended in tears, as it always does. Owen pushed Felix harder than he intended, and Felix now has an enormous goose egg on his forehead that hasn't quite stopped bleeding. I gave him a baggy of ice to hold against his head and told him it would keep the bruising down. He put his muddy feet up on the kitchen table and sat with the bag open on his lap, picking out and eating the ice cubes with muddy fingers.

They've had a great day.

So disappointing...

 February is going to be bonkers, and we started it off on the wrong foot. In a month where we are going to rely on our babysitters (whom we love) to get us through a difficult press or extra teaching, extra services, and extra orchestra work we had two different sitters end up in the hospital on back to back days.

They are fine. Also, not their fault. But we were in trouble. 

"We will make the best of a bad situation," I said. 

"We will turn this inconvenience into an adventure. Let me bring the boys to Syracuse and we'll spend the night in a hotel. We'll go swimming and order a pizza and watch ESPN. Then they can come to my concerts in the morning and we will have a grand fun time without making them do this drive twice in two days."

Then the upstairs bathroom sink stopped draining. Two hours, one trip to Lowe's, and several yelled exchanges out from the open bathroom window to the person manning the sillcock spigot out in the snow later (February is COLD) we had a draining sink again and I tried to get the boys to finish packing.

"Don't forget your swimsuits! I made sure that I booked a hotel with a pool. Also, toothbrushes. And bring something to read for during the concert."

Felix announced that he had a loose tooth. 

"Try not to lose it while I'm in rehearsal."

"How long is this rehearsal going to take?"

"I can't really control that. It all depends on how to conductor chooses to run the rehearsal."

"Is this conductor one of those terrible people you tell Mom about? Are they evil and bad?"

We got out of rehearsal relatively painlessly and picked up a pizza and wings. And also some carrots, so it would be healthy.

We checked into the hotel.

"Room 108. Follow the steps down past that sign to your right and you'll be four doors down."

We followed the steps right past the sign that said 'Outdoor Pool.'

"Boys, I have some bad news..."

Felix cried because eating wings hurt his loose tooth. Owen was upset because we couldn't swim. James was upset that Felix and Owen wanted to watch the only football-related programming we could find, which was a rebroadcast of the Eagles losing to the Chiefs in the Super Bowl.

"Owen and Felix, why don't you guys get into your swimsuits and you can splash around in the bathtub?"

Only a shower. No bath available. 

I found one of the children attempting to floss bits of chicken wing out of their teeth with one of the instant coffee packets.

It was so disappointing...

...until the continental breakfast.

This is where I, as their father, earned all the credit back.

Waffles, cereal, bagels, yogurt, nut bars, syrup, breakfast sandwiches!

Owen didn't even need to eat lunch that day. (He just had a fluffernutter sandwich, for something healthy)

"Okay, boys, here's the deal..."

 Boys, I'm going to refinish the tub. It's going to be a stinky, messy, time-consuming, hard job. The only thing that you need to know is that for the next 48 hours no one is going to be able to take any baths or showers. Not that you guys bathe and shower every day any way, but I just want you to know that for THESE 48 hours no one is going to be able to get in there, okay?

Also, since this was the one 48-hour stretch in which we were not able to wash our children before bringing them out in public, this was the night that the Amerks chose to put some close up video of Felix dancing on the jumbotron at the hockey game. (And then awarded him a beanie, a t-shirt, and $25 of gift cards to a hamburger stand.)

Of COVID, Ceilings, and Harmonicas

 

I love the New Year. It’s a chance to take stock of life, think about big projects, and to re-read all of your favorite books that you already read the previous year but want to read again. When we found out that J had COVID, I thought that this would maybe even be helpful for getting the New Year off on the right foot.

I downloaded an audiobook of Pride and Prejudice and started work on masking up our living room and kitchen. A few years ago I installed recessed lighting in the living room (also during a slow January week) but never got around to repainting the scuffed ceiling after J’s Dad helped up finish up the drywall repairs.

The kitchen has needed a fresh coat of ceiling paint for years. We had a waste line leak repeatedly before Felix was born, and that meant an enormous drywall patch where the ceiling was leaking through the light. When we had COVID two years ago in March the ceiling was damaged further by a plumbing project of mine that went awry. (I tried to clean out the tub drain, broke it, and had to rebuild the whole thing.)

Actually painting over the repaired ceilings would be a final farewell to those long hours of cutting, cleaning, puzzling, driving to Lowe’s, and generally fretting about how to keep water from leaking from our ceilings.

While J convalesced in our room I put in my earbuds (rejoining the Bennet family in Meryton) and masked, scrubbed, sanded, primed, and painted.

I don’t love working on the house or fixing things for their own sake—it usually makes me freshly thankful for my cushy white collar job. But it was nice to see the ceiling cleaned up and shining as I peeled the tape off at the end. A job well done.

Yesterday morning, with J mostly on the mend, I took yet another COVID test. (A daily occurrence since “exposed” in order to be able to go into work.) And lo, there were two lines. I really feel fine—just a tickle in my throat and a slightly runny nose. My first thought was that I’d be able to finish Pride and Prejudice sooner than I thought.

“NOO!” yelled Owen, “my harmonica!!”

Owen has been begging for a harmonica ever since Christmas, and I’ve pulled out every trick in the book to defer him. He told me that he wanted a harmonica for Christmas, and I warned him that harmonicas aren’t something that you read, wear, or need.

Then he wanted to spend his Christmas cash on a harmonica, and I said that we weren’t going to go to the store today. No, I had never seen a harmonica on Amazon either. Maybe he should ask again later.

Maybe he should ask again in two weeks.

I pretended that the Amazon site was broken, then didn’t let him have my phone so that he could see if he could get it to work.

“Dad, I REALLY want a harmonica.”

“Yes, Owen…I know.”

Several years ago I wrote a six word story (modeled on the famous Hemmingway six word story: “For Sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.” My six word tragedy was: “Owen found the deliberately hidden harmonica.”

When I opened up my folder for the next Masterworks concert I saw that on the final page of some (dumb) contemporary piece I’m supposed to switch from trumpet to “Harmonica in C” and blow long chords. (Good thing I spent all that money on a conservatory education.)

“Owen,” I said, “if they give me a harmonica to play at my concert next week, you can have it when I’m done.”

And that’s why he was heartbroken when I got the news that I’d be staying home for another week.

J was far enough in her isolation and well enough yesterday to leave the house masked, and she walked up to the local craft store. As a reward for the boys for tolerating/surviving a week at home with sick parents and half of the house masked off for painting she brought them all some color by numbers and…two harmonicas. Owen and Felix were ecstatic.

“KHREEEK!”

“Thank you so much, Mommy!”

“KHREEEEEEK!”

“Aren’t we supposed to talk about these things before one of us just goes and—”

“KKKKKHREEEEEEEEKKKK!”

 

They camped out in a fort last downstairs last night, so when I came down at 6 to have coffee and read I could already hear the very soft, barely whispered “khreeeeeks” coming out of the tent that they had made while I tried to concentrate on my book.

After breakfast I decided that it might be more restful anywhere else other than the inside the house, so I volunteered to shovel the driveway, reasoning that I wasn’t technically breaking isolation rules if I stayed on my own property. I pulled on snowpants and big boots, then put in my noise cancelling earbuds and hit play on Pride and Prejudice.

I’d only been out for five minutes or so when I looked up and saw J waving from the front step. I paused Pride and Prejudice and took out the earbud.

“There’s water leaking into the kitchen from the ceiling.”

I thought for a moment that she was kidding. The ceiling I’d just finally put the last touch of repair on? The ceiling that leaked the last time that I had COVID?

I came inside, and sure enough:

Drip—drip—drip---drip,

“KHREEEEEK!!”

It wasn’t coming from the spot under the tub. It was coming from light fixture that had also leaked when the waste line had leaked. The waste line that we had FIXED!

I went upstairs through a storm of blasting harmonicas and inspected the supply lines in James’ closet. And then I walked into the bathroom and figured out what had happened. It wasn’t a plumbing issue. It was a James issue.

James, like a true pre-teen, had taken a long shower. And he had done it with the shower curtain and the liner both tucked outside the tub, thus ensuring a minor flood in the bathroom.

I started to take apart the fixture to see how bad the flooding was.

“KHKREEEK! KHREEEK!”

A puddle of urine-smelling brown water that had pooled in the glass of the fixture spilled out all over me, dribbling onto the kitchen floor.

“KHREEEK! KHREEK!”

I hunted through the basement until I found the right circuit and cut the power to the kitchen. Then I found screws in the fixture base and disconnected it from the ceiling, sloshing more of the gritty waste water onto the freshly painted ceiling in the process.

“KHREEEEK! “KHREEEEK!”

After wiping everything dry and ensuring that nothing more was going to leak through, I wrestled with the fixture over my head (“KHREEEEEEK!”) blindly for several minutes before giving up and retrieving a ladder from the garage so that I could feel my way back onto the bracket.

“KHREEEEEEEK!”

I have a new six word story:

For sale.

Two harmonicas.

Harmonicists included.