Summer Sabbatical Week One

I just dropped Mary at gymnastics. I checked her in and watched her for a few minutes.  She couldn't get the smile off her face and looked like she was coming home.  She gave the teacher a big hug and commenced to be the first one in line to lead the group of advanced beginners.

Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later. . . I'm home typing on my computer. I'm giddy. One huge step toward world peace and less gas consumption. At least in my little corner. Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me. . .

You might remember that I'm taking this summer off of my studio teaching. This is day three. Mary and Calvin have each practiced a focused hour with me everyday. Calvin before breakfast and Mary afterwards. She has already learned two Book Three songs in three days. We've checked off 18 reading pieces. She's on fire and I'm convicted. Putting her practice last on my list, at 8:00 at night when bedtime is 8:30 when I've already spent eight hours at the piano and she is at the end of her programming day is just not fair.  I'm not sure what to do about that but I've got some time to think.

Besides that--I've been in a gardening induced coma. A transplanting fool.  The bulldozer comes for the backyard on Monday and every fern and hosta is sacred. . .whatever I don't get moved will be gone. I hear their little voices screaming as the bobcat drives over them and the work boots crush them. I did all Grandma Hope's peonies--ten of them with their three inch thick roots.  Don't worry little catmints--as soon as the rain stops I'm coming back for you. . . I'LL. . . BE. . . BACK!!!!!!!

More rain. I will not turn on the heat, I will not turn on the heat, I WILL NOT TURN ON THE HEAT.

I'm scared.

I'm scared that practicing with my kids and eating dinner together and shopping with Calvin for healthy foods and taking them to the library will grow on me.  I'm scared I might never want to teach again. I'm sacred that if I take a break I may never start up again. I'm sacred that having my act together will be addicting. What if I really like not running around like a chicken with my head cut off? Then what?

That's why I did two things. I made the Fall schedule. I'm starting a little four-year-old Matthew, with shining eyes. Secondly, I signed up to do the teaching practicum with Caroline Fraser in July, knowing that observing her and getting feedback on my teaching would make me not be able to wait to actually get my hands back on some little hands and ears.

The timing is right for this break. These four seniors sucked the life out of me. Sunday night, after all the recitals and parties were done, I sat at the piano and I didn't even know what to play. I've spent quite a few years now practicing their repertoire and choir music. What would I just sit and play? I used to know 100 country and pop songs by ear but none of them came to my fingers--another proof of time passing.

To everything there is a season. A time for everything. A time to read and sit on the porch in the rain.  A time to formulate a sustainable plan. My reading list?  "7".  The book.  "Crafting a Rule of Life."  "The Creative Habit." "The 10 Second Rule."  And then. . . Anna Karenina.. . .

Oh yeah--the backyard bulldozer thing and the jackhammering of the basement floor to start the plumbing for the finished basement.

I won't be bored.  And. . .

I'LL. . . BE. . . BACK!!!!!!!!