Let Them Eat Cake

For the record, Bill was not pleased with his photos. I rushed him. No time for the right kind of flash or whatever and it was a snowstorm and the driveway needed sand and salt before the guests arrived. I just wanted to preserve the moment before the cake and punch left their mark.

Last Saturday we had a full house. Thanks to all who braved the snow and ice. Studio kids came and friends and of course the grandparents and Bill's sister and her mother-in-law. Calvin had three school friends come. Yes, middle school boys. They RSVP'ed to me and brought little gifts of European chocolate. Wow. Equally amazing, little three-year-old Úna sat completely still for the whole hour and a half program, setting a new bar for "being a good audience" and five-year-old Ford made it quite a while before his long winter's nap, which is actually being a good audience too in my book. . .

Mary played beautifully. She picked all good tempi and was there in the music as opposed to elsewhere in her mind. A fancy dress helps with that. . . I'm not joking. She really pulled it together. It was a big program for her--and we were a little rushed--in order to let the kids play on the same recital. Bad teacher. Bad mom. But--sometimes if you don't have a deadline you never cross the finish line. She used her music for Spiritoso, which didn't bother me at all because I'm pleased that she is reading so well. She's had poise a mile long and many beautiful moments. Before getting cake all over the dress.

Calvin was rock solid. I'm not saying that every piece was the best he ever played it--that's asking too much--especially coming off a week with the flu. But I trust him. He's not going to train wreck. Once he puts on the shoes and suit he's there. What we missed the last week, with him being ill was a couple full run-throughs. He just didn't have the energy. So--he and I both underestimated the physical oomph to get through the program. We will have to start carb loading him next time, but he stuck the Prelude ending and we got a good graduation recording of the Bartok. The Beethoven will be there waiting for him his whole life. Note to self. . . suit pants only last four months before they are too short. . . buy multiple sizes next time or duct tape the hem so you can let it out. 

I was super proud. And nobody threw up. And we ate a lot of cake.

The ballet teacher came. Mary's only been taking ballet once a week for a couple months, so I was pleasantly surprised. The teacher stayed--and enjoyed the reception. I believe she appreciated a family engaging in classical music and a lovely party. She's from Germany and doesn't have family here and she told us how she doesn't see that much appreciation for the arts in young people here. I liked her before--she's beautiful and lanky in the ballet way and so calm in the class--gently adjusting the girls' feet--but now I love her. All I ever wanted from a gymnastics coach or a dance teacher was one single ounce of appreciation for my child as a whole person. Now I'm tender.

Thank you to my mother--who never sat down the whole time she was here--and who baked and baked and cleaned the kitchen one thousand times. Thank you Bill, for putting up with sleep-deprived me. I know you probably don't believe this--but I get pretty darn grouchy. . . little old me. . . a little off kilter.

Now we are done. And on the downhill to Christmas. I thought I would cry. I thought I would be relieved. But I didn't feel too much of anything except love. These recitals are pauses on the journey--and the road keeps going and going and going. On to masterclasses this weekend for S.A.M. and then the studio recital. More practice. More dresses and shoes. Another chance to learn and grow. To meet new people and get new ideas.

To celebrate the kids and share the music.

Another chance to eat cake, and not worry where it goes. . .

Congratulations, Calvin and Mary!