Maestro please...

When I was a child I wanted to play the violin or the cello. I REALLY wanted to play but due to various circumstances I was unable to do so.

I liked my Grandma’s reasoning the best. “You don’t want to play the cello, it is not ladylike. They have to have the thing between their knees, it isn’t right.” I love my Grandma so!

My second favorite was the public school I went to. After “testing” my musical aptitude it was determined I was tone deaf. Thanks for having a little faith folks.

Cut to the present.

My daughter loves music. She is now 4 and catches on pretty well to tunes and has a good memory. Last summer we bought her a guitar for her 4th birthday.

Well, that was in August and since then we have heard several times that she really wanted was a violin. Of course, that was music to my ears, as I had always had an interest.

So about 4 weeks ago we signed her up for a 10 week introduction to the “Suzuki method” class and she loves it. I mean she really LOVES it.

Oh wait….that’s me who really loves it. She likes it whole bunches. But me? I really love it. Do you see where I am going with this?

This class requires a parent to rent an adult size violin to learn on and then trade it in after 4-5 classes for a child’s size. They say that if the parent learns then they can better help the child learn. Well, that was just a mistake. You will have to pry that violin out of my hands.

I am 31 years old and when my hubby and the kiddos were out of the house I stood in front of a large mirror and played my heart out. I could hear the crowd cheering! People were throwing roses onstage. Children were begging for my autograph.

It was the most moving performance of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” you had EVER heard.

It brings me great joy to play. No matter how poorly I play I know I have been practicing and for once I am not watching a musician, I am the participant.

No, I am not a stage mom. My little girl loves to practice and it is great quality time that we get to spend with each other. If she decides someday she doesn’t like it then we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

For the time being I will relish each moment that I pull out that bow and shiny violin from the velvet lined case. It is like a treasure chest for me filled with excitement and the unknown.

My oldest sister calls it “a dying cat”, I call it music.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz…and now a word from our sponsor

My husband and I suffer each morning.
It is terrible.
It is horrible.
I can barely write the words to describe it, but here I go.

Each morning we actually have to leave our bed. There, I said it.
Maybe it is a deadly sin I am participating in: Sloth.

It is a daily struggle because we invested in a Select Comfort bed last year. I say invested because comfort apparently has a price but when you consider health problems it is wise to invest in quality.

It all started with those crazy commercials about “sleep numbers” and “adjustable settings”. I disregarded them as a fad until my own doctor recommended that I seriously consider this purchase due to my arthritis. My hubby and I did our research: the cost, the statistics of pain relief, could it hold up to children jumping on it and the fact that our old mattress was 10 years old.

They offered us a 30 day trial with free delivery and set up. It was too good to pass up so one fine day our bed was delivered.

We spent a week playing around with our “numbers”.
Pssssst….huuummmmmmmmm….pssst…..huuummmmm
Pssssst….huuummmmmmmmm….pssst…..huuummmmm

That was the sound of the inflation and deflation of our new “toy”.

Within two weeks I was sleeping through the night and waking up with less discomfort.
They really should put a warning on the bed:

“Warning, this bed results in side effects of: comfort, fluffiness and general
happiness. Use of this product during the day can result in decreased
productivity”

I usually don’t promote items on my blog but when something is good, I like to share it with the world.