The Devil's Instrument

Music is what feelings sound like. 

~ Author Unknown

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I knew this day would come.  In fact, I hoped it would.  But never, ever, did I think it would try my patience like it has.

Growing up, music was like air to me.  I needed it daily and as my relationship with it grew, it became something very important to me. I nearly made it a career until I grew unsure how I would actually accomplish that.  My mom will tell you all about the scholarship I turned down as a result, just ask her. In the end, it was a love but, for me, it was never a career.  

Daughter of the year #1 has been taking piano lessons for 3 years.  There were times it tested me but that mainly came from frustrated bangs on the keys and hearing Jolly Old Saint Nicholas clear into the month of March.  Who knew my ultimate test of patience would come with a 12 inch piece of plastic with holes.  

Ah, the blessed recorder.  #1 has been anxious all year knowing this grade was the one where you learned to play the recorder in music class.  I love her tenacity and eagerness to learn.  Her music teacher has developed the curriculum for this like belts in karate.  The more songs she learns, the higher her belt (which is signified by that same color of string on her recorder - clever!).  I give an outpouring of sympathy to the music teacher however.  Oh my goodness, that shrill, shrieking sound coming from multiple, ahem...instruments...at one time.  There is not enough Tylenol in the world in my opinion.  Now that's a true love of music to tolerate that!  A love I came to the quick realization over the last free days I must really not have.  

#1 has had some rules imposed upon her.  She may not play the recorder while watching television as the volume creeps as loud as the music she is making.  Ugh!  She may play in her room with door fully closed and no additional music.  There will be no figuring out the latest Katy Perry song on the recorder.  She may not play it with her nose or other bodily, um, regions.  Last, and not least, she must keep it away from her sister who believes she must blow in it as forcefully as possible while sneaking up on you.  Double ugh!  

I am thrilled that I have a child who is sharing in the gift of musical talent.  I seriously am a proud mama (remind me to tell you how well she plays Turning Tables by Adele on the piano).  For now, I'm going to resign myself to the notion that while she works on her orange belt in playing the recorder, I'll work on my black belt in ear plugs.