Ethan's First First Noel

Ethan and Adam began taking piano lessons this fall.  It's something they'd been asking to do for awhile, so I finally got my act together and set them up with a teacher and a cute little practicing corner in our basement (far far away from the rest of us, which is just perfect for those times when they are playing the wrong note over and over and over again...).  Since we began this piano adventure, the boys have each had exactly five lessons.  So you can imagine my hesitation when their teacher asked if they'd like to be in the Christmas recital this year.  Adam immediately said "no" (there is a god), but before I could convince Ethan otherwise, he was all signed up and 100% on board.  Come hell or high water, he was determined to play The First Noel in his very first piano recital.

My first born is nothing if not determined.  Actually, both of my children are quite determined (ahem, stubborn) little individuals, but in different ways.  Adam is more flexible and adapting than Ethan - if he starts down one path and finds it too challenging, he quickly shifts gears and dives in another direction, keenly aware of and drawn to his strengths.  He is also my lazier child, and isn't a fan of putting in a bunch of extra effort if it isn't something for which he is passionate.  Ethan, on the other hand, will not deviate from his chosen and stated course, no matter what.  What he says he will do, he does.  If he decides halfway through that it was, in retrospect, a terrible decision to embark on this course, he still pushes forward.  This is an admirable quality, and one with which I must say I am quite familiar.  Unlike my dear husband, who second-guesses and over-analyzes and does post-mortems on dead horses to no end, I, like Ethan, make a decision and never look back.  So I know from personal experience, that while this determination and perseverance can take you far, there can be tears and grief and frustration and bad choices along the way.

But this post isn't about me after all.  Ethan rose to the challenge of the piano recital like I knew he would.  He practiced and practiced and practiced some more.  The experience was a lesson in parenting for me - wondering when to push, when to pull back, when to help, when to let him figure it out, how much to let him struggle.  I wrestled with the fact that it wasn't all fun for him - for the first time in his history of childhood activities, this wasn't always a rewarding outlet.  Was it too soon to be pushing him to do something that wasn't immediately gratifying?  There were a lot of tears, and many times that I looked Ethan in the eyes and said, "Are you still having fun?  Because you don't have to do this."  And his answer was always yes, that he wanted to do it. 

And so, as was once advised by a wise friend, I tried to let go and follow Ethan's lead.  I'll be honest - a week ago, I wasn't sure how he was going to play in front of a crowd of people.  His piano teacher assured me that his terribly tempo-ed attempts did in fact sound ready for public ears.  And Ethan was confident he was ready.  ("This is easy.  I sound so good." were his exact words I believe.)  He practiced and practiced, and thanks to some last minute coaching from Dad (who, by the way, is a waaaaayyy better teacher than I am), it actually started to sound like The First Noel.   

Sunday arrived, and Ethan maintained that he wasn't nervous (despite the fact that he didn't touch his dinner, tucked and re-tucked his shirt about fourteen times, and paced around our living room).  We dropped him off in a quiet room filled with visibly nervous fellow students and took our seats.  I was beyond nervous, but once the first student played, I relaxed.  I quickly realized that nobody was going to play their piece perfectly, and that that was just fine!  Soon enough, it was Ethan's turn to play.  He did a cute little bow, took his seat, and...began playing in the completely wrong finger position.  His teacher adjusted him and he began again.  It was far from perfect, but it was, actually, perfect in my eyes.  Our boy was confident and persevered, even when he lost his place for a moment and just calmly paused to figure it out.  He wasn't addled or panicked or embarrassed.  He was proud, and I was too.  Proud of his bravery and his hard work and his willingness to try something new.  In the end, I'm so glad Ethan decided to do this, and that he didn't let me talk him out of it.  He knew he could do it, and he did.  Just perfectly.  I don't think I've ever enjoyed hearing The First Noel quite so much. 

Pre-recital

 

Post-recital, with the Marciano boys, who played brilliantly

And when we weren't preparing for Sunday's recital, we spent the rest of our December weekend enjoying the season.

Breakfast with Santa.  No really, I think it might have been THE Santa.  And Mrs. Claus of course.

Risking our lives by putting a saw in the hands of a crazy six-year old.  Cutting down our Christmas tree!

The boys enjoyed throwing snowballs while Ben and I hunted for the perfect tree.

Until the sawing began, of course.  That was worth watching.

Lots of helpers during Santa season.

And the lists are finally final.  Note the fart blaster.  Not sure what that is, but Ethan assures me that "every boy needs one".  Really?  I am pretty sure I know two boys who don't.

Glad they're friends now.

And, after many years of feeling smug and happy not to have any exorbitant technology requests, there it is: "A Ipad."  Dream on, little man.