Tag Archives: music

On leaving home.

My boy is leaving home. My first. He is off to university 3,000 miles away and that has triggered all my sensory perceptions and electrified all my neurotransmitters. In other words, I have separation anxiety. I am very nervous.

Neurotic, some would say.

I have long argued that as mothers we are, essentially, animals and that we have a lot to learn from birds who leave their offspring to fend for themselves as soon as they can fly and think nothing of it. On the other hand, I also like to think that I have a brain slightly bigger than a bird’s, which translates into an ability to process thoughts and feelings, as loud and dizzying as they may be.

Naturally my fears and my agitation have translated into rants about very minor incidents and fights, with said boy, about everything and nothing. I have been saying all the wrong things and uttering all the wrong words.

I figured I would do us both, and all the other members of our household, a favour and articulate a little more clearly and maturely the myriad thoughts that have been swirling in my head over the last few months.

This is what I want to tell my son before I drop him off.

I want to tell him that education is a privilege.That not everyone has access to the joys and benefits of higher education. That he is lucky to be taking this time to invest in himself and advancing his knowledge in a discipline that he enjoys so much.

I want to tell him not to take this privilege for granted. That he should take full advantage of the new worlds and experiences that are opening up to him. That he should make full use of all that his university has to offer, whether in terms of facilities or people or activities. That he should not waste his time and assume that his time at university will last forever.

I want to tell him to be adventurous but not careless. That he should approach everything with an open mind, try everything, throw a bit of caution to the wind but that he should always make sure he has a way back home.

I want to tell him that I am a little envious.That I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to go through the same life-changing experience again, to feel like every single cell in my body is regenerating, to feel like my mind is growing, to feel like a world of opportunity awaits me. That I wouldn’t mind to still be counting up rather than counting down.

I want to tell him to take care of his finances.That now is the time to start investing in his future. That being lucky enough to have his education insured is not a reason to neglect learning how to save and invest and make an income of his own. That he should start building his own self-worth, to enrich and invest in himself.

I want to tell him that I will miss him. That I may cry. That after avoiding looking in the direction of his room and the piano for the first few weeks, I may find myself spending more time there. And that while I understand that he is only away to study, my primeval cells, my inner bird, cannot help but see his departure as a death of a sort. An end to a life that was, and the beginning of a new one. And that that is what scares, and excites me, the most.

And finally, I want to tell him that he cannot begin to understand how much he will change over the next few years and may not understand all that I am saying until he himself sends his first child off to university. And that, that too is a privilege.

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Letter to my nieces

As blessed as I am to live with boys, I am equally blessed to have nieces, five of them. Fierce, beautiful, bright young warriors forging their way to womanhood. And, having surmised that boys do not listen—or at least do so only sideways—I figured I would dedicate this post to the girls in my life.

Without intending to preach, here is what I wish I was told in my late teens and early twenties, and spent the next 20 years learning:

Love, but stay emotionally independent. Do not be scared to love. Love with all your heart, with all the fire in your core, unconditionally and unreservedly, but walk away when you need to and leave no strings behind you. Do not be subsumed. And yes, someone out there does deserve you.

Manage your money.  No one, and nothing, will give you the self-worth that making and managing your own money will give you. Start saving early, start investing now, and before you know it you will be on your way to financial freedom.

Do what you love…When you work at what you love, you live. When you don’t live what you love, you work. Cultivate your interests, develop them. Be curious, only this way can you tell what it is you really love to do and what makes you happy and fulfilled.

…And become really good at it. When you discover what you love, be the best at it. Become an authority on the subject. Let no one be better than you. And even if you feel you’ll never be the best, keep trying. After all, someone has to occupy the top spot, why not you?

Shut out the noise. Do not let people’s fears and insecurities derail you. Live your life, they can live theirs. We are all looking for a purpose, find yours, do not take someone else’s. And when you do find it, take it, hold it high and run out of town like a bear on fire was chasing you. And scream your lungs out on your way.

Be productive, not busy. Set goals.Measure the steps you need to get there. And when you’re done for the day, put your feet up. Why run on a hamster wheel when you can run on the road and actually get somewhere? Measure your productivity by your achievements, not by how many hours you are putting in a day.

Focus. It is the only sure-fire way to get anywhere. Focus on your goal, focus on the road. Don’t let insignificant events hinder or block you.

Practice a sport. Preferably outdoors. Practicing a sport gives you a sense of purpose and a goal to work towards when nothing else is working (and believe me there will be such a time). A sport is the faithful friend who will never leave you, stick with you through thick and thin and never ever tell you you look fat. It will move with you wherever you go and see you through the sad and the happy times. And the kicker? It forces you to breathe.

Never stop learning, never stop growing. When you stop growing, you start dying. The world is constantly changing and at exponential speed, be a part of it, engage in it, change and grow with it. Don’t be left on the sidelines. Do not die while you live.

Follow your gut. And when in doubt, say no. Don’t overthink it. If that niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach is telling you something, listen to it no matter what anybody else says.

If you think you hate your body now, wait 20 years. Appreciate your body, your face, your hair, your little toenail even. Now. You will never look this good again.

Be as kind to yourself as to an orphaned puppy. You deserve it. Nothing good can ever come out of chastising yourself, except feeling bad.

Why wait? This one is from my sister, your other aunt. The future is now. Don’t wait for when you have more money, more time, more energy. Chances are it won’t happen. Take what you can. Seize the day.

Admit your mistakes, say sorry, move on. We. All. Make. Mistakes. Leave the perfectionism behind and wallow in the mud. You’ll be a better person for it. And if the person does not accept your apology, leave them with their anger and move on. It’s them, it’s not you.

You are special. You are unique. But so is everyone else. Take yourself seriously. But not too much.

Do not be sad about losing or breaking anything that money can replace. Don’t get attached to things but cherish the memories behind them. You can fix the item or buy it again but you cannot recreate lost moments.

Everyone needs a helping hand, and everyone loves to help, just ask nicely. Whatever you do, do not walk solo. There is no glory in braving it alone. There are people out there who know more things than you, use them, learn from them. People love to help, so make them feel useful.

Be kind. Generosity is not about giving money. Give your time and attention, they are more precious than objects. Go out of your way sometimes if it tells someone you care about them, even at a minor discomfort to you.

All things can be taken away from you, except your dignity, and your word: don’t give them away for free. Stand by your word. Say what you mean and more importantly, mean what you say. Your word should be your strongest bond. Spoken words cannot be erased.

Be stubborn, but only where it matters. If it won’t make a difference in ten years, drop it. Fight the battles that are worth fighting and know when it is time to lay down your sword. Some things are just not worth it.

Raising kids is the loneliest, scariest thing you will ever do, which is why you should do it. A child will challenge you, make you doubt yourself, leave you traipsing dark, lonely corridors at night, make you question and second-guess yourself, over and over. But they will also bring out the best in you.

Do what scares you, get lost on purpose. True character shows in adversity and grows only when challenged. See how you behave when things are not going your way, when you are not in control, when you do not know where you are or where you are going. You will learn a lot about yourself.

Find your truth, and live it. Be authentic. Be true. Engage in what makes you happy regularly. We all want to please, we all want to belong but in the end, we are born and we die alone. Be your own best company. Stick to your values.

And music. Always music.

Of boys and noise

When I was a young girl, I used to be partially deaf in one ear. I didn’t know that of course, but everyone else did.

My siblings knew because they would whisper to me when I wasn’t looking and see how long it took to get my attention. Finally, my mother, having given up on my siblings’ rudimentary way of testing, confirmed the diagnosis in a dim and humid doctor’s clinic. I was ten years old.

My mother at the time, bless her, had no idea that I would eventually end up living with four boys and that being partially deaf in one ear may actually be a good thing.

Because living with boys as anyone will tell you, is noisy. Doors don’t close, they bang. They don’t unlock, they’re wrenched open. Conversations are not had, they’re shouted across rooms and corridors. My boys are teenagers now, so they’re quite hormonal and so there’s a lot of shouting and screaming going on.

Then there are the musical instruments of course. The piano, played only with the foot constantly to the pedal, and the bass. And the drums. The drums played without the silencing pads.

And the music that stays on long after the premises have been vacated. Music is always in the background.

Boys also like to watch noisy things: a football match with all the cacophony of the stadium, action movies with long car chases and noisy exhausts, war movies. All with the volume pitched high.

And then there’s Big Boy Number One, of course. My husband loves to watch replays of football matches he’s already seen a couple of times already. If his favored team had actually won, I get treated to replays and commentary on television, tablet, phone…Location doesn’t matter either: bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, living room…it all works. This doesn’t bother me, I have to admit, except when I’m trying to read or I’m concentrating on something else, happily and quietly in my bed, in which case the commentary becomes quite a distraction.

Especially if it’s in German.

(Neither my husband nor I speak or understand German.)

And here’s an observation I made the other day. Boys don’t notice when a sound is too high, only when it’s too low. My eldest son recently joined the school choir and we were, naturally, invited to watch his first concert. It was really great to go and watch his lips move.

“How did you like it?” he asked me hopefully at the end.

“I liked it a lot though I would have liked it even more if I had heard you,” I replied, “your father was complaining that he couldn’t hear you at all! You sing louder than that when you sing alone at home,” I tried, wanting to offer one positive-sounding comment at least.

“Yes well, we were asked to keep it soft and melodious,” he explained.

“Well maybe that’s the problem,” I said. “Next time keep it loud…and try singing in German.”

Of Boys and Ocarinas

An ocarina is an ancient wind musical instrument that sounds like a flute but isn’t. And that is exactly what happened with the ocarina that my eldest son, Big Boy Number Two, ordered. It sort of arrived but didn’t.

I’ll explain. But not too much as it gets confusing because there are too many foreign-sounding names like Zelda and Ocarina of time and Nintendo and Koji Kondo…In any case, suffice it to know that Zelda is quite the cult figure in the world of YouTuber musicians and any musician worth his clout should have an ocarina it seems.

When my son came to me and mentioned that he would like to buy an ocarina, at first I thought he was interested in breeding baby killer whales, but it turns out he just wanted to try another musical instrument. At first I was delighted because it meant I wouldn’t have to hear every single version of every single Zelda song (believe me there are many) on the piano anymore as the ocarina seemed small enough to fit in his room.

This having been said, having just bought a bass guitar complete with amplifier and lessons, I suggested maybe we share the cost of this particularly new contraption (I am also trying to teach certain money management skills and failing miserably but more on that later.)

Unhappy with the fact that he had to pay, he turned to his father, my husband, Big Boy Number One.

And the ocarina got lost in transit.

Now, the great thing about living with boys is that when something goes wrong, you, the woman become the most important person in their lives. And so it was that my son came to me and asked me to track and trace his lost ocarina.

I was busy at that particular moment and suggested to him that he go on the relevant website and type in the tracking number given to him by the seller. He looked at me blankly. I repeated, a little more slowly, but that didn’t seem to help much. I reiterated, getting a little more agitated by now. My agitation must have rubbed on him because he finally started jumping in his seat:
“I can’t do it, I can’t do it! I don’t know how! What are you saying?! Can’t you please just do it for me?!”

And he knew, at that point I think, what he had just done and his blank look suddenly turned to comprehension. His eyes pleaded with me but it was too late, mentally I was already composing my post. Still, I explained.

“You realize I am so blogging about this, right?”

In my defense, and in compensation for material, I did find the ocarina and it is now safely on its way home. Big Boy Number One is traveling and was not available for comment at the time of writing.