The Circle of Piano Lessons and Life

Dane had his second piano recital Tuesday night. (His first happened when he'd only been taking a month and I didn't get to go, Cam did so this was my first Dane recital. Very exciting!) He did a great job and didn't miss a beat when he realized half way through his first song that the bench was too far away from the piano. He kept (logically) standing up to play, but eventually moved the bench with his foot while half-way sitting on it, again not missing a beat. It didn't even ruffle him.

My mom and my husband's parents came (Dad, I didn't invite you. I don't know why...sorry) while Cam stayed home with the little noise-makers.

Now this is where the circle comes in. I was mentioning to my mother that once I was looking through the scrapbook my MIL made for my husband and found a very familiar looking program from a piano recital. Turns out the my husband and I not only had the same piano teacher, but our names [insert appropriate romantic sound-byte] were right next to each other on the program.

"It's too bad" I say to my mother "that you didn't find another teacher for me after mine moved away."

She replied "After all the grief you gave me over practicing? No way."

Huh.

It's funny...I don't remember the grief. I vaguely remember not wanting to practice, but I was earning Strawberry Shortcake miniatures for my practice time. I know I did my practicing because I have a lot of those miniatures which I, of course, kept. They still smell lovely.

I do remember being excited about recitals. I liked theory. I loved my Composers music book and the Toreador Song and the Peer Gynt In the Hall of the Mountain King. I hated running into the next student if my mom was a tad late picking me up. I was painfully shy out of my comfort zone. I remember punching a boy in the eye for being, what I deemed, fresh. I was 6. He probably was, too. Sorry Christopher, where ever you are.

So now, my son is giving me grief about piano practicing. So, it grief happens, but we're sticking with piano lessons. Thanks, Mom, for putting it into perspective for me.