The next great musical sensation ...
I'm spending this week at Ivy's house while Ivy and her husband are gallivanting around Orlando, Florida. (I totally approve of the gallivanting, by the way. They'd better be having marathon fun!) That makes me, the lone adult, with eleven children, ages 19 months to 12 years. Of course, more than half are my children, so it's not really as big of a deal as you'd think. The days start off pretty calmly, and it's only around dinner time that the noise reaches such a level that I start to feel like joining along with the screaming. And right after that, it's bed time, the best part of the day.
Ivy and I have watched each other's kids several times, and it's interesting to see how interactions between the kids change as they get older. For example, the older boys now spend a lot of their time talking about their "band." Keep in mind that none of them plays an instrument. Well, Ivy's oldest is taking guitar lessons, and my boys play the piano. Occasionally I hear a couple of bars of something familiar from the guitar, but that's about it.
Of course they've discussed band names, and isn't that the most important part of being in a band? A few of their ideas are Fried Chicken, Fudge, and The Band. (There have been a lot of ideas, but I can't remember any more than that right now.) They've had some pretty heated arguments about who's going to play which instrument. I've also heard this sentence spoken: "What if someone doesn't practice enough before the concert?" That's when I wanted to yell, "What concert?!" But I refrained. They are 12, 10, and 9 and don't appreciate their ridiculousness.
I think it would be kind of cool if they actually learned to play drums, guitar, bass, etc. and covered some Foo Fighters songs or something. But I doubt that they'll come to me for suggestions. Maybe they'll let me make anti-suggestions: please not "Ironman" and only "Sweet Child of Mine" if you're joking. I'll just be hoping they don't get anything pierced or tattooed, and trying not to stand too close to the drum set, which is really loud, did you know? Even a kid size one. Even when it's being played by a 2-year-old.
Oh, my beautiful, sweet, perfect grandchildren! How can you complain about their creativity and hopes and ambitions? Love and sympathy, Mamala PS It's pretty quiet around here. I can hear the hum of the computer, an occasional passing car. If I open the window I may hear the rustling of leaves in the breeze....ReplyDelete
Hi Erin - I'm a friend of Ivy's who admired your patience from afar at church yesterday. That was quite a pew of children! I can tell from your blog that you're hilarious like Ivy. I'm putting your blog on my favorites list and will check in here to get your take on movies and books. I hope you're still hanging in there!ReplyDelete
Mom, thanks for the description of your peace and quiet! It's kind of torturing me. Actually, there are brief moments of quiet. Two minutes here and there. And I'd have more respect for the kids' creativity, hopes and ambitions if they'd stop talking about them and do something already! Cheryl, thanks for commenting! Going to church was the thing I was the most nervous about, but it turned out pretty well.ReplyDelete