Ei, Pie in the Sky

Ethan

Ei

Ei Pie in the Sky

Gentle Giant

Lover

The Darling of His Mama's Heart

Firm Believer

Concrete Thinker

Make-it-Right-er

Tantrum Thrower
Pouter
Precious, Sincere Apologizer

Snuggler

Daydreamer

Individual

Mama's Baby Ei

A Brother's Best Friend

5 year old

Love Them and They'll Shine

When he was 3, I took Jackson to the library to hear a string quartet. It was a fun afternoon, and I drove home feeling that "good mother" feeling that I get when I turn off the TV and do something enriching with my kids. I didn't think any more of it.

Days later, Jackson asked me what "the big one" was called. I had no idea what he was talking about. "The big one at the library?" he prodded. "Oh, the cello?" I asked. Yes, that was it. I inquired about what brought about his question. "I want to play it," he told me. I smiled. So cute. 3 is a fun age.

But it wasn't just a 3 year old's whim. Days turned into weeks turned into months of asking--begging--for a cello. And so, while his friends asked for bikes and video games, he asked for a cello for his 4th birthday.

But that was the easy part. For days after the birthday party, he asked me to help him play. I, having played the violin as a kid, had some idea as to how to put the strings on, rosin the bow, and make a sound. But that was about the extent of my knowledge of the cello. So I started researching teachers. I started by calling an old friend of mine who teaches cello. He was willing to take Jackson as a student, but his schedule meant it would be the end of the summer before we could start. He was eager to get started, so I decided to keep looking. I called a local string shop, and they gave me the names of several cello teachers in the area. I started calling. Each person told me the same thing: 4 is just too young to play the cello. I tried to explain that he was no ordinary 4 year old, but it was no use. They had it in their heads that I was a crazy whip-cracking mother who was pushing her child to be a musical prodigy for my own benefit. One teacher agreed to "give it a try," but her negative attitude about the whole thing put me on the defensive. It didn't feel right. I kept looking.

Finally I Googled "Suzuki cello teacher" and landed at SuzukiAssociation.org. I searched for a teacher in my area and found three that I hadn't previously called. I left messages for all three of them. One didn't call me back. One did call back but gave me the same song and dance I'd already heard about 4 being too young. But one called and was brilliant.

I talked to Kathleen Bowman for over half an hour. I described my situation, and she got excited. 4 is the perfect age to start, she assured me. I felt really good about her. So we set up a trial lesson.

My sweet Jackson talked about his upcoming lesson non-stop in the days leading up to our first lesson. He asked a million questions and wondered out loud about what it would be like. Then, finally, the day arrived. A surprisingly young woman opened the door and invited us in. And Jackson stopped talking.

He loved her. I know he did because he told me later--she was nice, funny, smart, pretty. He was full of compliments at home. But while we were there, he didn't speak. He didn't even look at her. Week after week we sat in her living room while she provided patient instruction, and week after week he sucked in his cheeks and stared at his toes. He did hear her though. Whether or not she knew it, he heard her. We went home and he repeated verbatim all that she had told him. And slowly, but surely, he started looking up. One day he looked right at her and answered with a "yes" instead of a half nod of the head. I could have kissed her then. She brought my little boy out of his shell.

Fast forward a couple of months. The end of his first semester of lessons was approaching, and with it came the Christmas recital. I could have predicted his reaction. I mentioned the idea of playing in a recital and tears formed in his tiny eyes. No, he didn't want to do it. Yes, he loved playing the cello. No, he didn't want to play in a recital. But this lady is brilliant. She asked him for a favor. Would he mind going with her to play his cello in a nursing home for some grandmas and grandpas? It would mean so much to them, and they wouldn't know or care if he messed up. Yes, he would. No, he wouldn't play in a recital. Yes, he would do mission work in a nursing home. It wasn't until we got home that evening that we told him he had successfully completed his first cello recital. We celebrated with a sundae. He beamed. And, the following week, he played in the Christmas recital--his second public performance--without any tears. He was proud. I never cared if my boy became a musician. I just wanted him to believe in himself.

And that's why I sing Ms. Kathleen's praises to anyone who will listen. She's an excellent cellist. She's a brilliant teacher. But most importantly, she's a compassionate Christian who loves her students. And they love her in return.

Those two handsome boys in vests on the front row? They're mine. They just had their spring recital. I asked Ei how he thought he did, and he replied, "I played like a 10 year old!" I asked Jackson if he was nervous, and he replied, "Yeah, maybe a little, I guess." That's the difference 2 years with a brilliant teacher makes. (She's the one right in the middle with the pink shirt, black jacket, and kind smile.)

Oh, by the way, if you want to learn more about Kathleen Bowman's studio, go to her website: http://www.bowmancello.com/. No, I'm not on the payroll--she's just a good friend and has been wonderful to my family. I owe her a lot more than a link on a blog, but it's a start.

Dear Ei,

My Sweet Ei,

Today you turn 4 years old. In some ways it seems like you should still be my tiny baby, but you are so grown up that I often think of you as even older than 4.

When Jackson was still pretty little (about 5 months old) I took a little drive to the store by myself. I didn't get out much without him, and I had thought it would be really relaxing to spend some time alone. I got in the car and turned on the heat. As soon as the air in the car warmed up, I began to feel really sick--I mean, REALLY sick. I don't get carsick except when I'm pregnant so I decided to buy a pregnancy test while I was at the store. When I got home I took the test, meaning for it to be my little secret. No need to tell the world if it's a false alarm, right? I hadn't even had time to wash my hands when I noticed the two pink lines. I read the box to be sure: two lines=pregnant. Since the recommended time had not passed to read the test I told myself not to panic--maybe it would fade in a minute or so. When it didn't, I knew. I was pregnant. I cried. I was still very much new to this whole mothering thing. I wasn't sleeping through the night. I wasn't eating hot meals. I was still unsure of how to manage a baby and a grocery cart at the same time. How could I possibly handle another baby? I think I must have sat on the bathroom floor and cried for at least half an hour before I decided I would soon be missed. I tidied myself up and went about the day, unsure of how to tell your Daddy that he was about to be a daddy again. I told Aunt Becca first. Then, when I had given myself a couple of hours to digest the idea, I told Daddy. I prepared him for news I wasn't sure he was going to like. I'll never forget his response: "How could I be upset about a baby?" Suddenly, this whole second-baby thing seemed so much more manageable. I wasn't doing it alone. Daddy would be right alongside me, as would all of our family and friends. From that moment on, I never even considered crying about being pregnant again. I was scared, sure. And tired, absolutely. But I was so happy. I was also fiercely defensive for you. People joked about my little "oops" baby, and I adamantly explained that you were well-planned, just not by me. No, you weren't in my plans, little man, but God knew that our family needed you. And, boy, was He right.

You dropped into our world and instantly felt like you'd been a part of us forever. I think we might have called you Ethan once or twice before Jackson re-named you Ei. You became "Baby Ei" and would be until we dropped the "baby" and left it just Ei. You had this round bald head and ears that stuck out, and you looked exactly like Charlie Brown from behind. You adored Jackson from the beginning--no one could make you smile the way he could (and the feeling was mutual). You were on the move from the beginning, and I almost can't remember a time when you didn't talk in full sentences because you started talking so early. And your laugh. Oh, Ei, you didn't just laugh. You cackled. And your whole body laughed. You shook all over and turned red in the face and couldn't breathe you laughed so hard. It was impossible to be in the room with you and not laugh along with you. We started saying that your cuteness would keep you out of trouble. 4 years later, I'm sure we were right. You are so rotten, Mr. Ei. You tease and pick and stay on the verge of trouble, but your precious laugh still gets you out of trouble. Everyone who meets you is charmed. Your Sunday School teacher from last year still goes out of her way to talk to you. Your Bible School teacher made a point of telling me how much she adored you. People who barely know you fall in love with your mischievous smile and funny mannerisms. I can't tell you how many times someone has said to me, "I'd take Ei home with me in a heartbeat," or something similar. I always beam with pride. And you and your brother Jackson? It melts my heart to see the two of you becoming such good friends. You tell me often that Jackson is your best friend, and I hope that's true forever. You love each other so well.

You know how sometimes someone surprises you with something wonderful, when it isn't even your birthday or Christmas? Those are the best kinds of presents because they are so unexpected, and because it usually means the giver is so sure you'll love this particular gift that he just can't wait for a big occasion to give it to you. That's you, Ei. I had always planned on having more children. I knew I wanted more babies--someday. I really think that God had an idea for a great little person, and He was so eager to present it to me that it just couldn't wait until I thought to ask for it. You are my perfect little surprise. If I could have planned all my children to be surprises (which seems like an oxymoron, I guess), that's exactly what I would have done. I couldn't have planned anything as marvelous as your birth. I couldn't have designed a better relationship between brothers. I couldn't have imagined a more precious child. I am so lucky to be your mom, and I hope you know that. I hope you know how much I love you. I hope that you know how proud of you I am. I hope you know how wonderfully made you truly are.

Happy birthday, Big Boy Ei. I love you so very, very much.
Love,
Mama

Not My Week

What a week.

Ei took nap Sunday afternoon. I should have known something was up then. Around midnight Sunday he woke up wheezing and gasping for air. I wrapped him in a blanket and took him outside. We sat there for about 10 minutes until he complained that he was cold. I brought him in. He was still having a hard time breathing, so I called the doctor who told us to bring him to the ER. Mike put him in the shower while I got ready to go. We got to the ER around 1:30. They gave him a breathing treatment and oral steroids and said we could probably go home in 2 hours. At 4:00 they gave him another treatment and said he would be admitted to the hospital. Tuesday, 5 breathing treatments and 2 days later, we finally got to go home.

Monday morning Mike's stepfather began a series of 7 days of continuous chemotherapy. The idea is to kill off all of his bone marrow. Hopefully it will then begin to slowly regenerate. Most likely it will not, and we will not have him with us by Thanksgiving.

So, yeah, it's not been a good week.

But here's what I learned:

1. Some things are not in my control. As badly as I would like to, I cannot stop bad things from happening, and I don't have a solution for every problem.

2. The world does not fall out of orbit if I am away for a few days. Other mothers can host a Halloween party. The other parent can care for a grumpy baby.

3. I have an amazing support system. My phone didn't stop ringing the entire time I was in the hospital. We had a steady stream of visitors. Family members canceled plans to pitch in and help with Jackson and Aaron. Friends made meals for us after we got home.

I have several thoughts swirling around in my head after all this, and maybe some day they will make it into full posts. For now, my house is messier than it's ever been (I'm not exaggerating). Fortunately, I don't have to cook tonight because of aforementioned friends. So, to everyone who called, visited, babysat, made a meal, sent a balloon, or said a silent prayer for us--THANK YOU.

E-I-E-I-O

When Ei was born, Jackson was 13 months old. Obviously he didn't have a huge vocabulary at that age. I kept showing him the baby and saying "Ethan, his name is Ethan," and Jackson would reply, "E-i-e-i-o." And it stuck. 3 years later, he's still our Ei.

Saturday Ei turned 3. It's amazing how quickly time goes by when you're in love. As I did with Jackson, I will share some of the things I love about Ei, in no particular order.

He can talk to anyone, anywhere, about anything. But he can also be quite shy.

He makes baby Aaron laugh every time he plays with him.

He knows the name of every single Bob the Builder car, all the tools in Handy Manny, and has memorized his favorite picture books. But he can't seem to remember where his shoes go.

He can talk for a full 5 minutes without ever saying anything.

He still loves to sit in my lap.

His smile lights up my whole day.

He says he's sorry when he makes a mistake--and means it.

He occasionally says he wants to talk to me, but he doesn't even have anything to talk about. He just wants to talk to his Mama.

He has an imaginary friend named Ranch. He's always got a story about her.

He loves our dog and is very gentle with her.

After Communion he whispers (too loudly), "I want more!"

He gives slobbery kisses freely and often.

He can turn a boring task into a game.

He has two speeds: on and off. He's either loud and moving around or asleep. There is nothing in between.

He always has a song in his head.

He wants everyone else to be as happy as he is.

He never stays in trouble (although he's always getting into trouble) because his smile is so contagious.

He made me realize how much I love surprises.

Ei, your sweet spirit is the most amazing gift. I am so blessed to be your Mama. Every day you give me a reason to smile, and you help me remember to enjoy the journey. In your words, "You're the best!" I love being your mom, and I am so honored to be in your life. Love, Mama

Hansel and Gretel, Eat Your Heart Out

I was feeding the baby when Jackson came running into the room screaming, "POOP ON THE FLOOR!" This is not new. Ei waits until I'm busy with something, then he relieves himself on the floor, and Big Brother comes tattling. So, I was not surprised to see this.

I did, however, grow more distressed to see this.

And this.

And this.

And, eventually, this. Guess where I found him???

So, I guess I should consider this a sign of progress. I mean, he DID eventually get to the bathroom, right? I hate potty training.