Musical Interlude

Mama and I were cleaning out CDs yesterday and came across both Raffi and Laurie Berkner.  Suddenly, the kids were just three-years old, dancing to "Baby Beluga" and laughing to "Willaby Wallaby Woo," stomping to "We are the Dinosaurs" (and curling up in the exact same positions--Bud on his tummy, butt up; Sis on her side sniffing Shirt) and running around to "I'm Gonna Catch You."  So this evening, we played some of the music for them.  They didn't remember the names of either artist but immediately recalled several of the songs.  Soon, they were running around, giggling, falling on the floor, stomping . . . and there I was all weepy and laughing, too.

Tomorrow, Imagination Movers!

Rocketship Run

"5-4-3-2-1, Blast off!
Another Rocketship Run!"

The kids are hooked on outer space and Laurie Berkner's music is their themesong.

They have been talking about outer space regularly for a few days. I don't know what started it--the trip to AMNH with its giant meteorite, an episode of "Caillou" where he goes to the Planetarium, "Magic School Bus Gets Lost in Space" episodes complete with space helmets and asteroids heading to Earth, or a new-to-us book called Here in Space about how Earth is part of space and a great place for a little boy space explorer.

"5-4-3-2-1, Blast off!
Another Rocketship Run!"

Bud and Sis have repeatedly asked me if we live on a planet. They want to know if Gommie and Pop, Aunt Banana and Uncle Soccer, and Miss T live on our planet (for awhile Miss T, they thought you'd "left the planet" and Sis said it just wasn't "the same planet without you.") And are curious if our planet is in outer space. Does that make us aliens? or astronauts? They want to know if the sun is a planet and how far away the stars are. They are concerned about the meteorites that wiped out the dinosaurs (it's in one of their books) and want to know how big that rock must have been.

"5-4-3-2-1, Blast off!
Another Rocketship Run!"

Today, they played rocketship. They set out two big pillows on the floor, with wooden blocks under them (Sis said they were "mission control" things; Bud said they were "landers"). They filled the pillows with their critters, fetched magnifying glasses, put on their outdoor plastic rainboot "space boots," and then donned their great big Rubbermaid reusable plastic salad bowl "space helmets."

"5-4-3-2-1, Blast off!
Another Rocketship Run!"

In space, they headed to the moon where they picked up their magnifying glasses and looked for "space insects," walking around the house with those bowls on their heads, and their pink (hers) and yellow (his) boots. At one point Sis's hat rolled away and she rushed back to her spaceship pillow, knowing she shouldn't float around in space without her gear. The game pretty much ended there because she didn't want to fetch it and didn't want Bud to be "swooshed away" either.

"5-4-3-2-1, Blast off!
Another Rocketship Run!"

Later, Sis was drawing circular rocks on a doodle board, explaining they were "pretend meteorites heading right here." Bud took her very seriously and got quite upset, even when we both explained to him that she was pretending and that the meteorites weren't real. It might be all fun and games, but outer space can be a scary place. I just hope it's fun again tomorrow.

"5-4-3-2-1, Blast off!
Another Rocketship Run!"

Laurie Berkner Redux

My friends thought I was crazy . . . again.

And none of them wanted to come with us.

But we bought tickets anyway.

And today we saw The Laurie Berkner Band in concert. Again.

"Again" if you count the twenty minutes we saw of them at Carnegie Hall.

Today was everything that day wasn't. Except the friends who sat with us and the food, because lunch at Carnegie Deli beats Friendly's anytime (in our defense, we had wanted to go to the more local Chowder Pot but the wait was too long).

But otherwise, there was no long train ride, no time change, no great long walk, no marathon to work around, no late start (even later because the person who introduced them went too long), no 4th balcony front row seats with a steep drop, and no missed nap early afternoon breakdown.

It was perfect. We had an easy drive to Hartford listening to baroque music on NPR. "Violin sounds?" DS asked. "That's your favorite instrument," DD reminded him. We parked across the street from the theater and walked right in. A quick trip to the bathroom, followed by a long raisin and cereal snack to ward off hunger, and we went to our orchestra-level aisle seats, with our shaky eggs brought from the last concert.

And I heard every song. And so did DS. And DD, though she left a few times to shop with DP, who brought back little beanie tigers and t-shirts for the 3 of us (sans her) and the songbook and storybooks, heard most songs, got to shake her egg to the "I Know a Chicken" song and put her tiger on her head when Laurie put a pig on hers. She danced in the aisles, marched like a dinosaur, and crawled around meowing like the cat who came back. Meanwhile, DS sat on my lap mesmerized. I think he only laughed or spoke during "I'm Gonna Catch You" when I mercilessly tickled him. But you could tell he was having a marvelous time, taking it all in. I think DP had a great time too, once she got comfortable with DD running up and down the aisles with all the bigger kids. No doubt DD will tell us tomorrow what Susie was wearing. And DS will talk about Laurie's blue and purple guitars.

I'm so glad we went. And it made me so glad we'd gone to Carnegie Hall too. That experience wasn't a waste. I think it made the experience today possible--we're older, wiser, better prepared.

Can't wait for the next one! In Hartford, at Carnegie Hall, for Laurie Berkner, or for violins . . .

That be Fun

I thought we were going to the Laurie Berkner concert for the kids. But I realized today that I wanted to go for myself. This became abundantly clear when DD had a breakdown 20 minutes into the show and wanted to go home. DP took her into the lobby to recover, though she was calling for me, but I stayed behind with DS. He quickly decided that he couldn't be without his sissy. So we left. And I didn't want to. I like Laurie Berkner. She's pretty much the only music I listen to these days and I like it. She's kinda like a silly Indigo Girl. Maybe a little funkier. And I wanted to see her. And I didn't want to go home. This was my day in the city, something wildly different from my usual suburban day, and I wanted it to be perfect, transcendant, even.

Let me start from the beginning.

The inspiration came to me as I was checking out the LB website for upcoming tv appearances. There was a concert. In the city. "That be fun," as DS says. We liked her CDs, watched her DVD, and saw her on Noggin and Jack's Big Music Show. Everytime we passed a certain clump of trees outside the library, DS would sit down and start singing, "Under a Shady Tree." I always invoked the dinosaur song, with "stop and take a rest," during naptime. We loved to play chase to "I'm Gonna Catch You," ever since we first heard that song at a church playgroup. Surely we were old enough to sit and listen to our favorite musician for an hour.

I told my friends and my playgroup, and three other families thought "that be fun" too. On the day the tickets went on sale, DP was charged with securing the best seats. Then the Carnegie Hall website crashed, sending panic throughout tristate suburbia and preschooler parents everywhere. But got the tickets we did, eventually. DP swore she wasn't going to be the one parent to turn up ticketless. I think it took her an hour. By then, we had balcony seats, but all the way at the front. This made me a little nervous, given our propensity for throwing things and climbing, but surely there would be enough distractions.

For weeks, we discussed ideas for the day (being the New Yorkers in the group--her by birth, me because we were living in the city on September 11. Yes, Mom, I'm still a Texan. It's a paradox. And another post.): driving, train, or a combo? Would we travel together as a group and have lunch? We learned it was NYC Marathon day. Hmmm, that made driving a challenge. So we were going to drive halfway and take the train the rest of the way. But the availability of seats on the way in and the traffic on the way home squashed that. So, train all the way it was. Where to eat? Something toursity and predictable like Hard Rock? Or take our chances with local cafes. Finally, we decided Carnegie Deli would work for our allergies, with turkey and matzo ball soup.

The day arrived--beautiful, especially after the hurricane that was Day out with Thomas--and the kids were excited. They loved the train ride in, even enjoying playing "fort" in the shelter on the platform with DP as we waited for it to arrive. Perfect facing window seats let each of them have a window and they looked out excitedly identifying clouds, trees, cars, trucks, boats, and bridges. And talked about all the people and what they were wearing--the man behind us, fully decked out in Redskins paraphenalia for the game, was the "Red Man." Apropos, no? Actually, looking around the train--with the orthodox Jewish family next to us, several Asian men, and several African Americans--reminded me of the importance of leaving our rather uniform small town (where we are the diversity for others) and visiting the menagerie of the city. Though, I soon became rather uncomfortable with the "talk about the people" game and issued a "it's not nice to talk about other people" edict. I could just hear them saying something about someone being big or old.

They loved walking off the platform into the giant space that is GCT. DD just stood there, mouth agape, spinning around looking at the stars and all the people. DS was a little overwhelmed and needed us in hand for the walk to the subway. Which they loved. DP let DD hang from the overhead bar, the city's littlest straphanger. DS followed suit and they (and the other, probably out of town, riders) laughed all the way to Carnegie Hall.

And we got out in the crisp, cool air of a beautiful fall day, surrounded by imposing, impressive skyscreapers. The sidewalks were full of cops and pedestrians heading to the marathon, with taxis and buses and cars heading away from the closed streets. And, oh, that NYC smell. We walked towards CPS and got lots of orange doo-dads from the ING people--hats, glasses, and pom pons--to cheer for marathoners. We didn't see too many, just a few men and women in the wheelchair cycles. But DS wore his hat and waved his pom pon each time they passed. DD was more interested in the smell. I had realized I could smell horses and so she started sniffing and then kepty asking where they were. A pile of manure proved they had been there recently.

Lunch was at Carnegie Deli--corned beef for me and DP, turkey and matzo ball soup for the kids--though both ate more pickles than anything else. And DD liked the corned beef more than the turkey; she is DP's daugher, afterall. And as lunch ended, DP realized the waitresses were talking about the twins in Thai, so she interjected and suddenly we had a whole coterie of waitresses admiring their skin color and wider-than-almond eyes--"not the slit eyes of the Chinese''--DP held her tongue. And the kids said "Sawadee" to them all.

And it was time for the concert. At Carnegie Hall. Ironically, it was my very first concert there. And it's beautiful, even filled with crying toddlers missing their afternoon naps. We got two "Shaky Eggs" to play with and then tried desperately to wait for the doors to open. The poor house staff; I'm not sure they're used to preschoolers running and climbing everywhere and they were so flustered. They even opened early, I think, because of the mounting chaos in the lobby.

Our seats were frightening--first row, top balcony--perfect for dropping shaky eggs or programs on other preschoolers, or whole toddler bodies. Did I mention I don't like heights? I'm sure I scared the kids with the death grips in which I held their little excited bodies.

And then some guy talked. Yadda-yadda-yadda. We need Laurie! Don't you understand we were up an hour early because of the time change? That we walked and left strollers at home? That we didn't nap yet? This concert needs to start and finish before BREAKDOWN time.

Later, DD told us that Laurie wore yellow and Susie wore brown. DP didn't even know Susie's name. But then she doesn't know all the words to "I'm a Mess" either. And they played guitars. And the piano. DD sat mesmerized and stared at it all. DS did too, as I bounced him on my knee and sang the songs. Most of our favorites.

But we lost it before "Pig on Her Head." And I could see the pig sitting on the prop table so I knew it was coming. But DD was done. And then DS didn't want to be there alone. And we quickly took a cab to GCT, where we caught the same train we would have if we'd seen the whole thing.

And I cried all the way there, just as they cried all the way home on the train. I was disappointed. I wanted to see the concert. I wanted it to be this memorable, amazing experience. And we didn't get to see it all. And they weren't happy; indeed, they were miserable. And it was my fault. I had dragged us to this concert, thinking it was such a good idea. With no strollers, with no nap. And I was embarrassed, ashamed even, in front of my friends, not because the kids were upset but because it hadn't gone well, because somehow I had done something wrong, because I had failed my kids.

The next day, all they remembered was how much fun they had. That Susie had worn brown. And Laurie had played the guitar. That we had sung and danced. And they had ridden in a taxi. That be fun.