Fancy Pants

I have a brother in law who's a piano player.  No, seriously...a fancy pants piano player.  I realize the technical term is 'classical performer' or 'classical pianist'.  He is that too, for sure.  But mostly I like to call him a fancy pants piano player.  He just had a really fancy pants performance last night at the school where he teaches in the Twin Cities.  It's a very well known and respected school of music.   It was one of those 'gala' type events....full of pretty people, pretty clothes and lovely music.  Rockstar and I were all set to go and then we had car trouble.  HUGE BUMMER!  I know we'll get other chances to see and hear Fancy Pants play, but still...it was disappointing. 

My Rockstar Hubby is the older brother of Fancy Pants, and the music gene decided to skip over him and land on Fancy Pants.  Sometimes I find it funny that they're even brothers.  Well, there's actually three brothers.  Fabio, the oldest.  (I call him Fabio because he's been in the entertainment industry for a long time and has acted in TV, commercials, film etc)  He's not cheesy at all like Fabio .....I just think it's funny.  Don't you? The music gene did land on him too.  Not in the same ways maybe, but he definitely got a good dose of it.   So Fabio is the oldest brother, then my Rockstar Hubby, and the baby brother is Fancy Pants.  (there are 2 sisters in the mingle...Mitzy and Muffy) but more on them another time.

Growing up on the farm Rockstar remembers many, many hours of piano being practiced in the dining room of their home.  When I say many hours, I mean MANY.  Fancy Pants was only 11 when Rockstar and I started dating, but even then he was pretty focused.  It was just a normal thing to talk above the piano, listen to the TV with the volume blaring, and take the phone into the bathroom when it rang so you could hear. 

Someone wrote on Fancy Pant's facebook wall this morning about his performance last night.  (Lots of people did...stellar reviews)  She commented on how her 4th grade piano recital kept coming to mind...how her skirt was stuck in her tights....FUNNY!!  Got me thinking of my piano recital days too.  The one time I got a piece of candy cane stuck in my tooth right before I was to play 'Dance of the Christmas Elves'. The whole time I played I could hardly concentrate as my tongue kept trying to dislodge the big piece of peppermint in my tooth.  I remember sweaty palms, the nervousness of knowing everyone was watching you.  How my fingers would feel kind of stiff and cold....like I couldn't move them to play the song.  I'll bet a million dollars Fancy Pants did not have cold, stiff fingers, and that he did NOT have a candy cane before his performance...although I do have it on record that he diligently makes sure his fly is zipped before walking on stage.  Good strategy.

I took piano lessons for 10, maybe 12 years.  My youngest daughter is taking lessons now that we finally have a piano in our home.  I'm glad my parents gave me the opportunity to learn.  I'm thinking I might even want to take a refresher lesson or two...I think I'd enjoy playing for fun every now and again.  I'll never be Fancy Pants...that's for sure...but I'll also never have to worry about getting my skirt stuck in my tights, and I won't chew on a candy cane before I play. I might check my fly though.  Seriously that's good thinking. 

Someone has to be bossy

I think I'm bossy.  I try not to be...but in reality the buck stops with me...on so many levels, and usually by necessity. Examples: Laundry (washed, dried, folded and put away) right there...that's 4 bucks.   Clean toilets, clean floors, clean sheets, clean teeth, buck...buck...buck...buck...buck.  "Be respectful to your sister." "Don't take that tone with me." "No you cannot drive your friends today."  "Yes, we can talk about that issue later"  "Yes, you have to take out the garbage and clean your room before basketball."  Buck...buck...buck...buck..  Don't get me started on homeschooling.  Lotsa bucks.  I should be a millionaire.  So I said at the beginning of this that I feel bossy.  It's this 'thing' that I don't like.  The balancing act of being firm but not a dictator.  Who wants to live with Stalin?  And yet every now and then I need to use my mean voice to avoid catastrophic household meltdown.   (My mean voice is something my brother in law told me about) He lived with us for a time...and apparently is a witness to this vocal technique of mine.

I'm a firstborn.  I display many classic firstborn traits.  Independent. Little bit type A.  Little bit of a perfectionist.  Little bit wanting things my own way.  I say 'little bit' because I have mellowed out since my 'Mom Junior' days.  Mom Junior you ask?  Yes.  I have two brothers, 5 and 8 years younger than me and Mom Junior was the pet name they lovingly called me.  (Ok, so the lovingly part is probably part of my selective memory)  I'm pretty sure they called me other names when I was out of ear shot.  And I'm also pretty sure that lovingly didn't show up for those either.

But listen, you can't really blame me.  I mean, how would you react if your parents looked your two little brothers in the eyes and intently said "While we are gone tonight, your sister is in charge, so you need to listen to her."  I don't know about you, but just remembering this makes me giddy with the feeling of power...and a little evil laugh wants to escape my throat.  C'mon people don't judge!  You know that little bit of Stalin in everyone wants to come out and play.  Ok, Stalin is really too terrible of an idea, so think Simon Cowell instead. 

So the buck started stopping with me at a young age.  In some ways it's prepared me well for all the buck stopping I need to do on a daily basis.  Although I'm not sure my brothers would agree that waiting on me hand and foot was really necessary for my future well being.  They also might take issue with me ordering them around like little soldiers, doing my bidding just for the sake of doing my bidding.  (You may be wondering if we're on speaking terms, the brothers and me...)  Yes we are!  In fact we get along famously well!!  I think it's all 'bossy sister water under the bridge' now.  I'm never invited to their family gatherings and their children don't know Aunt Jen, but I'm pretty sure we're on good terms. 

So the whole Mom Junior issue aside...maybe I'm not that bossy. Maybe I just have a normal life with normal issues.  Normal kids, who need supervision, guidance,  and love.  A husband who also manages lots of his own bucks and does a fabulous job by the way.   Maybe I too, am  just a regular woman with a lot of bucks.  It's too bad more of them aren't the green paper kind. The Benjamins. That might be kind of fun to experience for a while.   I wouldn't even use my mean voice if they wanted to stop with me. 

Backseats & Burritos

I've been gone...not  for very long...just a short overnight roadtrip with my parents.  In some ways it reminded me of the trips we'd take as a family growing up.  My two younger brothers and I in the backseat.  One memorable time we drove from MN to WA in a Dodge Omni!  Anyone remember those?  I laugh now thinking about how we'd take turns in the hatchback where we could 'stretch' out.  If it was the right time of day it was the best spot in the whole car.  If it was when the sun beat down through the window, well then it was more like being a burrito in a microwave.  Of course being the eldest, and the 'bossy sister'  (what good is a birthright if not to avoid baking in the hatchback) I made sure one of my brothers was always the designated burrito.  And believe me they smelled like one too after being back there for a few hours. 

This road trip with my parents wasn't in an Omni thank goodness.  We weren't  pulling a royal blue trailer full of  luggage and a cooler of  Grape Shasta and sandwhiches.  We were comfortable in the Grand Caravan, drinks in the cupholders, the temperature a perfect 70 degrees. Tinted windows to keep us from microwaving. We've come a long way baby.  For some reason though, when you go somewhere with your parents you are the child again no matter if you're 42, have 3 kids of your own and buy your own Shasta. 

PROS & CONS OF AN ADULT ROAD TRIP WITH YOUR PARENTS:

CON: You need to pee more often when your'e 42.
PRO: Your dad will stop and let you pee when you tell him you need to.
CON: You have to buy your own chicken sandwhich at McDonald's.
PRO: Your parents treat you to a really, really nice dinner out. 
CON: You can't pick the bed by the window in the hotel room.  Dad wants that one.
PRO: Dad & Mom pay for the room.  Score!!
CON: I can't climb in the middle of their bed if I get scared in the night.
PRO: Thank goodness I don't get scared in the middle of the night.
CON: You are still relegated to the backseat.
PRO: You get to be the backseat driver because you are the one who knows their way around.  And the backseat isn't so bad anymore since the brothers and burritos are a non issue.
CON: While dad is working at the trade show, you are at the mercy of your mother,  who wants to shop, but doesn't want to drive. (that's why you've been asked along on this trip by the way)  So any agenda of your own is out the window.  You are daughter chauffer.
PRO: You love shopping with your mother...and you love driving in the 'big city' so it's not such a big sacrifice.  And you're not driving the Omni. (and mom buys you lunch...and a coffee, and tells you what a good driver you are)

See, so even the cons in this really aren't cons. It was a fun time... my parents are pretty hip for old people.  I'm thankful that they would ask their daughter to join them on a roadtrip. (after that old people crack I might not be invited again however...or even asked home for Christmas)  But I doubt it...I know they remember the Omni days too...so I know I'm the favorite child...I'm the one who always smelled least like a burrito.  See, my birthright has not gone to waste.