Blink

My mom used to tell me, "Just wait. You'll blink your eyes and decades will have passed. You'll look up and see your grown kids having kids of their own, and you'll have no idea how so much happened so fast." 


I wanted to believe her when I was in Jr. High-I hated those years. But every time I blinked, things looked exactly the same...I was chubby, the boy I had a crush on was still dating the head cheerleader, and being the first-chair flute player in the band equalled zero points on the popularity meter. In fact, I think it actually caused my meter to dip down into the negatives.


I wanted to believe her when my second daughter was colicky and cried without ceasing for months on end. But even when I blinked as slowly as I possibly could, she was still howling, whether in her carseat on top of the dryer, in her bouncy chair in front of a running shower, or any of the other mythical colic-relieving places my "What to Expect" book talked about.


I especially wanted to believe her when my oldest would come home from grade school with hurt feelings and a broken heart. How I wanted to fast forward to better days, when differences would be valued instead of becoming fodder for cruel teasing. But blink after blink, her little head remained buried in the pillow, sobbing and wishing to be anyone else but herself.


Today, however, I believe what my mother said. When I looked at the date this morning and realized that it's been SIX months since the day we waved goodbye to Texas and said hello to NYC, I could hardly believe it. Whether it's my ripe old age or just the effect of living in a fast-paced city, there's no denying that all that's happened in this half of a calendar year truly feels like a blink. 


Because it would take too long to neatly list out all that's transpired in our new adventure, and in honor of the Christmas holiday, I've decided to condense the highlights of the past six months into a song, a la "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I will, however, cut the length in half in case you truly want to sing aloud. So, without further ado, I give you "The Six Months of City Life."

In the first month of city life NYC gave to us

The best park in this whole wide world

Central Park, summer 2010

In the second month of city life NYC gave to us

A crash course in Shakespeare

Monologues from Shakespeare's "A Winter's Tale"
August 2010

And the best park in this whole wide world

In the third month of city life NYC gave to us

Concerts and shows

Billy Elliot

Rock of Ages

Mumford and Sons

Sarah Jarosz

Improv for Kids

Improv for Kids

Emma in "The Wind in the Willows"
Fall 2010

Abby in "The Wind in the Willows"
Fall 2010

A crash course in Shakespeare

And the best park in this whole wide world

In the fourth month of city life NYC gave to us

Lots and lots of visitors

Concerts and shows

A crash course in Shakespeare

And the best park in this whole wide world

In the fifth month of city life NYC gave to us

A truly amazing parade!!

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade 2010

Lots and lots of visitors

Concerts and shows

A crash course in Shakespeare

And the best park in this whole wide world

In the sixth month of city life NYC gave to us

A Christmas like no other

A truly amazing parade!!

Lots and lots of visitors

Concerts and shows

A crash course in Shakespeare

And the best park in this whole wide world

Hope you enjoyed the song. We really do love it here in NYC. 

And, just so you know, I think my husband is much cuter than my Jr. High crush, and I'm thankful that my musical abilities have translated into a very meaningful life. My youngest daughter, who is now 12, sleeps through the night with nary a cry. And my oldest, now 14, has more friends than ever and thanks God every night for her uniqueness.

Things do change. Life should never be taken for granted. Every moment counts. Merry Christmas.

Acoustic Junkie

I am a junkie. I'll admit it. I need my fix...singer-songwriters who sit on stools and play old beat-up guitars and pour out their heart stories through beautiful, intimate lyrics that come to them in the middle of the night, set to melodies that are haunting and lovely. Deep down I long to be in their club. But alas, at least at this point in my life, I am not. My best attempts at song-writing have ended in staff paper torn to shreds, usually beside an empty glass of wine.

I do, however, trust my ability to know musical brilliance when I hear it. Take, for instance, the first time I heard a David Wilcox song. That baritone voice, those incredible lyrics...I was an instant convert. There's Beth Wood...the voice that is somehow a mix of every female singer I've ever admired, so beautifully summing up the human experience in her poignant lyrics...ahhhh. And my sweet friends, Kari and Jared Dobbs. I will never tire of hearing my "Mosey" favorites.


A few weekends ago, a new acoustic wonder entered my personal Hall of Fame. The difference for this singer, however, is the number of years she's been on the planet Earth. At the ripe old age of 19, Sarah Jarosz has penned words and melodies that you would swear came from the soul of a well-traveled, road-weary, experience-rich musician, well beyond ages I would consider "middle." (I am, sadly, firmly in that club). I had heard recordings, but when I saw this Wimberley, TX native singing live in a tiny park next to the 72nd Street Subway Station, I knew that I was witnessing something special. This girl is going to make a mark that lasts for a long, long time. And I got a fix that still hasn't worn off.

Defying Convention

Labor Day 2010 will go down in Hedrick Family History as a day to remember. We witnessed something truly remarkable, a once in a lifetime kind of thing. Not our typical swimming, grilling burgers, hanging-out-with-friends-before-the-school-year-really-kicks-into-gear kind of day. This was something special.

From the advice of a new friend, I bought a family membership to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I knew it was a great place, but with my limited knowledge of all things art-related, I wasn't sure we would visit enough to get our money's worth. One trip there and I knew I was wrong. We could go every day for an entire year and still fail to see and experience everything the Met has to offer.

So when I saw a flyer for an exhibition going on atop the roof of the museum, I figured we might as well try it. It sounded fascinating...an ongoing construction project of a monumental bamboo structure, set to measure 100 feet long, 50 feet wide, and 50 feet high. Called the "Big Bambu," the New Jersey artists, identical twins Doug and Mike Starn, along with a crew of rockclimbers, have created a network of 5,000 30 and 40 foot long bamboo poles, tied together with 50 miles of nylon rope. An internal footpath allows groups of visitors to walk up and around on guided tours, taking in breathtaking views of the structure itself, as well as Central Park, which is about 110 feet below the highest viewing platform.

As we all got up early, I hoped that waking the entire family on a rare sleep-late-without-guilt day would prove to be worth it. We got to the museum around 8:45 and got in line for tickets that would be handed out at 9:30. When they started sending people away at 9:05, we breathed a sigh of relief that somehow we made the cut. Once we finally received our tickets, the earliest tour available was at 11:30. We gladly signed up and toured the museum until time to climb.

Our little group of 15 started the journey after a brief description of the Starn brothers and a signed disclaimer for any injuries that might occur. I figured Cameron could prove his manhood with a one-handed save if one of the bamboo poles gave way. As we walked up to the first viewing platform, I was instantly amazed with the strength of the sculpture. The colorful nylon ropes were everywhere, adding to the beauty of this unique creation. As our guide described the vision behind the ongoing work of art and the painstaking process of building it, I began to obsess on the courage these two brothers shared. I pictured my elementary school art teacher, praising the children who colored in the lines and chastising the ones who scribbled and doodled around the edges. You couldn't help but feel that the Starn brothers must have been significant doodlers.

We continued up the winding footpath, surrounded by the amazing network of poles. It felt like being inside the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse. We finally reached the next platform, which had been dubbed "the living room." We all took a seat on the bamboo benches, noticing the abundance of bamboo cup holders (apparently the brothers like to host after-hours parties up there) and various bamboo adornments, such as a nylon-rope guitar and an intricate wind chime. Both of the girls agreed that they would like to live there for a while.

Our guide split us into smaller groups for the final platform viewing. We ascended to a spot about 40 feet above the rooftop, able to look out over the entire sculpture. He said the brothers had an image in mind as they watched over the creation of Big Bambu and wanted us to guess what it was. Cameron guessed a roller coaster, and I was quite sure he was right. The rising and falling lines of the sculpture were magnificent. But ultimately, the answer was a cresting wave that portrays movement, power and life. Of course. It was so clear once you knew...you could almost hear the water crashing right there in the middle of Central Park.

As we waited for the next group to come back from the highest vantage point, we settled into the benches and began to talk about the limits we put on our minds as adults. When we were kids, talking about building a 50 foot tall bamboo structure that people could walk through would strike no one as strange. We might even try to attempt it on the school playground, although the $40 a pole price tag might cause us to look for a cheaper building material. 

Somehow as we grow, we become so afraid of looking weird, of sounding outlandish, of having dreams that go too far beyond the boundaries of what is acceptable. We diminish our imaginations and fold everything up to fit neatly into the little box of convention that we impose upon ourselves.

Oh, to defy convention. To dream big and bright and boundless, without fear or disbelief. 

Here's to bamboo, and twin brothers who never grew up.

Home School Highlights

A week and 1/2 into our home school year, I am amazed at what's happened around this little apartment. Who knew so much life could be squeezed into a span of ten days when those days are spent in really, really close proximity to one another? My head is spinning with a menagerie of moments, so I'm just going to put down my thoughts, bullet-point style.

**Thank you to every teacher who ever worked with my girls in the past. Seriously. I feel like I'm cheating a little bit because I'm starting the home school journey with kids that will sit and listen. And finish a whole lesson. And ask me to please grade them more fairly, because really, it isn't right that I gave them 100% when I allowed them to correct a problem they originally missed...shouldn't I take an average of the two grades? (OK, that was just Abby.  Emma gladly takes the 100%). I'd like to take credit for these learning skills they've acquired, but I know that most of it comes from a slew of patient, loving, creative, giving, making-far-less-money-than-they-deserve teachers from our past. And I am truly grateful to each one of you.

**I am a music teacher by trade. I am supposed to have daughters that, by now, have been exposed to all kinds of musical genres and experiences, and have developed beautiful pitch, and can count any rhythm put in front of them. But guess what? I was usually so tired of music by the end of the school day, all I wanted was peace and quiet.  So with renewed energy, some of my favorite home school moments thus far have been very musical. I like to start the day off with rhythm and sight singing exercises, and we always end up doing them in canon (think Row, Row, Row Your Boat in a round) just because we're goofy that way. It feels good to share one of the greatest joys of my life with two of the greatest joys of my life.

**I speak from experience when I say that one of the greatest frustrations a teacher experiences is figuring out how to keep the right pace when you're teaching 20+ kids.  Because all of them work at a slightly different speed. And it can make you a crazy person when you realize that you can't possibly find a happy medium for that many children. So, there's been an unexpected sense of giddiness, both from my end and from the girls, when we realize that there's no need to wait for anyone else to move on. Emma, my word-lover, gets a kick out of seeing how fast she can take a spelling test. I will still be reading the example sentence when she wants to move on to the next word...and I'm OK with that, because she's my only spelling student! Abby has a daily goal of being through with school by 2:00, because she can move from subject to subject in the time it takes to walk from the table to the bookshelf. She often chooses to work as she eats her lunch. And again, that's fine with me...gives her more time to help me do afternoon laundry!

**Alternate learning environments. That's my new catch-phrase for the many places we've discovered to transfer our lessons during the day. Central Park still ranks as #1, but our apartment building's rooftop green space is coming in at a close second lately. The skinny apartment balcony is a close third, although high winds can quickly send you inside. And, believe it or not, our preferred method of transportation, the good ol' metro bus, is a great place to finish a book you've been working on, as long as you're lucky enough to find a seat. Standing + reading = disaster. Trust us.

**PE. That's right, physical education. The most dreaded part of the day for me when I was a kid. Suddenly, we live for PE. All three of us. Trips down to the workout room, walks around the block, weight-lifting by lugging as many bags of groceries as we can handle...that's my kind of PE. We decided to make PE the most important subject one day this week-we filled backpacks with books and water bottles and headed over to Central Park, walking the entire length-about 50 blocks. We did stop along the way to read, explore and climb a tree or two. And ending the trek at FAO Schwarz, the infamous toy store, didn't hurt. Even still, I enjoyed being called "Coach Hedrick" for a day.

**Extra-curricular opportunities abound here in the Big Apple. I love that we can rearrange our daily schedule for a voice lesson, or co-op classes, or play rehearsals. And if they happen to hit at 1:00 in the afternoon, no big deal. The social interaction that happens during these times is priceless, too-there's no shortage of friendships in the NYC home school community!

Now, I am not saying that home schooling is perfect. Or always easy. There are many mornings that the girls wish for different classmates. And a different teacher. And I sometimes wish for different students. But all in all, we are very happy for this season in our lives. I have seen facets of my children that I didn't know existed. And I'm extremely thankful for this opportunity. And for New York. And for dvd-based math lessons.