2nd Time's A Charm

Hey! So, we had another baby! It's taken me awhile to write about this mostly due to sheer sleepiness and no time whatsoever. Seriously. I can't even return my parents' phone calls. However, in the wake of all the fallout regarding opening or revisiting conversations regarding mental health and depression, I'm going to try to put this all down.

In short: I was terrified for 9 months due to the PTSD and postpartum depression I suffered after the birth of our first. Terrified. Therefore, that and the absence of tequila made for a
VERY. LONG. PREGNANCY.

Last October when we decided to have another child, I was all, "YEAH! LET'S DO THIS!" and then two days after seeing the positive pregnancy test, was curled up in the fetal position. I was convinced I was going to die. Actually had to do some MAJOR working through emotionally and spiritually for 9 months about this. It may not make a lot of sense to a lot of people, but it's like...my body chose flight from the very beginning, and even when I was in the hospital I had a hard time getting my body and my brain and my soul convinced that it was go time. For 9 months, my brain told me awful stories over and over again, random events being taken and twisted. Awful stuff. I wanted to get back on my antidepressant but unfortunately that made me feel physically horrible and even more mentally unstable so I dropped that idea pretty quickly. I had to walk, eat fresh and nutritious food, and be real with my mama tribe - trust the community that I had to work to be a part of for 3 years.

Fortunately, I had a completely different social, emotional, and professional framework from which to approach this pregnancy. Love, support, open arms and ears from every which way. There was an outpouring of information and cheering-on from women who had VBAC'd before, and not just women in my generation. In fact, the aunts and friends with college-age children taught me so much about their VBAC experiences. It was beautiful. I still puked nearly every day until discovering the magic of Zantac in the third trimester, and being pregnant, planning a music therapy conference, working part-ish time while chasing a preschooler...it takes a lot out of a person. There are so many things that made it all tolerable - friends stealing my oldest so I could nap or just have time to think my thoughts, or supper sharing (You have corn chips and beans? I have chicken and cheese! Let's make nachos!), and not to mention friends with stashes of Zofran. There were gorgeous mother blessings, and in the week between 40- and 41- weeks, there were innumerable "random" kindnesses. Our elderly neighbors brought us cookies, people called or Emailed to check-in, and sweet ladies texted me not "have you had that baby yet?" but "thinking about you and holding you up in love" type texts. I cried at the abundance of support.

My wonderfully VBAC-cheerleading doctor was scheduled to deliver her own baby the same week I was due. This sent me into a bit of a frenzy of doubt and I considered changing doctors. I was talked off that ledge and eventually did need to be transferred to the care of another doctor, but after a lot of talking and crying and journaling and more counsel from wise women, ended up being fine with it. After all, the doctor's job is to generally catch the baby or intervene when necessary and that one person may or may not end up on call when your time comes, so there's really no point in holding on so tightly to the thought of one person making or breaking your experience. I trusted the facility where I would be birthing, trusted my birth team, so I slowly came around to trusting that everything was going to be okay. I had to decide that I would be the one deciding how my experience would go. Mentally I held VBAC-ing at a distance. I wasn't married to the idea, just because I didn't want to be disappointed. I set my expectations bar very, very low for this birth. My goal was to come home healthy, with a healthy baby, without feeling like a prisoner of war. Everything else I could take or leave.

My due date came and went. No baby. Of course. I was not at all expecting anything early to happen. Hopeful? Yes. Dubious? Totally. Since my first was born at 42.5 weeks I just hunkered, stayed away from my phone and Facebook and walked like I had never walked before. I did all the interventions I knew how to. Red Raspberry Leaf tea, Evening Primrose Oil up one side and down the other (you'll know what this means if you're in a crunchy birth community. If not, ask me about it.), sex, everything. My body just was not ready at 40 weeks. Around 40.5 (Monday) I had a nonstress test, and everything looked great but fluid levels were a little iffy, so the doc wanted me to come back on Wednesday to repeat the test. Tuesday I tried castor oil, and while it made me power puke, it did not start off contractions. I went back in on Wednesday morning, where we found out the fluid levels had dropped, and she had me go "straight to L&D." Do not go home, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Well.

Since I had eaten a paltry breakfast due to the effects of the previous nights castor oil extravaganza, I instead went to get a turkey sandwich, got adjusted by my chiro, and then went to L&D. I might have a little bit of a problem with authority. I got hooked up and answered all the check-in questions while I waited for the Mr. to show up. He had stayed home to finish up packing and deliver our daughter to the friends watching her for the day. When he arrived, the doctor did as well and placed the foley bulb. She maybe got a little flustered and asked if I had gone home because everything was "behind schedule." She and I were clearly not a match made in heaven, but whatever. She checked to make sure that I was at least a little dilated, and I could feel her fingers on the baby's head.

A foley bulb and low dose pitocin induction is a great option for VBAC mamas. The foley manually dilates the cervix but is kind of awkward - there's the bulb inside and then this long tube and then a bag of saline dangling for counter pressure, and YES it is just about as awkward as you can imagine that whole scenario. Upon reaching 4 cm, the bulb falls out and then the rest of labor should be pretty straightforward. So the doc places the foley bulb and I start getting my fainting aura of slowly not being able to hear. My sweet nurse rushed to put a wet cloth on my forehead and get me some ice. Bless her.

I made it to 4 cm and the bulb fell out and there were high fives all around. And then the doc came in to break my water and realized, right hand checking for dilation and left hand wielding a crochet hook looking device like a wizard wand, that the baby had turned. Transverse. She put the hook down and asked to turn off the pitocin and asked for a sono machine. The Mr. texted my doula who came rushing in from a twin birth to see what was going on. Doc says "c section" and I say, "give me time." Actually, I totally freaked out and ugly cried, and THEN requested some time. During this time I had like, three doulas around me trying to figure out every which way to turn the baby. We were on the spinning babies website, doing inversions, and at one point even had ice and peppermint oil on his head to see if he would turn. Nothing. After about an hour and a half the doc came back in and the nugget was still in the same position, and babies don't come out transverse.

So, we settled in to wait our turn in the OR, chatting and telling jokes. When it was time I walked into the OR, had a long talk with the anesthesiologist so he could keep an eye on my blood pressure, and they hooked up my Spotify "Labor and Birth" playlist. I was nervous, so that means I chatted nonsensically with everyone in the room, and an OR tech kept asking me about my awesome songs that were, in his words, "the perfect playlist - and I'll tell you what. I've heard a lot of these playlists. Yours is the best." Mr. S. had the job of announcing the sex of the baby, and was told to stay at my side the whole time. The surgeons got to work on me and my sweet doula kept a cotton ball of lavender by my nose so I wouldn't have to smell the cauterizing. After a bit, and a whole bunch of digging around in my uterus to get the baby to turn head down (it didn't happen - he came out breech), they said, "Ready dad?" and Mr. S stood up and said, a little choked-up, "We had a boy!"

*we have to pause right here for a minute because I am tearing-up just remembering that moment.*

Everyone in the OR cheered and cried, and I ugly-cried. I was seriously floored, surprised beyond everything, and said something special along the lines of, "I was growing a penis this whole time and had no idea!" Early on I suspected it was a boy, and now looking back I had so much that I was hoping for in this birth but was afraid to hope for, so I talked myself out of things so that I wouldn't eventually be disappointed. Not that we would have been disappointed had we had a girl because SISTERS!, and we have a really great girl name, but I loved the idea of trying something new this time, learning new things.

Here's where things in the OR get really awesome. Little man was taken over to the table to be checked out and Mr. S stayed to hold my hand. Then they brought the babe over to me and laid him on my chest while I was stitched up. As a family we gazed at each other and laughed and touched faces and nuzzled. It was the most amazing thing. I never felt alone or scared, just overwhelming joy and love. Mr. S held baby while I was put on a gurney to be wheeled to recovery and when it was all over, the babe was back on my chest. He nursed like a champ in recovery and we got to face time late with sweet A to let her know she had a little brother.

So yeah, totally different things learned the second time around. The recovery was STILL not a picnic, but my mind and body weren't fried as badly, and I wasn't scared of being a mom. In fact, I turned tearfully to Mr. S one day and said, "I think I've been depressed for four years. And now it's gone." Reminds me of a verse in Isaiah:

"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland."
43:15-16

Fits perfectly with what we named him - after a famous wilderness philanthropist.

And hey, here's my Labor and Birth Tunes playlist. He was born while "Out of the Woods" by Nickel Creek was playing, followed by "Magic" by Coldplay.

Perfectionism in Parenting

I've been thinking a lot about perfectionism, how it came to have a huge hold on some areas of my life, and how it messes with my parenting, in good ways and bad. 

If you want to talk family systems, mine's pretty non-traditional. Modern, if you will. But 30 years ago. Whatever. My parents were older when they had me, which means they were the product of a very strong and determined set of parents. I am the only child of my parents but have half-siblings all over the place, the next youngest of which is 11 years older than me. Unless you count my cousin who is really like my brother and he's like 9 years older than me but didn't really grow up in my house.

Yeah.

So basically, I grew up in a house of adults, with everyone having way more grown up expectations of me. I love my family and the people who were around me as I learned about the world. My siblings are incredibly accomplished and inspiring individuals - musicians, graphic artists, neuropsychologists, actress/gardner/divas - and ALL ALSO completely taken with perfectionism in personal and professional pursuits.

Add to that starting classical music training at a pretty early age. I showed an interest in piano at 3, learning via Suzuki method, and played recreationally until high school ended. I played in college, but only because I was enrolled in piano class, and by then my piano romance had waned quite a bit. I also played clarinet since about sixth grade like every good little band dork. I was even pretty good, and therefore thrust (jumped?) into the competitive world of UIL every year. Even though competitive musicianship quickly lost its luster in college, I continued studying music and eventually becoming a music therapist, where I've learned to be flexible in music but it allows me to be creative both musically and in the therapeutic relationship. In that vein, I totally am a perfectionist in several ways, including:

1) I am research and evidence obsessed. Look. I know music therapy can be a weird thing that people don't get - that people can think is fluffy and made up and "pseudoscience." Thanks to my graduate degree and research skills I have learned where to go for reliable information and from where I'm standing, and I tell people this every day at work, it's a great time to be a music therapist. There are neuroscientists doing incredible work that we as music therapists, with our small sample sizes and anecdotal data (due mostly to the individualized nature of music therapy), wouldn't be able to do. There are two different kinds of music therapists - the super woo woo music of the spheres kind, and the hard numbers "show me the research!" kind. I'm somewhere in the middle. I see magic happen every time I go to work, and then I get to the library and work to figure out why I see the physical and emotional reactions that I do, in order to better serve my next client.

2) If I don't know how to play a song perfectly, I probably won't play it. This ties in more with being diligent about meeting my patients where they are than anything. If I'm bumbling through a song, I totally lose my street cred with the patient (especially because I now work with adults) and the session becomes more about me...and blegh. I hate that feeling. But sometimes you walk into a person's room and they say, "Play me the Ave Maria," and you try it and it sucks. And you promise to learn it for next time. The population I work with is particular about their music, which means I have to sing and play a lot to learn and continually update my repertoire.

So in the parenting realm lately I've noticed that A has been completely freaking out over little things. I get it, she's about to be three, she has Opinions and Emotions and all that, but I started looking at what I was doing that could maybe be contributing to her outbursts. During a particularly nasty one, it hit me. I am on her to do everything right all the time. I do it when I teach guitar lessons, when I tried my hand at teaching my niece piano (she now plays violin - go figure), when we're eating dinner, putting on clothes, everything. I sheepishly realized that I had constructed this toothpick fortress of controlling all the things and making my child behave that she was flipping out. Honestly, I would too.

So, I've backed off. Quit being so picky or insisting that she do the right thing every. single. time., shushing the young piano player in me that insists that "PERFECT practice makes perfect." I had to find an outlet though, a time during which I COULD let that perfectionist inside me run free. So, I started playing piano again. And for those 30 minutes whenever I can grab them, it has a place to go that isn't interfering with my relationships or my professional life. It feels OH so good, and helps me let go in the other areas of my life that needed loosening up.

The Music in Me

I've got so much music up in my bones it seems like a waste to not use it on a regular basis. I've come to a place where I'm finally getting into the groove of staying home and balancing what I want to do with music therapy. I always talk about wanting to be a better musician...even though I went through 8 years of music school...because without regular practice and review, that stuff gets dusty for me. Plus my undergraduate music education wasn't a time I spent doing a whole lot of practicing. Or studying, for that matter.

So, in accordance with my 12 for 2012 I wish to replace some idle time with...let's start with...30 minutes of music playing a night. It may not sound like a lot, but for someone who is going from 0 minutes a week to 210 minutes (3.5 hours) a week, I mean come on. Pretty good start. I have in my possession a ukulele, some guitars, a legit djembe, a piano, and a mandolin, along with instruction books for all of them. I am going to start out just learning chords so I can get my way around them, and then I'll start working on scales because I have always wanted to be able to improvise, and it'll also help me review my music theory.

I'll have to come up with some kind of schedule for this. Do I spend an entire week on just guitar or change it up every day? Maybe I can have a song number goal by the end of each week. Hm. Like, 5 new songs on the guitar by the end of this week, and then I can start over and learn those same songs on the ukulele, and so on. Plus, I'll bump my time up 5 minutes every week until I get to an hour. And every week I'll add a song. Yeah. I like that. If it sounds like overkill, I have to be method about it or else I'll never get to it.

Lucky for me I've been keeping a list of songs I want to learn, totally memorized, performance worthy, by the end of the week:

1. Blackbird - The Beatles
2. Your Hands - JJ Heller
3. Three Little Birds - Bob Marley
4. Someone Like You - Adele
5. La Flor De La Canela - Chabuca Granda

and in waiting so far we have:
6. Let It Be Me - Ray LaMontagne
7. Canta de Alma - Del Castillo (if anyone can find me a reliable source for chords and lyrics, that would be great. Haven't found one yet.)
8. Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton

This is the video I'm going to use to tackle Blackbird. I started learning it last year but it didn't stick with me, probably because I quit playing for awhile. It is for sure a mind and finger workout.

Resolution Roundup

Well so February is nearly over and I believe it's time to do a checkup on my Resolutions. Accountability, y'all.

1. Post once a week on my music therapy blog and on this blog.

Working on it.

2. Sew through the One Yard Wonders book I just got for Christmas

2. Be a better musician

This one deserves a blog post all its own, folks. It'll probably happen on a Monday.

3. Run a successful (read: profitable) Etsy shop

Good news: I opened my shop this month! Bad news: Nobody's bought anything yet. But I do have a custom order coming in that I just finished, so that'll get posted soon.

4. Cook my way through the Lee Brother's Simple Fresh Southern

Haven't. Even. Started. But if you don't have this book, you should get it.

5. Use raw veganism to get myself to my goal weight

 I just discovered Jenn on Twitter and am loving her and her raw vegan resources.

6. Run a half-marathon

Working on it. A little every day.

7. Publish my thesis in a music therapy journal

No progress.

8. Beef up my thesis and publish it as a book

No progress.

9. Go to yoga at least once a week

So good for me and yet for whatever reason SO HARD TO DO. Even with the yoga DVD's. (see #10)

10. Only watch 1 hour of television a day. Weekends included.

I have zero self-control. Hopefully my new revised #2 will factor into this.

11. Find a church and attend regularly

Sigh. No. I am, however, spending more time in spiritual pursuits (prayer, reading, etc.) and talking about Jesus with friends. That Ash Wednesday service really lit me up with inspiration.

12. Buy no clothes new for myself or my family (notice that I didn't say "no new clothes.")

Blog post about this comin' atcha. You didn't think I would go to San Fran and not return with any goodies?

Monday Music Madness

While I THINK about this blog about once a week, I think I'm utterly failing on posting every week. I should really get into that whole "scheduling" thing where I write more than one post a week and then set it to look like I'm actually posting once a week but then I'd have to actually sit down and gather my thoughts more than once a week! And there's so much crafting and musicking and what not to be done! EESH! 

Okay. So, I'm not really that busy. I mean, I kind of am, in that I have been gone a week and just got back a couple days ago and am trying to get my house back in order but my brain, oh my brain is way too busy for its own good. And then I have the insatiable cuteness of my daughter to contend with, who is quickly becoming one amazingly determined and vocal child. I counted the other day and she can say close to 30 words. I'm not saying that because I'm bragging, I'm saying that because the things 14 months olds want to say have a lot to do with the fact that they are hungry, they want to dance, and they really, REALLY want to play with your phone. 

"PONE?" nope.

"PONE?" no, honey, go find something else to do.

"PONE? PONE? PONE? PONE? PONE?" okay fine we'll call alita again.

It being Monday I have a certain amount of guilt surrounding the fact that I wanted to spend Mondays talking about music. I've been thinking a lot about the live music I've consumed over the years, starting when I was quite young and my uncle was a guitar tech for JIMMY...

wait for it

...BUFFET!

So there I was, with my dad and about 10,352 middle age folks in flowy gowns and bermuda shorts (shirtless, if we were so lucky), singing about hamburgers and screws and all kinds of other stuff. Backstage did have a certain allure...all instruments and roadies and people who were really busy getting something done before the big show started.

Fast forward to high school, where I turned 15 and was only let into a SCABS show because we told the door guy I was 16, oh and by the way my cousin was in the band. All I knew is I was on 6th street and it was WAY past my curfew. "breakfast" at 2am at the Magnolia Cafe sold me on the live music life. I was addicted. Since then, I have taken in an absurd amount of live music. I'm not one of those people who has to know every song and every life detail of the band I'm seeing...I don't necessarily have to even really be clear on the genre. I just want to be in the crowd, yell back to the singer(s) on stage when they say "GIMME A _________!!!" and be in the energy of the music. 

Part of the reason I love music and music therapy so much is because music is never the same. You can listen to the same recording of the same pianist and orchestra playing a piece twice in a row, and the second time it is different just for the very fact that time has passed and you now have heard the song once already and your brain hears the music differently. Similarly, live music and recorded music have absolutely nothing on each other. There are albums that I have worshipped for their craftmanship and ingenuity in the studio, and then there are performances that I have left a better person. 

While bathing my daughter today I had a hankering for The Weepies, so we listened to them as we splashed. They have a special place in my heart because they had never played Dallas before and DAYS after my due date of November 14th, they were playing at my favorite venue. I had to go. I HAD to go. It got to the week before and I reasoned that if I got tickets and went into labor, I could get rid of them easily. If I went into labor AT the show, I would have a baby and an awesome story later that night, so that would be a double win. I also knew that if I didn't get those tickets and didn't in fact have a baby anywhere near that time, I would kick myself.

Well, turns out I was WAY off on that due date, and I am SO VERY GLAD I got those tickets.
Dallas has historically infuriated me because I have been to shows where either 1) the audience should be dancing! It's GRUPO FANTASMA FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! DANCE! and guess what? no dancing. 2) the audience is talking ever so casually in a low hum under the amazing (for example) banjo stylings of Bela Fleck. I don't expect utter silence at a show, but I do expect some sort of involvement, whether that be a respectful interest or busting a salsa move or three. It's a sign of respect, I think. 

The Weepies, though...everyone was completely silent through just about the whole show. I read recently that it's supposedly some "hipster" thing, which wouldn't really surprise me, and there was a point in the show where a heckler got the stink eye and shushed angrily by pretty much the entire audience. But oh, how The Weepies deserved the silence. From what I gathered at the show, their lyrical genius is driven by the female half of the duo, Deb Talan. She has a remarkable way with words, and their music more often than not brings me to tears of joy and/or sadness, depending on the time of day and the song. What I love about them is that their music isn't boring. It doesn't all sound the same, they have a fun way of saying some pretty deep stuff, and their music is relatable to all those awkward moments where you think you'll never be able to describe _______ in words and then there she is, breaking your heart with the words "and the world spins madly on." The music is equally great, simple, and straightforward. 

The other thing that made this live show so ridiculously incredible was that they were absolutely hilarious, in a moderately tasteful, sometimes off-color, unabashedly honest way. There is nothing I don't love about this duo and if you have the chance to go see them, you absolutely will not regret it.

mellifluous. music. monday.

The other thing I've decided to focus on is who I am as a musician. I have guitars, a ukulele, a djembe, a mandolin, a piano, and a clarinet all in my house, along with a bunch of auxiliary percussion instruments. As a music therapist, I'd become kind of Jane-of-all-musics-master-of-few so what I want to dedicate my Monday blog posts to is music. Maybe it's the playing of, the listening to, or the attending of. My undergraduate degree concentrated in ethnomusicology, which is the study of world music, and what it means about me is that I want to know everything about every kind of music I can get my ears on - where it originated and by whom, the cultural significance, and the historical impact of it and how that style impacted the world at the time (and/or continues to). 

If you want to get super geeky, you can check out my bilingual music therapy blog, which will dive deeper in to the cultural and neurolinguistics of music and why music therapy in general is just so very awesome.

But here, on Mondays at least, we're going to just talk about music.

now it's time to get back

Just a quick update as my sunshine is napping for more than 20 minutes for the first. time. today.

1) I joined Stroller Strides! thinking "hey this will be a nice little workout and I can meet moms." I get my ass kicked 3 times a week and it is AWESOME. and painful. in a good way.

2) I met and hung out with a raw foods coach and am going to go "high raw vegetarian" starting tomorrow. Kind of excited about it. 

3) I had a moment last week after Stroller Strides when after class a herd of ducks came up to us so I took A out of her stroller and stood her up on the sidewalk. She smiled SO BIG and started sort of QUACK-ing at them! In that moment I thought to myself, "yeah, I wouldn't be anywhere else."

4) KINGS OF LEON with BAND OF HORSES on FRIDAY!

5) My garden is absolutely amazing. Pics soon!

and on a related note...

what.

learned how to play "blackbird" on the guitar tonight after putting Adeline to bed.

ka-chow!

this is my confession

I'm a little embarrassed to say this

but

I am not a fan of contemporary Christian music.

There. I said it.

I can't help myself...I love hymns, I love music, I love Jesus...what's the problem? It's a little something I like to call the Jesus Rock Show. I don't know when I started feeling this way or noticing, but it all seems so...contrived. I know, I'm not supposed to be judging, but I can't help but wince in church when the live band isn't connecting at all with the audience and is instead having their own personal...well..Jesus Rock Show...up on stage. Hands lifted, tears streaming, totally feeling it, beautiful...until I look around and much of the audience is mouthing the words, looking around awkwardly, waiting for the first chance to be excused. Or even more awkward, when there's one person in the band having a Moment and the rest of the bandmembers obviously aren't. 

Maybe it's a reflection of where I am in my own stumbling meander of faith, this not getting it. You don't know how frustrating it is to be in church, be a musician and someone who is deeply connected to music, and totally counting the minutes until worship is over.

The most awesome worship experience I've had since being in Dallas was when the hubs and I stumbled upon a Church of Christ in our neighborhood that we wanted to check out because it was so close by. Have any of you ever been in a Church of Christ service? I know it gets a bad rap because their whole "no instruments" thing is "weird" (as if one must have ratty jeans and an acoustic guitar to get them some Jesus) but when the congregation exploded into beautiful four-part harmony, our minds were instantly blown. It was an incredible thing. 

All that being said, today I discovered an artist I actually like. It's like the Weepies at church. Even if you don't consider yourself particularly "religious" or into the whole church thing, check out JJ Heller for some good, uplifting tunes.

6 week postpartum checkup: back in the saddle again

I went to my shiny new OB/GYN for my 6 week checkup/annual exam...these things being annual I am deciding whether or not having such a delightful experience this close to my birthday is a good idea. He checked out his handiwork (scar), we chatted about Adeline's labor and delivery, discussed birth control and future pregnancies. Maybe it was because I hadn't had breakfast yet...still getting the hang of timing with a new baby...right now it takes us about an hour and a half to two hours to go from sleeping to out the door. Think that sounds like a long time? I have to shower, get totally dressed and ready, check her diaper bag to make sure everything is together, wake her up, change, feed, change again, put on appropriate going out clothes and THEN we can leave. Phew! For someone who is historically TERRIBLE at forethought, it's quite an exercise. By the time we're all ready to go, I'm ready for a nap.

Like I was saying, maybe it was because I hadn't had breakfast yet, but after all the discussion and the pelvic exam and all that, I was kind of...I don't know...sad? weebed out at the prospect of future babies? make that scared out of my mind of all the complications? overwhelmed because I would like at least one more kid of our own, and would also like to adopt...all of it was too much. Plus I had to focus on my breathing to keep from passing out.  Then add to that the fact that I ran into my midwife yesterday at the gas station...is anyone surprised that I came home, ate lunch, fed the kid and then ended up a weepy mess on the floor by her crib? Sigh.

Recognizing that I needed to do some creative interventions on myself and go back and process Adeline's dramatic entry into the world, I headed off to Hobby Lobby to get some crafting supplies. Thanks to Claire leaving a book on earring making I grabbed some wire and beads and plan to make some jewelry, and then attack a drawing pad with some pastels and colored pencils and whatever else strikes my fancy.

I threw up on my laundry today.

Hey, strangers.

I've felt a little disconnected from my whole enjoying-the-pregnancy thing because I've been trying to get my head around work and every wonderful and sometimes really difficult learning experience, so I decided to get back to my love of journaling. I have a brain drain that I try to write a couple pages in every night to empty everything out so that it doesn't keep me up at night. Working like a charm. Handwritten journaling is so my anti-drug.

I am feeling tons better, thankfully. More the mental aspect than anything, because sometimes I get queasy, and every weekday, without fail, I puke. Sometimes once, sometimes twice, always stomach acid. I've gotten to the point that I kind of look forward to it because I feel really, really good afterward. But today, I decided that maybe I should put some clothes in the wash before going to work. So I bend over to put the clothes in the washer and before I could stop it, I puked a little on my clothes. That were about to go into the washer. So you know, no harm no foul.

I'm deliriously sleepy - I played really hard today, so I'm going to put myself in cozy cozy bed and I promise I'll be a better blogger soon :) It's inevitable: the next 4 weeks are about to be filled with George Lopez, Bob Schneider, Train, Asleep at the Wheel, Rhett Miller, and Imogen Heap. 

taste of nephrology

Today I went to get training on the system that the Nephrology/Hemodialysis unit charts on. I'll wait while you wiki that - Lord knows I had to. I met with a wonderful Indian woman and as we were chatting, she said that she sang and that her children were singers. I don't know how it came up but I mentioned that a professor of mine at UT was a student of Ravi Shankar...

 to which she replied, "Oh...I must touch you."

Turns out there's lots of other Indian folks in the administrative side of Nephrology, all to whom I was introduced as "a student of a professor whose guru is Ravi Shankar." :) 

The best part of our training time was easily when she said, "So...you sing?" When I replied yes she said, "Okay. Sing for me. Just a few lines," like it was the most normal thing in the world. Welcoming my New Normal, I sang the first part of Stormy Weather, then requested she sing for me - a ridiculously beautiful song that she translated was about moonlight and a swan swimming on a pond. 

Needless to say, I had another one of those "dude...I WORK here!" moments today. 

an amrazing adventure

so, we went to the Dallas Jason Mraz show last week for my mom's birthday and had a BLAST! Here are some highlights:

Kat getting some serious hoop-on back stage! Apparently they band & crew are really into hula hooping for its core-working workout. There were tons of hula hoops laying around, and Kat was all over 'em.

Jason & Carlos at rehearsal (from my phone)

Kat & uncle Carlos. Seeing as the show started at 9pm, we got to go to rehearsal so Kat could see Carlos play. She was a little more interested in hula hooping (when she and uncle C went off to look for them, she ran into Jason and was all "Where's the hula hoops?") and doing some improvisational dance while Carlos was warming up than the actual rehearsal, so I told her that in 10 years she's going to think that this was the COOLEST THING EVER.

Some guy ;) named Reggie on the big screen

Carlos on the big screen.

the guys at the "end" before the encore

My cousin is an incredible musician - everyone on that stage is, but hey, I'm partial to the Grooveline guys :) - and I'm fully aware of how blessed and lucky our family is to experience the cool stuff and amazing music that he's a part of. There's a lot of other stuff that happened at that concert that was totally surreal, and maybe I'll blog about it later, but I don't know yet. One of those times in your life where you feel something Creative tugging at your heart in the direction you should be going. Just not sure where exactly it's going to lead me.

And, if you're still reading and thinking to yourself "UGH Mraz is such a tool!" I encourage you to go see a live show. You might be surprised with the crazy amount of talent all the musicians on that stage have to offer you.

Grooveline Horns with Jason Mraz 09/09 from singmetheblues on Vimeo.

It Ain't Good

Last weekend I hung out with some friends in New Braunfels, tubing and just generally relaxing. I was pleased to find out that there was a Bob Schneider show going on at Whitewater, and I was thrilled at the prospect of spending a lovely Texas evening under the stars with good music.

The venue did not disappoint - the stage's backdrop is the Guadalupe river, the grounds are beautifully landscaped with native Texas plants, and we were quite literally tucked in between some hills. Another plus to the place was that their food was reasonably priced. I got two tasty vegetarian (rice, black beans, veggies, pico) tacos for $5, and the drink prices were pretty much standard for a music venue. 

Since I turned 25 I realized that I've seen more Bob shows in the form of his solo act or with The SCABS than I have of any other musician. The SCABS were my first Austin show - it was my 15th birthday (we lied and said I was 16 just so I could get in to the venue), I know all his songs, even worked for his PA for a little bit once upon a time when I wanted to be a music business maven, yet I can't say that I'm a big fan of his. There really used to be nothing like a live SCABS or Bob Schneider show. I remember when they would all dress up in marching band uniforms or their sharp black suits, and miscellaneous undergarments would get thrown on the stage, and every show was new, exciting, different. About 5 or so years ago, the shows became canned - everything the same, every time, with the variety being only in "It Ain't Good" (where members of the band can improvise) or his encore song (and even then only sometimes).

I appreciate his music and the lyrics and the scathing cleverness behind a lot of what he does, but this show...I don't know. Maybe because I was exhausted from a big day of being on the river, but I think lackluster is a good word to describe it. I found myself wishing that the last Bob show I went to at Lakeway last summer was the last show of his I'd ever seen, because it was amazing, lighthearted, and a heck of a party (plus, free!). Candace even said that she felt like everyone else was in on something that we were totally missing. There were so many things about the show that turned us off (from the T-shirts, the whole FAYM concept, and the first four really low-energy songs) I described it to her as a whole new generation of college kids who thinks the sun shines out of his behind, and we just happen to know better, or have grown up. We now know way too much about him and how he treats people to like him as a person, but still have to admit that his songs are quality. He is indeed a talented songwriter, and from what I hear, an inspiration to many in the singer/songwriter world. If you listen to Bob's ramblings on his website, you can tell - something is different. Things just ain't what they used be.

At any rate, after 11 years of enjoying his music live, though I will probably still use his songs in my lyric analysis for music therapy, I don't need to see him live ever again.

Josh Rosenthal Interview

I recently had the super cool opportunity to interview a musician named Josh Rosenthal. He's the husband of my friend Becky,  who I met on a Campus Crusade summer project in Spain. If y'all know anything about me, you know that I'm a die-hard for live music and supporting up-and-coming musicians, so when Becky approached me about doing the interview I was so excited! She sent me three of his CDs and they spent a week in my car on repeat. What I found was a refreshing depth of character that made me think and some really good guitar playing. You can get his music on iTunes, and from his website. In fact, before reading the interview, you should go dip your toes in at his MySpace page.

So here you go, the very first Monday's Mellifluous Music interview:

What in the world made you want to become a musician in the first place?

I either wanted to be a doctor, pastor or musician.  Oddly enough I found the things I desired in medicine and ministry to come together as one in music.  I can write songs and use them as instruments of healing in the lives of the people I love.

I met Becky on a Campus Crusade trip to Spain when we were in college and next thing I heard, she was marrying you! I enjoyed the songs on your CDs that were obviously about your relationship because they were honest. What’s y’alls story?

We dated for three months before getting engaged.  But we knew of each other for years.  We went to junior high and high school together but never noticed.  She was the hot popular girl who drove a Jeep Wrangler and I was the punk kid who drove 1984 Mercury.  We didn’t really run in the same circles.  Once we were both home for the holidays.  It was love at 3,872^nd sight.  We don’t notice each other until exactly the right time and we got married within the year.

You’re right.  A lot of my songs start from Becky and me.  We’ve got a great marriage, but we work hard at it.  We want to use our mistakes to teach other people what to avoid if at all possible.

A family member once described his songwriting process as “someone turning a radio on in his head.” How does your songwriting process go?

It’s funny; it really has little to do with music.  My greatest inspiration comes from, but isn’t limited to, things like Grey’s Anatomy.  Its writers are geniuses.  Their story lines are so specific yet so universal.  That’s what I want to do with my songs.  If a circumstance in life strikes me and makes me feel a strong emotion, I try to capture it in a song.  If music didn’t move me the way it does, I’d be content in any profession that provides people cathartic outlets for healing.

On a scale of 1-100, how much do you like playing live shows? What’s your favorite and least favorite part?

100.  Some guys I know love the studio and play shows out of necessity.  I’m the opposite.  I’m intrigued by moments.  So far I’ve only been able to capture so much in the studio.  But at a concert you can create a moment with a song that moves people.  There is something special about a live show that allows for emotional moments. 

My least favorite part?  Setting up gear and tearing it down.

How do you think your style has evolved since you started recording? What have been your biggest influences in this?

One listen to each album shows a pretty major evolution in the sound. But, more than anything, my style has changed because I know what I want to say. Every artist has to have a message. Early on, for me, it was “hey, listen to me.” Now it has more to do with truly singing meaningful things to people. I try to tap into those universal pains and bring hope to them.

Where do you want to be personally and professionally in the next 5 years?

I hope to have strong followings outside the Rocky Mountain region. I’d like to double the amount of albums I sell every year. If a label opportunity comes along, I’ll explore it, but it will not be a barometer of my success.

Because I’m also from a small town and can totally relate to “Gotta Get Out” I was wondering, how do you think coming from a small town has shaped your worldview?

Great question. Yes, I give Lubbock a hard time in the same manner I give Ben Robie a hard time. Jokes at his expense are entertaining but ultimately I love the guy. I owe my ability to hold meaningful conversations to my Lubbock upbringing. I used to joke that people from larger towns have more to entertain them.  In Lubbock, all we had was conversations. We sit in a room and talk for hours on end. That would be our evening activity. To answer your question, it shaped my worldview by helping value conversations with people.

Why Utah?

Google it and look at the pictures.

On the back of Renaissance, there’s a peek of a tattoo on the inside of your right arm. What is it and what does it signify?

It says “ALIVE”. My friend Asher and I got tattoos together in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. The whole time I got mine, he was singing Pearl Jam’s song by the same name. A lot of people survive or barely get by, but how many people are truly alive? I want to be fully alive.

How would you classify your music genre-wise and how do you set yourself apart from other “boys-and-their-guitars”?

I’m Americana/Folk. Those who subscribe to he “boys and their guitars” image don’t have long careers. They may get popular, but they burn out quickly. The longest lasting careers are usually tied to the meaningful message of the artist. Any popular song in my genre has lyrics that resonate with people. I like to think the marriage of my message and my live show set me apart from the average singer/songwriter.

What was your inspiration for “Bless the Fire”?

I complain a lot when life is difficult. Once the difficulty passes and I’m stronger for it, I speak highly of life’s challenges. Bless the Fire was my attempt at loving a really challenging situation while in the middle of it. It’s easy to look back and say hard times are good. But it’s another to say they’re good if you’re living through the death of a loved one or something equally as tragic. I want to joyfully accept what life gives me when it gives it to me.

I think you’ve got a lot going for you in the talented and inspired department and am excited for whatever you’re going to put out next. What do you have coming up next for you musically?

Thanks. I’m releasing four new albums this year – August 18, September 15, October 13 and November 27. I’ll be doing a lot of traveling in the fall to support their releases.

ugh.

Random Thoughts

If you're really into good films you should check out Paris, Je T'Aime. I found it at Blockbuster, so you should have no problem finding it. It is a series of several different stories directed by greats such as Wes Craven, the Coen brothers, and Gus Van Sant, just to name a few. Everyone and their mother is in this movie, including Juliette Binoche, Willem Dafoe, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and Natalie Portman. There's even a nice little bit of Elijah Wood, a'la Sin City. This movie delightfully surprised the hell out of me and after getting halfway through a bottle of wine inspired me further to learn French and repeat the mantra, "Someday I will live in France."

I'm getting old and farty. For my birthday we went to Dave & Buster's and stayed up late and while it was fantastico, I woke up the next morning planning my next birthday party, which will be a dinner party...with probably all of the same people :)

My new favorite wine is Argentinian Malbec. You should check some out. It's fruity-ish but dark and oakey. The wine in question from last night was a white by Smoking Loon. I don't usually do whites but it was undrunk in the fridge and I was having a light pasta for dinner, so it all worked well together.

Oh, and about that pasta. The night we went to D&B I left my car at a friend's house in Richardson. I've been cleaning/studying/practicing like a madwoman so decided that yesterday I would laze, including dinner. I think the only thing accomplished was finishing a scrapbook for a friend. Anyway, when the time to pick up dinner rolled around I grabbed my keys and made it halfway down the stairs when I realized that my car was not in fact in my driveway. I had to call back and get it delivered, even though it's a block away and I didn't want to walk down there in the cold night. It was delicious pasta, though. It would have been better with sausage, but I'm trying not to dwell on that ;)

Can exes be friends? Yes, but only if the two actually try. I've come to the realization that by the lack of communication he probably didn't really mean he wanted to be friends. I'm done trying to understand him. Officially done. Maybe I'll even torch the shoe box.

What I think is funny is that understanding and acceptance of the demise of one relationship can come from reconciliation, thoughtfulness, and honesty in another tragic relationship-turned friendship. Thank God for that.

I miss my husband. He's been crazy busy at work and worked on a charity project all weekend that had him coding into all hours of the night. Thank goodness that, and last week is over.

I think when other people flake it bugs me most because I have a serious tendency toward flakiness as well.

Sometimes I think we're totally ready to have a kid and sometimes I lay in bed with my hands on my stomach thinking, "Are we ready for that yet?"

I will never fall out of love with swimming, or playing the piano.