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I'm trying real hard to tie some kind of spiritual lesson into this, but I just can't...

Today was the annual friends and family recital for Meg. This recital is special, because we get a break from the Suzki playlists, and have the pleasure of seeing our kids play pieces of their own choosing-playing with a friend or family member.

The act that stole the show...The "40weeks +" pregnant mom and her preschooler son, she played the cello (beautifully) while her son played pizzicato (pluck at the strings with a finger) on the violin. They played "Pop goes the weasel". It was so cute, and she was so beautiful, so pregnant...she was glowing. I was kicking myself that I didn't have my video camera to capture it.

Meg played "Turkey in the Straw' a fiddle song with a friend. They were very cute, the little girl's mom accompanied them on the piano.

Demi and Amie have been sick for a few days, Amie had a fever on Thursday but is much improved already, only with a lingering runny nose. Demi had the fever on Friday, and is having some asthma and the runny nose. It is really a big effort to get a sitter for something like this, our sitters are in another city, it turns into a 40 minute deal to go get one...so we decided to take Amie and Demi with us. How bad could it be?? These recitals are always under an hour long (the teacher is a very compassonate person!). How bad could it be? Famous last words.

Amie snuffled and snorted through the whole thing. The scene became particularly grievous during Pachabel's canon in D; Amie's wet, constant snorting was drawing chilly fingers down my spine. I looked over to catch Demi with his finger in his nose..I caught his eye and lifted my eyebrow. In response, Demi grabbed a tiny corner of a torn tissue and jammed it into his nostril. And there it remained, sticking out of his nose... I then looked on horrified as the lady sitting next to him realized he had piled his used tissue onto her chair.
It was truly one of those writhering, sink-thru-the-floor, mom moments.

I guess I have become more of a philosopher through these snapshots of life, and sometimes manage to not cry over spilt milk. I continued on, unruffled..you just have to let go of some things, as they roll down hill, picking up steam and an energy life all their own, you realize you can't really affect the outcome in a meaningful way.

I really cannot come up with something spiritual and profound to wrap this up with, though verses about pride keep running through my mind..

After all, the question of the day remains..."How bad can it be?"