Dragon Ball Mama

photo credit: screenrant.com

 

So … I have failed the first week of homeschooling miserably. I have to admit, my always-busy kids seize the opportunity of not having to go to school everyday to enjoy their childhood. Bring on Lego, books, K-Tigers and BTS music videos, and piano, they have been reluctant to do their homeworks unless Mama starts asking, “Didn’t the school assign [insert here] task/project to do today?”

This has got to stop, I told myself earlier this afternoon. We’ll be doomed if we continue this habit another week. My kids will end up learning nothing and will have difficulty catching up once the school is back on.

So …, in order to bring back the regularity of a structured learning, I’ve decided to start Monday with piano lessons for the three of us. Our teacher will come by at 10 AM, and the kids started to panic from 9 PM tonight. They reserve every right to panic; they have more homeworks than I do because they’re also learning music theory.

At 9 PM I started with teaching my boy. He hasn’t practiced any of the three songs these past 7 days. As usual. How he passes every lesson with flying grades is always beyond me. First song was a repetition from last week; he played fluently, no difficulty whatsoever.

The second song was two-page long, and the second my boy laid his eyes on the music sheet he started to whine. He panicked, I know, he’s very much like me when it comes to facing a new challenge.

He started slowly with his fingers stretched on unfamiliar notes. Forming a new habit is indeed exhausting; I had to remind him over and over again that first finger of the left hand had to rest on G note, not on B note like it used to with previous songs.

He kept slipping and forgetting. When he didn’t, when he had started memorizing the notes, he would concentrate too much on the keys that he forgot to read the sheet.

This happened too many times that I lost count. I know that he’s fast in memorizing notes, even new ones, but not reading the music sheet will lead to disaster eventually. So I kept correcting him, scolding him, until one point I couldn’t take it any longer.

You see, my boy, being my only son, is the quickest kid to whine and be cranky and the quickest kid to forgive and be cheerful again. I couldn’t listen anymore of his complaints that I demanded too much perfection, that I started clenching my fists and squeezing my eyes.

Then I growled. I made this wolf-like long and deep sound with my throat for a few minutes or so.

From the corner of my eyes I could see my husband watching me anxiously. I was going to explode, he predicted that much, and he was afraid of the aftermath. I’ve never been good at tuning down my temper, you know.

So imagine the look on his face, and my kids’, when suddenly I stopped growling and burst into laughters. Noisy and loud laughters, as loud as the growls.

I laughed because my insides turned and I felt so guilty for being angry and pushy and impatient and you-name-it at my boy. I giggled because I knew I should and could have resolved the matter better.

My boy was shrieking with the same histerical laughter as he asked me, “Mama, what happened to you?”

A simple answer crossed my mind. “For a second I changed into Dragon Ball.”

His eyes went wide. “What is that?”

Well, my son, that’s another lesson about the awesomeness of growing up in the 90’s for another day.

I didn’t elaborate my answers, because the clock was ticking and we still had another song to learn. In my mind I was trying to formulate a concise information about Dragon Ball without making them interested to read the comic. Even though I read it when I was a kid, I never thought Dragon Ball was young-age appropriate.

Back to the piano lesson.

We finished learning two songs in 15 minutes and I let him go to bed because he said he was so tired. I knew that he wouldn’t fall asleep once he got to his room; I know everything about the Lego he keeps on his bed and under his pillow.

Fingers crossed he will wake up early tomorrow to practice again before the teacher comes. As for me, I have a new nickname now, attributed to my physical change when I’m about to unleash my wrath.

Dragon Ball Mama.

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