Hey all… let’s snoop through Noah’s diary. Why? Because we can.
Tuesday, September 30, 2025, 9am-ish: Happy Tuesday to me! I got regular band rehearsal tonight, so that’ll be fun… well, except for Howie bitching about not having enough guitar solos but he always does that.
It’s Mike’s turn to bring the beer and my turn to bring the munchies. I’m making pumpkin spice cookies and apple oatmeal cookies, plus I have homemade apple chutney and two kinds of homemade salsa. The tortilla chips won’t be homemade but one of these days I’ll get my recipe sorted for those.
And I texted the guys to let them know, so Howie can bring his own ketchup chips if he doesn’t wanna have salsa and tortilla chips. And he can buy those crappy grocery store chocolate chip cookies if he doesn’t like pumpkin spice and apple oatmeal… which he won’t ’cause then he wouldn’t get to complain about my cookies.
Ugh… speaking of complaining, I managed to get Ursula dropped off at school with only 20 minutes of bargaining and attempted blackmail. And I managed to drag her out to the car three minutes earlier than usual. So she was only 2 minutes late to class today.
It’s too bad she won’t get up and go when Ruth goes in, but I guess Ursula would try to bargain and blackmail with Ruth which would interrupt Ruth’s prep work for her own class.
I hope when Ursula goes into fifth grade she’ll join the elementary strings program and then she would have something to do for that hour before school starts if she caught a ride with Ruth, but so far Ursula has shown absolutely zero interest in learning a musical instrument because “that just sounds like extra homework.”
Sigh… where did I go wrong?
I’m trying to get her to take up piano but again: she won’t do it unless she gets to practise piano instead of do her math homework and I just don’t think there’s anyway her teacher will agree to that. Even if she did, there’s no way Ruth would approve of such a thing.
When she goes off to middle school in a few years, they do have a lot of band class options and I might have to put my foot down and insist she join one… or maybe even all 3—strings, choir, and band—actually, I think I’ll get Ma to insist, because she’s the only one who managed to get Ursula to suck it up and go to ballet class.
Yeah. I’m gonna call Ma after I get the baby down for a nap in an hour. Good idea, Noah. Yay, me!
5pm-ish: Well… had a good talk with Ma this morning (only got guilt-tripped about not coming to visit enough for 20 minutes instead of the usual half-hour). But she did agree that Ursula needs to learn a few musical instruments.
So then when I picked Ursula up from school, we picked up pizza and she clued in immediately that I was up to something. I wouldn’t say what, though, and we went home and ate the pizza and I started a video call with Ma while Ursula was distracted with pizza.
Ma started off interrogating Ursula about why she didn’t join choir already.
“Choir’s dumb. My friend Lily’s in choir and they don’t sing anything interesting.”
Well, Ma wasn’t too happy about that and neither was I, but in any case, I don’t think Ursula can join choir this year anyway ’cause it’s too late. So then Ma asked about piano.
“Piano is dumb and boring.”
And I said, “hey, I play piano!”
“Right.”
So I scowled while Ma told her she has to take strings class when she gets to grade 5.
“I don’t wanna play violin. It’s screechy.”
“OK, you’re gonna play cello, then.”
“I don’t wanna play cello. Cello is dumb.”
Then Ursula said she would be willing to play double bass, probably because she knows they don’t have those at her school. Well, Ma called her bluff and looked up that they do in fact make child-sized double basses and she said she would pay for us to rent one and for Ursula to take lessons.
This is when the negotiations began and Ursula tried to get Ma to say she could skip math homework to practise double bass instead. Fortunately, Ma wouldn’t budge, and I had already whipped out my phone to have video evidence of Ursula agreeing to learn an instrument and practise before she could change her mind.
And I texted said evidence to Ruth, who was still at school marking 2nd grade writing assignments, and she went down the hall to talk to the strings teacher and make sure she’d let Ursula play bass in a couple years in fifth grade strings instead of cello. (She said OK so long as Ursula has her own bass ’cause the school doesn’t have money for double basses.)
I also texted all the bassists I know to find out who teaches upright bass. The answer was none of them, but John said he has a buddy who plays upright bass in a rockabilly band, so he’d get me in touch with him. Probably not quite the same kinda bass playing as for a school band, but it’s a start.
Anyway, so Ursula was muttering to herself that she shoulda known there was a catch to the pizza, but Ma wasn’t done yet.
“When you go to middle school, you should join the regular band, too.”
“Can I hit things?”
“Boy, you know drummers, don’t you?”
Yeah… see… most of my drummers have been very clear with me that they refuse to teach any of my spawn. I mean, Mike put his foot down on that front 20-odd years back when Adam was little and punched a hole in his snare head. And Nate has a strict “no kiddie lessons” policy in general. And Chad said he charges $200/hr for “brat lessons.”
But I dutifully sent out text messages and got a bunch of middle finger pics in return. But Chad did say he has a buddy Dan who teaches kids’ drum lessons at the local Long & McQuade. Problem is Ruth is not gonna wanna have Ursula banging on drums in our house. Maybe I can ask her dad Frank if Ursula can practise in their basement?
Agnes is gonna kill me.
But hey, we’re 2 for 2 on the music front.
But Ma wasn’t done. “You should play a melody instrument, too.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Isn’t there any other instrument you might want to play?”
“No.”
“Guess again.”
“No!”
“Think harder. What melody instrument would you like to play?”
Ursula scowled. “Fine. Bassoon.”
“Excellent. Boy, get her a bassoon.”
I wondered if Ma has any idea what a bassoon is or what they cost. I also wondered if Ursula knows.
“Of course I know what a bassoon is! They sound like farts!”
Sigh… so now Ma’s up my ass about finding Ursula a bassoon and a bassoon teacher. Great… well, at least she’s paying.
Time to pack up the cookies from where I hid them earlier and head out to Mike’s.
