It still feels temporary. Like a weird visit where we've rented this place. Jared's summer work hours are shorter and he walks to and from work and home for lunch. The unpacking stalled when the entire lot of us got sick. Instead of unpacking, I spent last week holding my 30lb boy while he cried and ached and wasn't able to tell me exactly why (ear infection).
And on Friday night, on the cusp of my sickness, I went to see the ballerinas dance Cinderella. Their faces were young, their sets were hand-painted panels in jewel-toned greens and reds and blues, their legs were athletic and strong, and their music stopped. Right at the beginning of Act 2. When everyone is dancing their way from the Prince's Ball. And they, literally, didn't miss a beat. They kept dancing the scene - without music. When the curtains swung shut and the Russian choreographer came to the stage, he said, "You wait. We fix. One minute." A boom box and speakers were brought from behind the curtains and the CD decided to skip and speed up and slow down with no notice - they kept dancing. It was impressive.
At the end of the play, the smiles were wide and foreheads shiney with sweat. They seemed please with their Opening Night but also that it was over. For some, they wouldn't perform the next night. They'd finished, with incident, and it still went well.
I'd like to think I kept as much poise as the ballerinas this week. That I didn't sit down on my stage and cry with my own runny nose and aching body. That I didn't plop Henry and me in front of the TV yesterday for a couple hours of PBS programming while Mommy massaged her own head and tried to figure out how to get a shower in. That I didn't go to back to bed immediately after putting Henry in his crib for a nap and lay there and feel sorry for myself and wish I could zonk out on Nyquil.
But I did those things and lots more that were probably worse. And then, because I was already feeling low, I questioned my parenting abilities several more thousand times than a normal given week. But maybe I can count those sick days as rehearsals rather than performances. And this next month, when I start work tomorrow and when the girls come later, I'll put my makeup on and tie my ballet shoes around my ankles and lift up on point and pray the music doesn't stop.
Ah, ha! I don't know how one catches a 3000-mile away cold, but now I know where mine came from.
ReplyDeleteSometimes it's hard to remember to just keep going. If you don't stop or make a face, most times, the audience doesn't know you screwed up. If your music stops, keep on dancing.
It's discipline and courage. All that being an adult stuff that sometimes gets hard to deal with. I'm sure you did the best momming you could while wanting your very own mom-hand on your forehead.