We wrapped the Nutcracker today. We wrapped the college course I taught tonight. So much community, so many feelings, so much bittersweet relief. I’m glad my kids get to watch me say yes, and I’m glad my kids get to watch me end things as well.
My baby has taken to the stage like no creature I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t prepared for her to not need my help for a single second. From costume changes to choreography, she leans on her fellow cast members and waves a glittery I love you at me as she floats by. This is soul-shaking in the best way.
Tonight we had a break from Nutcracker, only to return to the theater for the middle school winter concert. Being in a small town for these things is simply the best. Everyone you know is somehow connected to a 7th or 8th grader who has been required to join choir or band, often against their will, which includes a holiday showcase after hours. It was hilarious, it was joyful, and it was fun. The martini I had at dinner beforehand only enhanced the experience.
My mom comes tomorrow! My comes tomorrow! My mom comes tomorrow! She’ll stay for a week and watch three Nutcracker shows and watch three girls while Chris and I take Ames away for an adventure. My mom comes tomorrow!
I was nearly thirty-seven years old before an artificial Christmas tree darkened my doorstep and lit up my living room. We decorated her tonight. She’s doing the job we need her to do this year and for that, we are grateful.
On the way into the show tonight, my daughter read aloud to me from her novel, slipping across the icy parking lot and never taking her eyes out of her book. On the way out of the show tonight, her twin caught up to me en route to the car and then exclaimed, You look like a mom right now! (Baseball cap and coat zipped with hood up, if you must know).
I spent the first two decades of my life performing. From living room concerts with family held hostage, to dance competitions in faraway places, to high school musicals and halftime cheer routines, to aerial silks class in college. I came of age on the stage and under the lights.
I’d like to thank my mom for teaching me to love my body, and for encouraging me to pursue the arts. I’d like to thank my dad for securing my false eyelashes in place with precision, and for cheering me on like he wanted nothing more on a Saturday than to sit in an auditorium for hours and hours. And hours.
I haven’t revisited that part of me since becoming a mom. But this season, my three daughters auditioned for the Homer Nutcracker Ballet. And then my husband joined in. Finally, my son hopped on the stage crew.
Me? I am delivering food and monitoring halls and securing buns in place with bobby pins and so, so, much hairspray. My heart is swollen with pride; my face, with happy tears. I get it now. There is something terrifyingly, beautifully powerful about watching your people cultivate and share such gifts with the world.
Opening night was a blast.