Skip to main content

'Tis the season to be merry

Firstborn was Mary in the school nativity play this year. To say I was proud would be an understatement. How the maternal busom swelled with joy upon hearing of Firstborn's moment of glory!

My mother has always claimed, practically from the very moment Firstborn emerged pink, wrinkly and outraged, that she was set for stardom. As Firstborn made her first wobbly steps and threw her first tantrum (of many), she was destined for RADA (none of that starlet and gratuitous nudity stuff for her first grandchild, it would be a glittering career treading the boards and rave reviews in the broadsheets at the very least). At last! Here was proof that my mother was right! Firstborn still of such tender years, and yet already her future career was unfolding...

That is, until Firstborn's very sweet teacher took me to one side before class started one morning. She explained that she had cast Firstborn as Mary in order to boost her confidence - Firstborn, it seems, is very shy and reluctant to join in during drama class, and that as the role only demanded the delivery of one line, sweet teacher thought Firstborn would be able to cope.

Oh. So maybe Firstborn isn't going to have her name up in lights (which is fine - her other career options of either nuclear physicist or brain surgeon would offer much greater job security anyway), but we were going to make darned sure she could deliver that one line with aplomb.

The day of the play arrived. I took Firstborn to school and retired to the local cafe to wait for the appointed hour with Alpha Male and the Small(er) One. We trooped into the hall with all the other eager parents, jostled for seats in the front rows, lost and sat sulkily further back - naturally my seat was behind that of a tall woman with enormous hair (story of my life). The music started, the children filed in, and the spectacle started.

I won't bore you with a blow by blow account, but let's just say there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Firstborn was a grinning, smirking Mary who fidgeted madly, rocked the baby Jesus over-enthusiastically and kicked her legs in time to the music. And when the time came for her line, she delivered it beautifully.... in a whisper.

Needless to say, Firstborn received a standing ovation.

Comments

Jill said…
Smart teacher! Sometimes shy people make awesome public speakers. They just need someone to tell them that it is OK to take the floor. With the structure of an assigned part, they shine. Good for Firstborn!
Anonymous said…
Congrats on raising the perfect Mary for a children's play! And, welcome back, I've missed the posts!

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...) Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

A thought

Perhaps sometimes a gift can be delivered in the guise of a tragedy. It's just a matter of perception, after all. I suspect that the talent lies in looking beyond the surface to what lies beneath and beyond. And, of course, being able to make sense of it all and going on to apply that knowledge to building a productive way forward. Here's hoping.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...