The three year old has been going to daycare since September, so three months now. She had been home since she was born with my parents or an occasional sitter coming to watch her when I was working. Understandably, I was a little nervous about her starting daycare; she’d never really spent an extended amount of time in a classroom setting. How would she deal with other children? With teachers? With mandatory nap time?
Well, the first day, she walked right into the classroom, without nary a backward glance. A friend of mine, a former preschool teacher, said to me afterwards, “It means that she was ready to be out in the world.”
Of course, there have been a handful of teary drop-offs since then. Inexplicable mornings when she clings and cries and doesn’t want me to leave. Or at least they are mysterious to me. I’m sure she has her reasons for feeling vulnerable and clingy those mornings.
It is a little bit of an adjustments to go from being with a child all the time to only seeing her in the mornings and evenings. There is so much to her day that I don’t get to witness, so many lightbulb moments that I miss. She can now count and recognize shapes and letters. I certainly didn’t teach her that. But I’m grateful that someone else is.
Every day when she comes home from school, I give her a big hug, and I ask her, “How was your day today?” (I know such a vague open ended question is exactly the kind of thing parenting articles tell us not to ask, but it slips out before I can think of anything else.)
And every day she says with excited pride, “I didn’t cry at nap time!”
I don’t know what goes on at school that not crying at nap time is the highlight of her day, but it always makes me laugh when she says it.
At her parent teacher conference two weeks ago, I asked the teacher about this, wondering, “Does she usually cry at naptime?”
“Well,” they answered, “The first week, she did. She found naptime hard. But now she does really well at naptime.”
I thought about it in the days afterwards, and and, really… not crying at naptime – it actually seems like a pretty good barometer for how one’s day is going. When the things that used to be a struggle are almost mundane, it is easy for these previous challenges to fade into the mist and for our minds to adapt to a new, higher bar for a “good day”. Things like remembering to pay the bills on time, or making the bed in the morning morph into bigger tasks like estate planning and having the house spotless and it’s easy to feel daunted. Sometimes, though, it is good to remember when those low bars once seemed really high, and to celebrate one’s continued ability to hurdle them.
Here’s wishing you a wonderful (American) Thanksgiving week, where there is no crying at naptime.
The five year old, I think I’ve mentioned, is in a French immersion program at school. The teacher does not speak English to the children at all, and all the signage, and lessons, and what not are in French. Their specials are in English, but otherwise it’s full immersion. It’s been really interesting to see what bits of language he comes home with. They have learned numbers and and letters and colours. “Red” is “rouge”, as it should be, but “blue” is … “blue”, the difference between “blue” and “bleu” subtle enough not to register with him, especially when spoken. Interesting too, is when he comes home and asks me what certain phrases mean. Of course, to him, they are not separate words, but just a long string of syllables.
“What is ‘luvaylama’?” he asked me the other day.
“I’m not quite sure,” I say. And I ask him to say it more slowly. After several times, I finally get it: “Levez la main.” Raise your hand. I’m not a linguistic researcher, but I do find it fascinating that our brains must at some point learn to break down strings of syllables into separate components. When the baby was younger, I enrolled her in all sorts of language studies at the University, and one of them centered around when children started to differentiate forms of speech. They would play videos of various nonsense syllables and at some point, apparently, kids, even though they don’t know what a word specifically means, will recognize if something is an action word or a “thing” word.
And then there is the wonder of seeing how the five year old’s brain comes to understand things based on context.
Last week, he asks me, “Does ‘Pas maintenent’ mean ‘I don’t want to answer that question?'”
“Pas maintenant“, literally means “not now“, but in a way, the five year old’s understanding, if not literally correct, probably captured the spirit of the way he heard it. And in his interpretation, I could suddenly see clearly how the teacher might have used that phrase – I could picture her trying to get twenty-five kindergarteners to line up for lunch and one child trying doggedly to ask something, and the teacher telling that child, “Pas maintenant!”
Seeing the little guy grapple with language and puzzle it out in his brain really hits home the idea that language doesn’t operate in a vacuum.
Switching gears – Four Haikus for Thursday:
Chaotic morning Multitasking results in Scraping off burnt toast.
The hours are long from 4pm til lights out, Interminable.
This sick day, restful. The invalid now restless Clearly recovered.
The view was lovely And briefly seen. Shivering. Should have worn more clothes.
Sometimes I think of all the things that I’ll pass along to my kids – especially all the things that I want to pass along to them but will likely not ever see come to happen. I mean there’s the financial and material, but also I think about the intangible things. Whenever I think of holding on to stuff for my kids, I think of something the Minimalists said to a listener who was having a hard time cleaning out his parents’ house after their death. “You are your parent’s legacy,” they said, “not their stuff.” It’s still hard for me to get rid of things, but these words are a bit of comfort when I do chose to part with something – these bits and things are not me. But also it’s somehow more weighty to think that my legacy is something so much more lasting than stuff.
At any rate, a lot of the times as I think of what I want my little humans to learn from me, I wonder if any of the good things I want to pass along get through to them. Lord knows, the bad things do… the yelling and the petty grievances, and the bad habits – those I see in them in the most cringeworthy ways. But the good stuff? Or maybe I’m not giving them enough good fodder?
This week, while camping with the two little kids, I tried really hard not to be too busy to enjoy being out in the woods and hanging out with these two little creatures. I’m trying to not let the things that occupy my mind take up so much space that I can’t experience the things that I like about being in the tent – the air, the trees, the golden sunsets, the fire, the unplugging (though to be fair, we had plenty of cell signal the whole time so there was period scrolling and texting).
At one point, as I was trying to make dinner, I realized that I was having a good time. I was enjoying the sunshine and the woods and my kids’ antics. I paused and gave the five year old a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re camping with me. This is fun.”
He gave me back a big hug in return. I turned back to continue to make dinner.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him walk over to his little sister. His pesky little sister that not five minutes ago, was taking his sticks and fighting with him. The little sister who snatches his toys and then laughs in his face at his distress. The little sister who liked putting her feet in her face while they ride in the car. (I really should turn her car seat around…)
He walks over to her, gives her a big hug, and says, “I’m so glad you’re camping with me. This is fun.”
My heart grew a million times. Maybe the good stuff is getting passed down after all. Maybe the good stuff is the stuff that happens when I’m not even trying, but when I’m just simply loving them.
I am definitely a “last minute” kind of person – I tend to procrastinate and then finish projects just in time. I think it comes being a Questioner (of Gretchen Rubin’s four tendencies). I like to keep asking questions, wanting to have to have all the information in place perfectly before I can start a project. I used to wait until we had staged every scene in an opera to start my show running paperwork, thinking that I wanted the complete picture of the show before starting. I’ve come to realize, though, that I don’t need to have everything in place to start my paperwork- I can start my paperwork with what I know and – gasp!- adjust when things change in rehearsal.
Two things I read recently have shifted my thinking of waiting til the last minute to finish things.
The first was a recent post by Seth Godin. I really love how Godin can distill ideas down to their essence, and one of his recent posts really was an “Aha moment” me:
The second was on a blog Headset Chatter, written by a stage manager Karen Parlato. In their FAQ they answer a question about dealing with deadlines:
I like to do things right away. Stage management is all about juggling many balls. I like to get the ball out of my hands as quickly as possible so it’s over and done and I can move on to others without losing track of anything.
These two ideas really shifted my framing about workload and deadlines. I didn’t used to see the value of finishing things early, wanting my work to be as accurate and finessed as possible before distributing it. And even when I did start projects with plenty of time to spare, I found myself still working up til the deadline because I wanted to fuss and adjust and re-phrase. The work was done, but I was not done with it.
For example paperwork for backstage – all the information for the stage crew will be in the paperwork, but I continue to make slight adjustments in fits of self doubt – maybe if I adjust this margin, the crew notes will be clearer to read. Maybe if I write Stage Left rather than just SL it will be less confusing. Maybe if I put this picture just this way or that it will be clearer how the tea try is to be laid out of for the singer. The possibilities are infinite.
But my time is not infinite.
Godin’s and Parlato’s posts, helped me realize that finishing something early is not an excuse to keep futzing with it – the value of finishing something early is that that it gets it off my plate and pushes it to other people so that they can start to do their jobs. Holding on to something does not diminish my to do list. Getting things done just in the nick of time is not necessarily a virtue.
I really like Godin’s idea that those last sixty seconds can be a moment of peace before submitting something, time to savor and enjoy completing a task. It goes hand in hand with the idea that “Finished is better than perfect.” Sometimes as I endlessly change margins and adjust image sizes, I just need to tell myself to stop, and just be done so that I can celebrate having planned an executed something well.
I was talking to a dancer in rehearsal the other day about onstage mishaps. She was telling me about a moment during the last show we worked on together, when she was in the middle of a huge fight scene, and her skirt fell off. She couldn’t get it re-fastened, and spent the rest of the scene clutching her skirt to her body while trying to scratch someone’s eyes out.
Hearing her story brought back many memories. I’ve definitely had my share of onstage mishaps:
-There was the time that I was doing a show and a giant chalkboard was supposed to fly in from above during a crucial moment of a scene. Well, we had been doing a different show the night before and in order for the set pieces of that show to fit, they had to fasten the giant chalkboard from my show off so that it wouldn’t swing. Welp… after the last show, the crew forgot to untie it for our show. So when I called the cue for the Giant chalkboard… nothing happened! There the baritone is standing with a giant piece of chalk, looking up, wondering if this huge piece of scenery is going to come in, all the while singing this very fast French patter music. The baritone, who is honestly one of the nicest people I’ve ever worked with, was so confused and a little bit angry.
-One show a the soprano was supposed to sit in a chaise to sing her big famous aria. Well in the scene previous, another character was thrown into the chaise in a fight, and the force of him collapsing in the the chaise shattered it. Afterwards he told me that he tried to figure out how to put it back together while staying in character, but it was futile. No one was going to be sitting in that chaise. The soprano ended up singing her big aria about love and life leaning against a desk.
– There was the recital I stage managed, of a husband and wife opera singing couple where the husband, who wasn’t feeling very well, walked offstage in the middle of their duet. “I can’t,” he muttered to himself, leaving his wife and the pianist standing on stage and the audience completely befuddled. We took a quick fifteen minute pause. The wife and the pianist looked through all the music they had with them and cobbled together a solo recital program. It still ended up being an evening of beautiful music. The husband and wife singers are no longer married.
-There was the time when the clarinetist for a show thought that the performance was at 7pm when it was at 2pm. By the time we realized he was missing he was too far away to come in for the show, so the conductor and the pianist re-orchestrated the entire show to cover for the missing clarinet.
– Last spring, when I had to step in and call the show for a colleague, I accidentally left the lighting channel turned off during a crucial moment. (The lighting channel is the headset channel that I use to talk to the light board operator. Usually I have different channels to talk to different departments so that people don’t have to listen to all the different departmental conversations at once.) Anyhow, I left the lighting channel off accidentally, so when I called for the stage to go dark so we could execute a scene shift, the light board op couldn’t hear me and didn’t take the light cue. So the stage did not go dark, and the audience got to witness the somewhat awkward sight of the crew coming onstage to push scenery around.
Luckily these incidents did not involve injury, just lots of awkwardness and a bit of fast thinking of how to triage the situation.
As I was talking to the dancer about her skirt incident, she mentioned that her boyfriend had come to see the show and he said he thought it seemed like she was holding on to her skirt awfully tight. We had a good laugh about how sometimes things happen onstage and the show isn’t perfect. It’s very very rarely perfect, in fact. Often even though it is mortifying or stressful at the time, it makes for a good story afterward. She said that she felt bad that her boyfriend didn’t get to see the perfect show.
“You know,” I told her, “It’s live theatre. That was just the show that they got that night.”
I think that’s one of the beautiful things about live theatre – it’s not something that is to be experienced the same way over and over again like a movie might be. Of course we aim for consitency, and for safety’s sake that’s the goal. At the same time, things happen, things that you can’t predict, even though you can learn and prevent them from happening again. (putting an extra stitch in that skirt hook, writing a Post-it in my book that says, “Lighting channel ON”…) Friday night’s show is not going to be the same as Sunday afternoon’s show, and that’s okay. For Friday night’s audience, that is the show that they get to see; that’s the unique experience that they get to have.
And as I said that to the dancer, I realized that this is true of life too. We can plan and plan and anticipate events, but sometimes things happen, and this is just the moment/day/month/life that we get. It might not be what we rehearsed, but it’s still can be a very fine moment.
So many Post-Its! A page from my score for the opera Radamisto.
(So I realize, after the it was written that this post got a little in the weeds about stage management life… hopefully there isn’t too much theatre lingo in it! But happy to explain if anyone is confused by the terminology. I think I take the terms for granted sometimes and assume it’s pretty clear what we are talking about.)
Sometimes, when calling a show, I would get a note from the director that something was called late. And I will look at that page in my score or script, where things are a rainbow of post its which tell me when to call the cues, and I think to myself, “Oh yes. It was. There is a sound cue and a light cue at the same time and I had to page the cast, and the rail cue right before…. I need to just practice reading those Post-Its so I say everything in time for the stage crew to execute the cue when the director wants it.” That’s the internal monologue.
To the director I’ll say, “Yes, I felt that. It will get better. Stage managers need rehearsals too.” (Because it doesn’t get said enough – Singers get three weeks of rehearsals to figure out what they are doing onstage. Stage Managers are expected to make everything happen onstage perfectly the first time when we tech show.)
And the next rehearsal the same thing will happen and the cue will be late again.
And I just keep thinking, I need to practice and do it a couple more times so that I say “go” at the right moment. Sometimes I get frustrated that I missed it and blame the conductor’s lack of downbeat, or the noise backstage, or what not…. Before the next rehearsal, I’ll listen to the recording of the opera with my score in front of me, and practice calling, so that I’ll feel prepared at the next rehearsal.
And I’ll call it late again.
And after rehearsal that night I’ll stare at that page, and there will be a moment when I look at it in defeat and confusion and frown…
… and then I’ll just move one of the Post It.
Maybe I’ll move it one bar later, or half a page sooner, but regardless – I’ve realized that one of those Post-Its has to move. Not, of course a Post It that says “Go” for when the cue is supposed to happen. But maybe a Post It for a “Standby” to warn the crew that the cue is coming up, or a “Places” call for when I ask the cast to come to stage. And amazingly, just moving that one Post-it opens up space and time and allows me to call the cues with a little more room.
In my head, I need to page the singer to Places five minutes before their entrance – this is the standard. But I can in fact page the singer five minutes and thirty seconds before their entrance. I can move that “Places” Post-it thirty seconds away from the “Light Cue – Go” Post it. And that extra thirty seconds gives me the time to call the light cue in the right place and stage magic will happen exactly when the director wants it to.
I was thinking of this lately, how shifting one thing can make everything else easier. As the weather here turns chilly and the sun is still too low at 8:45am to have dried the dew from the windows of my car so that when it is time to take the kids to the school bus the car is still covered in moisture – it feels like there is one more Post-It on the page than I am used to. There were a couple of days last week when we were almost late because I had to wipe down the car so I could see safely out the windows. And as the weather gets cooler, there will be more tasks between the school bus alarm going off and getting to the school bus on time. Right now the tasks are: Shoes on, jackets on, backpacks on, get in the car, drive. But in a few weeks, there will be frost on the car windows. There will be winter coats and boots and hats and mitts. There will be letting the car warm up. There will be shoveling of snow.
And I’m sure the first few times there will be almost misses of the school bus. And I will be frustrated and annoyed that the September “School Bus” alarm does not get us to the bus on time in December. And then I will remember that light cue that I never called right until I moved the other Post-it. And I will move the metaphorical Post-it and set the “School Bus” alarm five minutes earlier. And that will give us the space we need to get make morning magic happen. Morning magic being: arriving at the school bus without any yelling or panic.
Having a routine plan is good, but only if it gets me where I need to be. I have to remind myself – if things aren’t working, sometimes I just need to move a Post-It.
My first glimpse of Fall colour this year – at Mont Royal in Montreal in AUGUST!!!
Today is officially Fall!
Earlier this month, I was thinking about all the “Summer Fun Lists” I see around the internet and, conversely this article “Our Biggest Regrets from this Summer “ on Slate. I certainly did not do all the activities on my summer fun list, but I did a lot of them. As I watch the last rays of summer fade, I realized that while there are certainly things I did not get to, I don’t really regret not doing them. I think of my Summer List as a brain dump of all the possible fun things to do between mid-June and September, and I don’t have to do them all; I can chose things off the list that suit my mood and situation at any given time. There is no Bingo prize for checking all the boxes. Certainly there are things on the summer list that do require advance planning – travel, seeing friends, activities that require tickets – but many things do not. And being a planning resistant person, I find that it really helps me clarify my priorities to see what I’m willing to put in the effort to plan for or even do on a whim.
Take, for example, my monthly mom’s group happy hour. I’m the one who plans these for my mom’s group, and it usually goes on the calendar three weeks out. I very rarely plan things that far in advance. Of course there are things that go on the calendar that far out, but these are the immovable things that are set by others – swim meets, rehearsal and performance dates, summer camp, etc. My mom’s group happy hour is one of the rare things that I will actively make plans for – I send out a doodle poll for dates and venue suggestions, pick the date and venue, make reservations, tell my Husband so he can plan to be home with the kids that night. It seems like a lot of work, but I feel like mom’s group happy hour is a priority – I love seeing these moms and swapping stories about poop.
The things on my list that I decide to do last minute or the day before – it’s not really a question of priority – it’s just that I think the priority during the summer is to get out and enjoy the sunshine, so any one of a variety of activities will do. I feel so lucky that there are so many wonderful adventures to have near me that can be pulled off impulsively, so there will always be worthwhile and beautiful things to do. As Oliver Burkeman notes in 4000 Weeks – once one realizes the finite nature of life, one can let go of the infinite possibilities and focus on those things that one actually chooses to do.
Last year, we tried to complete the Maryland Ice Cream Trail, and were a little bummed not to get to all ten creameries on the list and vowed to complete it this year. But you know what? We only made it to two of the ten this year, and I’m fine with that. We still had tasty ice cream. Last year we went to three creameries in one day in our quest and that was arguably not a great move. A great memory, but still… regrettable in other ways.
Alright, now that I think of it, I do have one summer regret – I regret signing the ten year old up for County camp. She didn’t love it (apparently the kids were mean) and it was a bit of a schlep for me. Of course hindsight is 20/20 because she loved the camp last year – but this year, I guess it was a different group of kids. At any rate, now I know and I think next year, we will do fewer weeks of camp. Perhaps over winter break I will have her come up with a list of all the possible things she might be interested in doing and then.
I’m not saying there aren’t other things that I wish I had done more of or less of this summer, but I don’t think I had a summer to regret.
Having said all that, Here are some thoughts and aspirations for Fall, roughly (if not technically) between now and Thanksgiving.
Hallowe’en Costumes. I love making Hallowe’en costumes. Last year’s Millenium Falcon was certainly epic for me. This year, however, the two littles wanted to be something that was going to be far simpler to just buy. The ten year old, however, has a more creative idea in mind. I think she was a little disappointed that she couldn’t top her brother’s Millenium Falcon last year (but honestly, what could?). So this year she has an idea that will be a lot of fun and involves cardboard. Or maybe foam core. We’ll see.
Carve a Jack-o’-Lantern, or two or three. I love pumpkin carving. I’m actually working on Hallowe’en this year, so I’ll have to pre-game. Maybe I should also come up with an appropriate costume to wear backstge?
Another round of attic clean out. Finally work up the heart to get rid of the baby stuff.
Apple Picking. If not apple picking then at least apple sauce and apple pie.
Fall Camping. Given my lack of two day weekends this one is very very aspirational.
Hiking in fall colour. Hopefully once a month. By the looks of this fall foliage predicator, it seems like peak colour with happen in our area around the end of October. The Husband is taking the kids to New York to meet up with my parents that weekend, and since that is tech week, I won’t be going. However…. that means that I will have a day off my myself, so I think I will plan a hike on that free day. Or maybe even a bike ride. There are also lots of hikes and activities that our County Parks department sponsors. They always look really interesting and informative, so I want to see if any will fit in our schedule.
Celebrate the baby’s birthday. This is actually this weekend. I didn’t get it together to plan a party, but we have family in town and we will have cake and balloons (shhh… this last will be a surprise). And she got to pick her breakfast cereal at the grocery store this week, a tradition in our household. She picked Fruity Pebbles.
Go to the Theatre. This one is practically done. I have tickets for Hamilton this weekend, purchased four months ago. I never plan theatre (or anything, really) that far out in advance, but last spring I decided that I wanted to take the two older kids so I went ahead and bought the tickets. I did kick myself later because I didn’t double check my dates – it’s the baby’s birthday weekend plus the kids have Monday off school, so maybe we could have taken a bigger family adventure. Oh well. Hamilton aside, there’s a lot of other really interesting theatre happening near us – this production of Beauty and the Beast looks to be unconventional and awesome.
Survive Tech Week. Keep practicing good habits and making sure I stay human and don’t become a theatre zombie during a tech process that I might be dreading a teeny tiny bit.
Fix the Storm Door. The glass on the storm door got broken by a child a few weeks ago. It’s a pretty old door so will need to be replaced, I think.
Make progress towards ordering window treatments for the living room. We’ve had a stop gap solution in place for a while since our curtain rod broke. It involves sheers and some too-small black panels. I would like to take a step or two towards having proper window treatments in place again.
Ziplining with the ten year old. I had planned on taking her this summer, but it was just too hot, so we put it off until Fall.
Cozy Kitchen Adventures. Who says Fall Adventures have to mean leaving the house? Fall is the start of “hunker and carbs” season. I do want to make something in my Bundt pan since my last attempt was such a wet goopy fail.
Watch some recent movies. Cooler weather means hunkering and watching movies is a good way to hunker. I’m not always able to stay awake for a full movie these days, but there are some that I really want to stay awake for. I am super excited by this adaptation of on of my favorite books as a child, Catherine Called Birdy. AND the ten year old has read this book, so we can watch it together. Also Fire Island has been on my Watchlist all summer. It’s a gay Asian re-telling of Pride and Prejudice, and all of that is just my catnip.
Happy Hour with my mom’s group. A lot of the parents in this group prefer outdoor meet ups so I definitely want to get a few more Happy Hours in before the weather gets too chilly.
Happy Hour with fellow Stage Managers. There has been a seismic shift in the stage management staff at work this past year and it’s made me realize that I really value the my co-workers as human beings, not just as people I work with. The thought of not seeing them at all this opera season makes me a little sad, so I would love to arrange something.
Free Days that are restorative and fulfilling. Given that I’m working every weekend between next week and the middle of November, I don’t know how many of the Fall weekend specific things I’ll manage to get to – things such as Fall Festivals and Special Fall Events. Since I generally only have one day off a week, I really want to guard that time and spend it on what matters. I’ve been thinking about this lately – how to spend my one precious free day. When I have chaotic and hectic free days, I don’t feel at all ready to go back to work. A good free day needs to be a good combination of life tasks and family tasks and personal tasks and leisure tasks and social time and rest. Which seems like a lot to ask of just one day. So maybe I need to pick three of those categories each free day, with rest always being one of the choices.
I am by no means a committed Royalist but I do enjoy the sense of history and tradition that the Royal Family embodies, and I am fascinated by how that plays out for the public, particularly sartorially. I’m sure growing up in Canada influenced my feelings of respect for the Queen and all that she represented. I woke up too late to watch the Queen’s funeral service this morning, so I set my laptop on the table as we ate breakfast and we watched the procession from Westminster Abby to Wellington Arch. Surprisingly, the five year old was entranced by the proceedings and spent all morning riveted to the screen. At one point, I asked him, “What do you like about this?”
“I like watching the crowds,” he replied.
I took a break from watching to do the school bus run, and the transportation of the casket the 25 miles to Windsor coincided with some errands I had to run afterwards, though I did listen on CSPAN to the coverage. I got home in time to watch the committal service at St. George’s Chapel.
The sheer scale of the funeral was awe-inspiring. Of course, I would not expect any less for a monarch, especially one who ruled for seventy years. At one point the commentator mentioned that there were over 4000 military troops participating. All of them moving in unison. It makes the mere 210 people we had to wrangle onstage this past weekend seem like nothing. I’m going to think about this next time I do a show with a big chorus – At least I’m not coordinating 4000+ people to march in step at 75 beats per minute.
So many indelible images for me from today’s funeral:
– The flowers thrown by the crowds onto the hearse as it drove by, many of which survived the drive to Windsor so that the queen pulled into Windsor castle strewn with flowers from her people.
– The corgis, looking freshly shampooed and fluffed. It made me so happy to see the Queen’s faithful companions included in the proceedings.
– The oceans of people who lined the streets. I know there are many who have no use for the monarchy, but there are also so many who clearly were touched by th Queen and made the pilgrimage to see her off.
– The solemn faces of the Royal Family, particularly Prince George and Princess Charlotte. The Queen’s funeral is indeed a solemn state occasion, yet seeing the two children there reminded me that this is also a family affair and the loss of a matriarch is mourned as much as the loss of a Queen. I often thought of attending funerals of my own family and how hard it was to be on display somewhat during the funeral and how after everything we got back to thee house and I just felt so exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. I hope the members of the Royal Family have time to process their grief and rest after all this.
– Also – somewhat superficially, the wide array of black attire and everyone looking so elegant.
– The pallbearers moving so smoothly together that they made it look as if the coffin was gliding on air.
– The Lord Chamberlain breaking his wand of office and putting it on the coffin to be buried with the Queen. That literal break representing so clearly the end of an era was such an embodiment of the ceremonies and symbolism of a state funeral. Also – the fact that this moment, this centuries old tradition was broadcast for the first time today… I mean it certainly makes sense that the breaking of the wand hasn’t been seen by the public before; that fact really highlights how long Queen Elizabeth’s reign was, and also how the current trend seems to be to demystify a lot of the rituals of royalty.
– When they played ‘God Save the Queen” as the casket left Wellington Arch on the way to Windsor Castle, I felt a lump in my throat. Here was the last trip the Queen would make to Windsor Castle, or anywhere, really. Sending her off with the national anthem, the words of which wish for her well-being, felt like a final tribute and gesture of farewell.
All my life, the anthem has been “God Save the Queen”, and it was simultaneously jarring and poignant to hear the congregation sing “God Save the King” at the end of the commitment service. I think that’s when I realized that the Queen was really gone and the weight of the monarchy had passed to her son. When I was growing up, it never occurred to me that the words of the anthem could change. I thought that there was another anthem that was sung for Kings, tucked away somewhere to be brought out when needed. How central the monarchy is to Great Britain that the passing of one person can literally change the country’s national anthem! And, I realized as I listened to the singing of “God Save the King” and watched the face of King Charles, inscrutable yet sad, I realized that, despite the laws of primogeniture being altered recently to allow females to succeed to throne in the order of birth, given the current line of succession – King Charles, to The Prince of Wales, to Prince George – I don’t think it will ever be “God Save the Queen” again in my life time.
It feels almost silly to say, but I’m glad that I got to live through a time when it was indeed, “God Save the Queen”.
The view from my pew – the show takes place in a church.
There is a t-shirt floating around in theatre circles that says, “I can’t. I have rehearsal.”
I feel like that is where I’ve been the past two weeks.
We had three days of rehearsal in the rehearsal hall then five days onstage, three of those rehearsals with orchestra. Certainly it’s a truncated rehearsal period from what I was used to. Even still, it was nice to be back in rehearsal and getting a show up off the ground and making things happen for other people. It’s also my first time working in this venue with this group and everyone has been incredibly supportive and positive even though we are doing something fairly ambitious. I’ve been at my main stage management gig for fifteen years now (whoa! when did that happen?!?), and there is an easy familiarity with the crew that I regularly work with there – even so, I’m being reminded this past week that there are kind competent (beyond competent, really) people in many theatres all over and it’s good for me to work with and for new people. Getting to work for a stage manager that I’ve known for years certainly helps makes things easier.
Anyhow, the show opened last night. I think it’s a great show – the music is stunning and the cast, many from the musical theatre world, really sing their hearts out. There is a certain raw physicality that musical theatre performers have that opera singers don’t necessarily always display and I’ve had a lot of fun watching the show come together- it’s like they sing with their whole body, and they aren’t afraid of making the music sound ugly.
Some things on my mind lately: -I’ve barely seen the kids lately – because of being at the theatre late, I tend to sleep in late, waking up just in time to pack lunches and maybe feed the little kids breakfast, though the Husband often does that. Big props to the Husband for holding down the fort and solo parenting in the evenings. Of course, it should mean that I cherish and savour the time I do have with my kids, but it’s kind of been… not relaxing. I’ve been turning over in my mind why I struggle with parenting and how I can feel more confident about how I help my kids launch into the world. I think a lot of it boils down to resetting the expectations I have and learning to see my kids as their own people. I’ve been listening to The Puberty Podcast, and this episode on helping kids thrive really helped frame some of my struggles.
– I’m giving myself gold stars for good tech week life habits. I squeezed in a run on my dinner break one day, even though it was raining. I packed lunch and dinner and lots of healthy-ish snacks. (Though I did buy a cookie the day of final dress because the work cafeteria has the best fluffiest chocolate chip cookies, as big as my face and I thought by then I deserved to indulge). I went to bed pretty much as soon as I came home.
– Having said that, I will say, I did stay up an extra half hour one night to scroll the news of the Queen’s death and all the pageantry and protocols that are involved in laying her to rest. The breadth and depth of her life amazes me. Also, on another level, I keep thinking about the amount of work and planning that must be involved in a royal funeral and a coronation and everything. And there hasn’t been a change in British monarch in seventy years so there is no one around who can say, “Well the last time, we did this, this, and this.” I’m sure all the protocol and procedures are written down somewhere, but as someone who puts on shows for a living, I bet there will be things that come up where they say, “Wait… how did they do it last time? Why didn’t they write that down?” The logistics of how to figure out what to do fascinates me as much as the actual logistics of the proceedings.
-I do not give myself a gold star on life admin during tech week, though. The life to do list is a little lengthy right now and it’s causing a little bit of stress for me. The Husband and I had lunch yesterday and I didn’t have the brain to think about the litany of house/life maintenance that we need to get done this fall.
-The kids take any opportunity when they see my phone lying around to take pictures. Some days I open up Photos to find fifty nine pictures of the baby’s foot. But sometimes, mostly orchestrated by the oldest child, something like this appears in my photo roll, and it makes me smile.
– These lines from one of the arias in my show:
When the thunder rumbles now the age of Gold is dead. And the dreams we’ve clung to, dying to stay young have left us parched and old instead. When my courage crumbles, When i feel confused and frail. When my spirit falters, on decaying alters. And my illusions fail.
I go on right then. I go on again. I go on to say I will celebrate another day. I go on.
I’ve been so intrigued by the last five lines – is the idea that there will always be another day, and we should celebrate that day? That is to say, just having another day is cause for celebration? Or is the idea that even if today is hard and we don’t feel like celebrating, there will be days in the future where we will want to celebrate the things that we hold dear, so we should push forward? I love both sentiments.
These are the deep thoughts that I contemplate during rehearsal sometimes…
It’s a beautiful piece. You can hear this aria sung in a piano arrangement here.
Things I am grateful for: – The stranger behind me at a stoplight who got out of his car to flag me down and tell me my gas cap had rolled off my roof five blocks back. I thought I was trying to be efficient by cleaning the garbage out of the car while I pumped gas, but it got me off my rhythm of pump gas, replace gas cap, get receipt. -The Husband for getting the kids fed and to bed every night by himself. He even took the ten year old to basketball practice and the five year old to skating lessons, hauling all the kids around. -The kids for (mostly) getting themselves ready in the morning, so I can sleep til 7am most mornings. – Supportive colleagues and kind people to work with. -The cooler weather. Fall is here in the mornings, though summer still lingers in the afternoons. -The Husband for getting my bike tuned up. I went for a little bike ride this morning as I had neither work nor children to stop me. It was hard, but felt like a perfect fall activity.
What we ate – I did manage to prep dinner for most of the first week of rehearsal, even though I was working and didn’t make it home in time to eat with everyone. Most nights I had leftovers from the previous evening for dinner myself. The second week of rehearsal, the Husband planned and cooked dinner all on his own. I might have pressed tofu one night, but he handled everything else. I have no idea what they ate, so only the menu from the first week below.
Saturday: Pizza and Movie Night. We watched Secondhand Lions, a movie from 2003 that was really charming and delightful. The film, about a boy who is left with his eccentric uncles (played by Robert Duvall and Michael Caine) was the embodiment of “family movie”… I think the word “wholesome” feels out of style right now, but that would describe this movie. I don’t think they make family films like this these days; everything is superheroes and explosions.
Sunday: This was the day we went to the Renaissance Festival. We got home around 7pm so all I could muster was snack dinner, which the kids actually loved and have asked if we can do it again. I just assembled a bunch of stuff, made sure I had all the food groups, tossed it on a plate and put it in front of the kids.
Snack dinner.
Monday: Labor Day – It was proposed that we ought to grill. So, I decided to grill some meatballs from the Milk Street Tuesday Night Mediterranean. The recipe called for broiled, but I thought they worked well on the grill. I guess grilling a meatball is not much different form grilling a burger – ground meat on fire. Also grilled eggplant and Zucchini
Tuesday: This favorite vegan Gnocchi soup – at the request of the five year old. I made most of it ahead of time, so that all the Husband had to do when he came home was to bring the pot to a boil and add the kale and gnocchi. Apparently the baby even ate the kale bits. Surprising because she is in a “I don’t like vegetables” phase. (Which isn’t entirely true, but veggies are pretty hit or miss with her).
Wednesday: The Husband made stir-fry and rice.
Thursday: Instant Pot pinto beans, made before I went to work. Eaten with corn tortillas and a simple cabbage slaw.
The picture and directions I sent to the Husband for Thursday night’s dinner.
Friday: The Husband took to the kids to the golf course for the outdoor concert, and they ate sandwiches.
One of the things I’ve been trying to get back into is a short morning yoga routine. Even though YouTube abounds with yoga practices, I find I can focus better without the visual element so I usually use yoga podcasts to guide me. I know I could always just turn the volume off of a YouTube video, but I find that the people who lead the practice are less descriptive when there is a visual component. My current ideal yoga routine length is about twenty to twenty five minutes. I can do a longer practice in a class, but for some reason when on my own, I can’t focus as long. (I know the point of yoga is focus, so this is a little ironic).
The kids are now of an age that they can fend for themselves for twenty minutes in the morning while I slip away to the basement and roll out my yoga mat and put my earphones in. I’m not quite sure what they do for those twenty minutes, but I don’t think they are getting into the knives or burning the house down, so I figure they’ll be fine. Sometimes they are getting into my chocolate stash, though, which is almost as dire. On a good day, they are getting dressed.
The other day, as I was doing my yoga, the baby came down. She thinks it’s great fun to crawl all over me while I’m doing yoga. Something about the various poses screams “HUMAN JUNGLE GYM!!! OPEN FOR CLIMBING!!!”. She’ll sit on me while I do bridge pose, and giggle as she goes up and down with my pelvis. Warrior two finds her climbing up on my bent leg to hang on to my arms. Downward dog makes a tunnel for her to crawl under. It does make it a little difficult to move into chaturanga or plank pose to have her lying under me. Sometimes we play “squish” the baby when that happens.
In a way, it reminds me of when the kids were just born and I took a post-natal yoga class at my local hospital. They were held on weekday mornings and the new moms would always come in gingerly with their little squishy babies. The instructor was so amazing and she taught us to be as gentle with ourselves as we were with our little babies. Some classes, I spent the entire 45 minutes nursing, though I did manage to figure out how to nurse a baby while in bridge pose…. I’m listing this as one of my hidden talents.
At a birthday party recently, I talked to someone recently whose son was in the same pre-school class as my five year old. Turns out we had been in the same post natal yoga class with these boys who are now about to start Kindergarten. She commented on how she felt like she spent the whole class nursing and was always a little frustrated by that. “I finally got out of the house to do something,” she said, “And I still ended up attached to the baby. I felt so frustrated because I just wanted to spend some time doing something. It was supposed to be me time!”
I feel that resentment sometimes when the baby interrupts my yoga. This is me time, not mommy baby time. Yet the other day, when she came down and proceeded to insert herself into my routine, I tamped down my annoyance and tried to lean into it. I tried to savour her playfulness and her big smiles as she looked at me from below as I attempted some kind of Warrior. I took on her weight when she jumped on me as I was doing a seated forward fold. And I gave her kisses as I went from cow to cat and back again.
And then I settled into shavasana – aka corpse pose, aka the pose at the end of the practice where you just lie on your back and let go. The moment I was supine, the baby crawled on top of me and put her head on my chest. Well, actually at first she dug her pointy little chin on my chest, which was not relaxing. So I said, “Can you put your cheek on my chest?” and she turned her head to one side and laid her pillowy round cheek over my heart. And as the voice in my ear told me to relax and breathe and empty my mind, I thought, “With a thirty pound toddler on me? You’re kidding right?”
Then something happened as I tried to obey the voice in my ear that told me to breath and let go. I took deep breaths, and the baby breathed with me. And as we lay there, breathing together, I realized, “Okay, this is ‘me time’ too.” And all my resentment went away. Because I realized, right now, in this season of life, these kids are a part of me. I don’t mean that in the scary self-erasing, symbiotic almost parasitic sense that I sometimes feel when my kids are draining the energy from me. Nor was it one of those sentiments where I’m sacrificing myself and my tranquility on the altar of motherhood for these little terrors, you know, all the toxicity of the tired mom trope.
It was just this realization that our lives have been so intertwined and close, particularly these past two years, and that yeah, I do identify a lot as a mom these days, and it’s absolutely okay to allow myself to feel so defined by that. If a lot of the stress and anger and despair I feel within me some days come from parenting, then certainly a lot of the joy and wonder and peace does to. Like this moment, trying to squeeze in some yoga with a toddler interjecting at every turn. Come the following week, the kids will all be in school, and me time may look very different. For now, though, me time can be mom time, savoring the sweet weight of a little person doing Shavasana with me.
