Fractured nose but not spirit 

And she took one to the nose on Sunday. The Universe had given her a break on blows to the head but decided she needed one to the slope of cartilage and bone on her heart-shaped face. Oh, my poor girl. But, as with everything, she took it like a champ.

Ri had not wanted to go to her softball double-header on Sunday morning. She has gotten really into soccer this season, and wants to concentrate all of her efforts on that sport. But Jon and I told her that she had committed to fall ball, and therefore, needed to finish out the season. In any case, there were only three more doubleheaders to play before the season ended. She obliged us and left in good spirits with Jon at 9:30 am for her games. 

I arrived near the end of the first game to see her get a hit to shortstop and thrown out at first. She walked over to where John and I were standing, and gave me a hug. “Did you see my hit, mom?” I told her that I had seen it and Jon chimed in that she got an earlier hit and made it to first. With those congratulated her and told her to get back over with her team. She rolled her eyes amusingly and skipped back over to her teammates. John left after the first game but not before getting her a big hug and telling her he loved her. Ri was excited because they had small packages of Pringles for snacks between the games. She sat with her teammates enjoying her sour cream and onion chips. 

Game two began shortly after the girls finished their snacks. I sat on the bleacher bench next to some friends. We were talking about the latest and greatest news and podcasts when someone yelled out “Maria got hit.” I looked out into left field and there she was curled up in a ball with five people surrounding her. I did not jump up immediately with the hopes that they were taking care of her and she was fine. But then someone said to me “she is bleeding pretty good, she may need her mom.” I hopped up and rushed out to see her. When I arrived, I saw a large pool of blood in the grass and four large washcloths soaked with my baby’s blood. It was coming out of her nostrils and from a gash on the top of her nose. Luckily, my girlfriend is a nurse and was able to both control the bleeding and calm Ri down. We were finally able to walk her off the field with washcloths under her nose to catch the continued bleeding. Once we hit the bathroom, the bleeding had slowed to the point Ri could hold a cloth up to her nose and it would not be drenched within seconds. She was so upset. I just knew she was cussing me out for making her go to the game. I was cussing myself out because now look at us – we were going to have to spend the entire day in the hospital and who knows if she’d play soccer again. Was there a way to turn back time?



Everybody was so helpful in gathering up Ri’s things and getting her to my car. We zoomed along the highway to the Utgent Care. Ri was so nervous; she did not want to get stitches. The girl who loves shots was worried about a few stitches.  The mind is a wondrous thing. She did not care at all about how she looked, all she cared about was not having to get those darn stitches. The team of medical folks got us in fairly quickly but then we waited for the doctor for quite some time.  I needed something to keep Maria’s mind occupied so we looked at the history of Elena on Instagram. Maria could do that once a day and never tire of it.


The doctor finally strolled in and took a look at Maria. She was friendly and answered all of Maria’s questions. The first question being “will I need stitches?” She answered the way Maria wanted her to with a resounding “no.” It was as if Maria had been carrying 100 pound weights on her shoulders and someone had lifted them off her. She felt around Maria’s face and neck and looked into her nose, and declared that she did not think it was broken. Thank goodness! She gave us direction on how to care for her nose over the coming weeks, and did talk about the possibility of a scar where her gash was located. Ri could have cared less about anything she was saying – not about the scar, not about any  deformity – all she cared about was that there was no stitches. 

We were excited to be able to leave. Maria had a date with her girlfriend to hold puppies that had just been born three weeks ago (Maria was addicted to them, and had spent most of the weekend holding them with her girlfriend). I was hoping to hit the tail end of Mario’s football game. 

But then the door creaked open, and the doctor poked her head inside. “I am going to have to order an x-ray just to make sure her nose is not broken. They should be in soon to get her.” My stomach dropped. I kept thinking “if the doctor did not think it was broken then she is most likely correct, right?” Oh, I did not want Ri to deal with a broken nose. Ri, true to form, was only concerned about those stitches. She asked whether a broken nose would require stitches. 

We got the x-ray and waited. About 45 minutes later, the doctor walked back in the room. She was smiling – that’s a good thing, right? As she smiled, she told us that Maria did have a fracture in her nose. Seriously? How are you going to smile while getting that news? While I viewed about the disjuztaposition of the doctor’s cues, Maria asked her “well I need stitches?” The doctor answered in the negative, which is all Maria I needed to hear. I could hear her on the inside saying “who cares if I have a broken nose, if my nose will be out of whack, if I have a huge scar, all I want is for no stitches!”

I felt a bit of a relief when the doctor informed us that the fracture may very well heal on its own. She thought that there was more of a chance that it would heal on its own then we would have to get surgery. That was the best I was going to do for the day and so I took it and ran with it. And so they came in and cleaned up Maria’s gash, gave us some tips on treatment, and told us to continue to keep an eye on the shape of her nose as the swelling went down. 


Maria made jokes on our way home, and begged to go to her friend’s house to see the puppies. You would not of thought that she just suffered a broken nose. Later in the evening, when she returned from her friends house, she did start to feel a little puny. I gave her Tylenol and a massage. She was asleep by 8:45 PM. When I came downstairs, I found a get-well note signed by her teammates as well as the $5 bounty the coach gives to the player that played best during the game. I also received a delivery of frosted animal crackers from Ri’s girlfriend (she knows Ri well). After times like these, I am always reminded of how great of friends Ri and I have in the community. 


The next morning, Ri woke up in a great mood. Surprisingly, and who’s had not swelled up beyond belief. It was definitely better but not as big as Jon and I thought it would be. She begged to play in her soccer game that evening but Jon and I nixed it. She was mad at first but then reasoned “if I can’t play 100%, then I really don’t want to play anyway.”  She sent me s text during the day informing me that her nose “didn’t look that bad.” She partied it up with her teammates on the bus ride to the soccer game and wanted to stay to watch the boys play after her game. She likes to ride the bus home with her teammates and the boys soccer team because they sing and act silly. She could’ve cared less that she had a big old broken nose going on. 


She came waltzing through the door at 8:30 at night singing and laughing and yelling “what’s up??” I asked how the game was and she explained that they lost. She said at one point somebody was complaining that they had a headache and she said “I looked at them and said ‘I feel your pain girl, look at this nose of mine!'” Damn, how I love our girl’s self-deprecating style. she can roll with some serious punches. I am not quite sure that Mario or many other kids would have such a great sense of humor and positive attitude in the same circumstance. 

But let’s not find out anytime soon. 

Partyin’ with the Ritz

Once our girl gets wind that there is a party, she is raring to go! We finally were able to schedule our annual dunk tank party for Mario’s baseball team and Maria’s softball team this year. It was pathetic that we could find no weekends in July or beginning of August to have the party because of all of the activities the kids were in during the summer. We ended up choosing the Sunday after the first week of school, and we had surprisingly great weather. 85° and sunny. 

But back to our party planner, Maria Grace. She began planning the party is soon as I told her the date. It’s all about the good food with her so she immediately looked up all sorts of recipes. But, alas, the Internet was trumped by the good old-fashioned recipes on a box. Yep, our girl found delicious appetizer recipes on the back of a Ritz cracker box. We are so proud that she represents our Reading, Ohio and Marietta, Ohio roots as well as she does! 

She found two recipes that she thought would be best for the party. One was a little bit more “posh” for the adults at the party and the other one was more likely to suit the taste buds of the kids at the party. The “posh” one included guacamole, sour cream and black beans and the kid one included pasta sauce, pepperoni and cheese. Both on top of a delicious Ritz cracker!

We drove off to Kroger’s to gather the ingredients. 


The crackers were a hit. Ri taste-tested a few of them to make sure that they were edible. She was proud of herself as she chimed “now those are some good Ritz crackers!”

They were gobbled up in minutes by the guests. Hilarious. The kids needed fuel before spending the next three hours in the dunk tank, and leave it to Ri to deliver mighty fine fuel there way.

Anniversary no. 15

At this time on August 17, 2002, I was drinking lots of wine and groovin’ on the dance floor in my gym shoes and wedding dress. 

Fifteen years later, I am making pb&j sandwiches for the kids’ school lunch and running to the pet store for another bag of crickets to feed the gecko.  

I did score a quick kiss from my hubby, however, before he ran out the door to help with Mario’s football practice. 

And I cooked him up some pasta with fresh tomatoes and olive oil at 8:30 pm after we’d picked up the kids from practice and taken out the trash and put away the dishes from the past day. We sat together for 20 minutes and caught up on our days before heading up to give the kids’ goodnight hugs. 

Yea, that’s how we roll anymore. But damn if we could imagine life any other way but than the messy, hectic, hilarious way it is right now. We are partners through it all. There have been numerous times when we were pissed at one another to the point we thought “why did I choose this jacka– to be with forever?!” but we knew – even in that frustration – that there is no one else we’d rather be with in this life.  The laughter and connection and love far outweighs any momentary pissiness. 

So, here’s to 15 more years, babe, and fifteen more after that and fifteen more…. I am grateful our lives crossed and we decided to walk through this lifetime together.

Why I wrestle

Lately, I have been so excited to head home from work. Ok, you are thinking, who isn’t happy to leave the workplace behind? It is more than just calling it a day from meetings, memos, conference calls, however. It is the thrill of knowing I get to spend time with the kiddos – take a walk with them, throw the ball, watch their game. My time with them in this place is limited. I can imagine in a few years that Ri is not going to ask me to go roller skating on the hills with her and Mario is not going to beg me to watch Modern Family with him. A girlfriend posted this blog on Facebook; I saw it as I took my afternoon power walk around campus. I usually save such posts for another time (which typically doesn’t come – 50 “saves” waiting for me) and continue to scroll looking at posts from friends playing at the beach or hiking the mountains. Keep my mind busy with busy pictures. 

But I chose to open her post and read it. I was transported back to yesterday morning as I poured Maria’s Crispix and Mario’s Krave in separate blue bowls. I stopped the Krave mid-way rather than three-fourths of the way up the bowl because Mario complains if I give him too much cereal. I poured a bit of sugar on Ri’s Crispix and heated up her hot tea and honey to calm her sore throat. They both kept their eyes fixated on the tv as I handed them their cereal, shifting their outreached arms to find the bowl in front of them. I watch Ri bring spoon to mouth mesmerized by the girl talking on the tv. I watched Mario continue to stare at the picture and not begin to eat. I get on him like I do every morning.

“Mario, you have to eat breakfast.”

I repeat this two more times and he finally takes a bite. He will later leave one-fourth of the cereal sopping in the bowl and complain the cereal was too soggy. I repeat for the hundredth time that he needs to eat faster and then he won’t have that problem but he isn’t listening. 

I leave the house for work and I wish I was home with them. And then I’m home with them and sometimes wish I was at work. I’m sure they feel the same at times – want me there but also wish I’d leave so they could go into their reclusive worlds and play Sims or watch You Tube. That distance for a few hours hurls me back into their arms and wanting more of them. Eat their faces, squeeze their middles, kiss their shoulders. I’ve been doing a much better job over the years of soaking in that overt adoration and affection that only kids can give and take. 

We go upstairs to get ready for bed. I’ve called Ri five different times to come upstairs as she watches a final episode of Dance Moms. I’ve given two M&M yogurts to Mario who is starving because he only ate two bites of dinner.  They wrestle on the kitchen floor and swing each other around as I put Rocco in his kennel with a broken off piece of dog biscuit. I laugh at them and bark “come on” at least three times before Ri darts upstairs and Mario jumps on me to be carried to his room. They jump on the bed, beg me to wrestle. I tell them is it too late to wrestle. They beg me again. I say no again. They beg one more time. I give in…but put my foot down to  “only five minutes.”

I give in most of the time. I used to beat myself up about it and think “you have got to lay down the rules and be done.” But the blog post this morning reminded me of why I give in. They will be gone shortly. They will be living their lives outside of our family home. Hopefully, I will see them on a regular basis. But I may not. 

That is why I wrestle. 

Summer of sports

Isn’t summer supposed to bring rest and relaxation? If not for parents who are working year round, at least for kids? I feel like Jon and I and the kids have been running around like chickens with our heads cut off more so in the last few weeks since school has been let out then throughout the entire school year. 

Mario shot straight into basketball camp a week after school was out. He went there from 9 AM until noon every day, came home and ate lunch, and headed to the pool for a few hours with his buddies. Then, he would return home to eat a sandwich and head off to the baseball field for a game. The entire family has been living on hot dogs, KitKats and Gatorade through the month of June. 

Mario is pitching this year; all last year, he could not wait to move out of coach pitch and into player pitch. He had Jon and I out back with him every night catching his pitches. He’s got a nice throw on him. His first game he struck out quite a few batters. He ran into the dugout after he pitched with a serious, intense look on his face not showing any emotion relating to his performance. He was super cool. Although, Jon and I both knew his heart was thumping and he was pumped. 


He’s been getting his bat around, too. He had a beauty of a hit to right field one game but the only player that can catch from the other team was playing right that night. He loves baseball; Jon and I agree that may be his long-term sport. 


He’s off to football camp this week from 9 am to noon again. This week is a scorcher with temps in the 90s. I made him wear sunscreen this morning and he was less than happy. 

“Nobody wears the stuff, mom. That is how I have my bronzed look.”

This comment was made after he gelled his hair into a perfect wave on his head. 


Meanwhile, our other child barely manages to gather her thick, tussled hair in a ponytail for her practices. Maria decided to do swim team this summer. I still don’t know the real reason why. I have begged her to join swim team for the last four years and she always declined. And when I say “declined”, I mean she was adamant that she had no desire to join swim team. But her friend Evelyn seemed to convince her this winter while they were playing basketball (another sport she always refused to play until recently) that she should come out to swim team. She talked about how much fun it was with the other girls and how they all just played around and had a great time together. Something that Ev said resonated with Maria and she informed me in late winter that she wanted to sign up. I didn’t hesitate; I went to the Gators website and signed her up. I thought it would be good for her to get up early in the summer and start her day. I think she romanticized about how nice it would be to do the same. As of late last week, I think she was second guessing her decision. When I went to wake her up at 6:50 AM, she kicked the covers off of her nearly kickinh me in the thigh and huffed and puffed around her room as she looked for her bathing suit.  

There is a whole other blog post waiting to be written about how proud I am of Maria going out for swim team. Most tweens, I believe, would never try out for a team where they have never practiced in that sport before and knew that they would be far behind other kids. But that did not deter Maria, who is in it for the comraderie and for the laughs. However, Maria is not superhuman and she did suffer a bit of anxiety and nerves prior to her first meet. She was unable to dive off the diving board because she was concerned about hitting her head in the water. The concussion she got in soccer last spring still messes with her at times. She also was concerned about not being fast at all and losing to a bunch of third-graders. Luckily, my girlfriend was at one of our softball games and talked with her about how these meets were all about beating your personal time and not worrying about whether you beat the person in the next lane. I also reiterated that Jon and I did not expect her to win at any meet – swim team was more of a conditioning to get her ready for soccer and to make her a better swimmer. I was up all night wondering whether I should give her an out and let her get off the team, wondering if I had put too much on her this Summer. I decided to have her do the one meet and see how it went. 

When I arrived at the pool for the meet, she had “eat my bubbles” written on her back and came running up to me with a couple of her friends smiling. I was relieved. She made it across the pool and back for each of her swims, and I was proud as heck of her. She has now gotten to the point of wanting to beat her time from the last meet – she does have her mom’s competitive spirit in her! 


Maria is also playing softball. She is in the same boat as Mario – coming home from swim, doing homework, playing with a friend, making slime, choking down some pasta, and then warming up with me prior to heading to her game. 

I decided to coach one more year since Maria will be on the middle school team next year. I think overall Maria enjoys me being her coach although there are many a times when we get on each other’s last nerve. She refuses to allow me to root for her when she is up to bat. She is doing great with her pitching – thank god – because she is one of only two pitcher for our team this year. I think she embraces that responsibility and has taken it on herself to be a leader for the girls, which means she yells at them to cheer and talk in the field! She is a mini-me in that way. 

So there we have it; evidence as to why there have been a lack of posts in June – busy, busy, busy!

Happy 12th Ri!

Our baby girl turned 12 on May 2. It’s hard to believe that 12 years ago, I was walking around the hospital halls trying to break my water so that I could finally meet her face-to-face. What would she look like? How would she act? Would she cry a lot or be chill? 

I had worked out the morning Ri was born – a 3 mile run and then weight-lifting and squats. I drove down to the doctor’s office for my 9 am appointment fully expecting to hear that all was going smoothly and take care until my next weekly visit. After all, I was still two weeks away from my due date. But surprise! As I laid on the table with legs spread and hands resting on my belly trying to feel Ri kick at me, the doctor peeked up from behind the sheet to calmly pronounce “you are dilated and effaced – you are going to have a baby today.”

Shit!

My stomach ached with fear of the pain of birth, joy at finally meeting my daughter, anxiety about the contractions, excitement about this change in our lives. But mostly, fear of the pain I was going to go through since I was adamant to “go natural” with no drugs. My Aunt Terrie had given me her birth video from the 1990s and listening to it would make you believe that she was being tortured by every person in the room. I laughed while watching it at my 6 month mark but it was not funny any longer. This was the real deal! 

The contractions came on the way to the hospital  with Jon (I drove home from my doctor’s appointment in order to take the dog for a quick walk and gather my things – Jon thought I was insane). They weren’t bad at all – just strange. Then they came every three minutes once we were in a hospital room. Still, they were tolerable. After an hour, the doctor recommended that they break my water and see what happens. They broke it at 12:30 PM and just over two hours later – at 2:41 – I got to make face-to-face contact with Maria Grace. I did not know what to think about those little black eyes staring up at me. 

Was she actually going to call me “mom” someday? How did this come about? How was I, a “mom?!”

When I was pregnant with Maria, I read an essay by Anna Quindlen in Newsweek titled I’ll Never Stop Saying Maria. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I must’ve read it 20 times over and cried each time harder than the last. I had a rough relationship with my mom as a teenager. She and I would fight – and fight hard – over the dumbest things.  Harsh words thrown like grenades at one another. Slamming doors. Screaming and tears. I had similar fights with my stepmom as a teen. In looking back, you can reason it – you can see why it was all happening. I had a lot of emotions swirling around my teen body with my parents’ divorce, my move from my community, being apart from my baby sister. I didn’t process how I was acting, why I was acting the way I was, how I may be hurting people who had dedicated themselves to raise me. Was this how it would be with me and this girl growing in me?

 At one point in my pregnancy, the fear of having a daughter was so great that I thought “I don’t think I will love her as much as I love my dog!” My dog wouldn’t scream at me and fight me to the death. 

But then my daughter arrived. 

The first few weeks, I would wake up terrified she was suffocating or choking on throw-up (too many 80’s horror movies). I would run into her room and jostle her to make sure I could see that she was breathing (I completely relate to Shirley McClane’s character in Terms of Endearment when she would pinch Deborah Winger, hear her cry, and then leave the room with a sigh of relief)!

In Quindlen’s essay, she argues that raising a daughter is a “complex matter.” She states:

Despite those who burble about someone to shop and chat with, the truth is that in their search for self, girls challenge their mothers in a way that boys rarely do. The ruling principle of burgeoning female identity seems to be a variation on Descartes: I am not my mom, therefore I am. Prudence Quindlen’s revenge, my father once called our youngest child, figuring she would give me the agita that I had given my own gentle mother. Certainly that has sometimes been the case. But Maria has done something for me that I never anticipated. She made me want to be a better woman.

Ri is just starting to test me and exhibit a bit of lip. It’s bearable for the moment. Typically, after a squabble, she will come give me a hug and apologize or I will do the same. We don’t stay angry for long. I want to think it will stay this way when she’s 16 – how much can she really change? My friends with teens laugh hysterically at my question. And then I think back to me at 16. Holy hell….

I am a Type A personality – I want control over things and I want them executed, NOW. I cannot sit still for more than three minutes, and I am prone to the extremes. I could hike for 10 hours straight. I thrive on constant action. Maria loves to savor her time. She could sit down to an amazing meal for five hours and simply enjoy the company and the deliciousness of the food. I would scarf mine down in 10 minutes and say “where are we off to next?!” Ri loves to rollerskate and rock climb; she could skip intense competition altogether. Ri is a daredevil. She would skydive or bungee jump in a heartbeat; I would rather have my eyes poked out. Ri listens and feels down to her core. She knows how to be in the moment. I barely savor a bite of my double chocolate chip scone on Sunday morning. These personality differences – along with raging hormones – are bound to cause some strife, but I am still confident, as Ri turns 12, that we can weather it. After all, I have the two women who weathered it with me giving me advice and solace during these times.

Ri is a fun kid – rarely in a foul mood – and she loves to have a good time. Even a ride to Target ends up amusing with her. She throws herself into the world – not caring if people look at her funny or think she’s weird. One of her mottos could be: “This is me – take it or leave it.” I’ve commented on numerous occasions that she may want to re-think wearing pj’s and roller skates to the coffee shop. Her response: “you tell me not to care what people think, so I don’t. Let’s go!” She would rather spend a day with her cousin Elena than go to a friend’s party. She is loyal to family, and chooses time with them over anything else. She’s non- judgmental and gets along with most everyone no matter if they are a star athlete or grunge. The other day I rolled my eyes at a lady wearing spiked heel and a crop top in the library. Maria counseled me: “you don’t know where she’s from or what she’s like so don’t judge her, mom.”

I imagined having a daughter would be exciting – getting to raise a female to conquer the world! I would teach her how to play softball, read books about strong women, take her to inspiring events. And it has been all that and more so far. But what I didn’t realize was how much Ri would influence me. I recall reading one of Shirley MacLaine’s books before I even contemplated kids. She talked about her daughter and believed that her daughter was her mother in a past life (love Shirley and her belief in reincarnation). I often think the same about Ri. How many times has Ri corrected me or reminded me of how to act?! I cuss and she gives me the glare. I’m inpatient and sighing, she tells me to calm down. 

She makes me consider what is important in life. She gets me thinking about new experiences. She pushes me to try new foods and relax for her homemade facial. She makes me jump off the inflatable when I’m scared to death. She sprays me with the hose while I’m in my work clothes and has me laughing about it minutes later. She has me question why I feel I have to wash the floor when I could be playing Yahtzee instead. 

She quashes my ego; it’s no longer about me, me, me but about her, her, her forging a life that is spontaneous, joyful, genuine, and open-minded.  It is such a gift to watch her grow up. Happy 12th Ri!  I am eternally grateful you are my daughter.



 

The Last Unicorn

I can’t believe I bore two thespians. I couldn’t even fake spit for one scene in a 6th grade Nativity scene. Jon and I have played on many a sports field but never on a stage. I was in awe when they auditioned for small roles in Scrooge last November. They each got a role with a few lines throughout the play. I could manage that commitment. Then they auditioned for a kids-only play in March called The Last Unicorn. I had never heard of it although it was a tv show in the hey days of my youth – the 80’s. Ri and Mario had never heard of it either. 

They were like pros at the audition having just auditioned several months earlier. They felt even more emboldened because there were a lot of kids auditioning who had never acted in a play before.  We got a call later in the week from the director informing us of the kids’ roles. Maria got a lead as Molly Grue, the scurrilous maid. Mario got three roles as farmer, Culley and the Skull. I hung up with the director and informed the kids of the roles. Mario was excited because he got three different parts. He didn’t care how many lines were in each part; he was just excited that he got three different characters. Maria was upset because she didn’t get the role of unicorn and she only got one role. I told her it was a lead but she remained skeptical. 

She wasn’t skeptical after the first practice when they got their scripts. She was in most of the play and had paragraphs upon paragraphs of lines to memorize. What had we agreed to?! Both of them had substantially more lines than they had in the Christmas play.  I was both excited and extremely nervous for them. It can be hard as a mom to strike the right balance of wanting to instill responsibility and autonomy in your kids but also wanting to ensure that they are doing what is expected of them. There were many a night when they chose to watch a TV show rather than work on their lines. When I called them out on it, they would typically look at me and say “mom, it’s fine, we are good.” I gave them a night or two to respond with that answer, but then I would crack the whip and require some rehearsing. I felt for the other kids who were relying on M and M to know their lines, and I wanted them to do well in their first major play. They would rehearse once with me and then complain that they were tired and wanted to rest.

And sure enough, on the Monday before the weekend of the show, they went to their first dress rehearsal and had trouble remembering quite a few lines. I worried about how they were going to memorize the rest of their lines by Friday’s performance. That was it – no more balance! We came home and I forced them to rehearse their lines with me every chance they got. And sure enough, by Wednesday night’s dress rehearsal, they had pretty much memorized them all. Mario was still having trouble with his Skull lines, however, and was called out by the director for not knowing them. He made it very clear that he expected Mario to know them for the dry run on Thursday. Mario jumped in the car sulking and anxious the entire way home. I stayed up with him until 11 PM that night working on his lines. We got up the next morning and worked some more. I then came home early from work on Thursday and we rehearsed one more time before heading to the theatre.

It paid off. Mario nailed his Skull scene, and was so pumped. Thank goodness. I knew that he would be ok for the actual shows because he proved to himself that he could memorize and execute on his lines. Maria on the other hand, cranked out all of her lines by Thursday night and did not seem to have much of a problem at all. When she did forget a line or two, she improvised. 

We arrived home on Thursday evening at 10:30 PM. We had gotten home after 10 PM every night that week and were all exhausted. The kids were at once extremely charged to perform, and also extremely fatigued from nonstop practices as well as end of school activities. 

They had a full house on Friday night. A few of their friends came to watch them, which made their night. They both nailed all of their lines and were so impressive. One little girl approached Maria after the show and asked to get her picture with her. How precious. I worked backstage on Friday night, and was as nervous as can be. For two reasons, I’ve have never worked a show before and I wanted to see Maria and Mario do well. I had some good stagehands  who had gone through the process in the past so they barked out orders to me and I followed. The kids did not need me at all but every once in a while Mario would walk up to me and put his arms around me to watch the play for a few minutes from behind the curtain. 


Meg and dad came on Saturday night. They had another full house to watch them. Saturday nights are always the best night because you tend to get the rowdy crew who likes to clap and laugh hard. The kids got more into their characters on Saturday night, too. Maria was more animated in her speech, and Mario tried to make people laugh with all his gestures. I stayed behind stage again on Saturday night and was a little bit more comfortable with my tasks. Maria was starving that night; luckily I had brought peanut butter pretzels and a few other snacks. She gulped down a handful of pretzels and looked at me in distress. 

“i’m still so hungry, mom. I can’t think about my lines because I’m so hungry.”

I froze. Oh my gosh, What if she worked this hard and now gets out there and forgets for lines because she’s starving to death? I gave her two more handfuls of pretzels and told her that she could get through it and we would have a huge Dairy Queen blizzard afterwards. She walked away to get to her place for the next scene. About 10 minutes later, I walked over to her to see how she was holding up. She turned around and gave me a big hug and told me she was fine. As I walked away, she added “I love you, mom.” Melt. 

A few minutes later I was behind the stage trying to find a sword for one of the actors. Mario was nervous about going out as Skull. I told him he was going to do great. He wrapped his arms around me and held onto me for a minute while staring at the wall. I didn’t make a move but rather breathed in the moment. Here were both of my kids conquering their fears and going out on stage to entertain people. I was so incredibly proud – and in awe – of the both of them.

They rocked out Saturday night. They had an even better time performing due to the involvement of the audience. 

We hit the DQ afterwards, and Maria and her friend spent the night at our house while Mario and his friend spent the night at his friend’s house. It was probably not the best idea in hindsight since we had one last performance on Sunday afternoon but after all the practicing, the parents felt like it was well-deserved and well, why not?

Sunday’s performance came way too quick; the kids looked exhausted. My mom and Patty came up for this performance, which had a pretty packed house as well. The kids recited all their lines perfectly and added even more spunk to their performances for the final show. Mario had everyone laughing with his gestures and with his animated movements. Maria had everybody feeling for her character with the intensity of her acting. She also had Jon and I cracking up with her fairly routine yawning while standing on stage. There were quite a few scenes where she just had to stand and listen to other actors. We would catch her sporting a huge yawn followed by a tiny one. At one point, she had to say a line and she was in the middle of a yawn. She was somehow able to make it look natural. A true actor, she is!


We stuck around after the show to clean up for a couple of hours, and then ended the night with some Greater’s ice cream along with others in the cast. I am thankful that the experience allowed them to meet other kids outside of Grandview. They also got to act again with a few of the 20-something actors that were in the Christmas show. They look up to them, and Mario is fascinated with one of the male actors who is just as silly and physical as he is. 


I received quite a few compliments on how well the kids acted. One of Mario’s friends told his mom that Mario made him want to try out acting because Mario looked like he was having so much fun. At the last show, one of the actors who had a daughter in the play approached me about Maria. She told me how much she appreciated Maria taking her daughter under her wing during the show. Her daughter tends to be very shy and a little backwards around people, but Maria continued to engage with her through each play and she eventually opened up with Maria. She just could not say enough about what a huge heart Maria had and how impressed she was with her.

Recently, my colleague and I were talking about all things motherhood. At the end of the conversation, she said “you have two great kids.” It’s a remark I take for granted like hearing “your hair looks good today.”  I worry myself sick some days about whether I’m doing enough with these kids, teaching them enough, exposing them to enough. I’ve got to get better at giving myself some praise as well; patting myself on the back and confirming that I’m doing an alright job. The kids are happy; they are active and healthy; they open up their minds to different activities; they love with all their selves. Heck, they just finished a fricken play where they had to act on stage in front of strangers. I would have never done that at their ages. 

Now, if I could just get them to routinely clean their rooms….