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I am Still Stage Mum

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The talented folk of the Letterkenny Musical Society take to the stage tonight for the opening night of  their production of Jesus Christ, Superstar.
I watched the dress rehearsal last night.  It’s stunning and apart from the Saturday matinee, is sold out.
Rightly so.
It’s utterly spectacular.

I’m not involved this year.
That makes me sad.

Obviously,  I have my hands pretty full with Mini Me and Princess, so the show this year was really not an option for me.
I hadn’t really missed it to be honest…until Sunday.

Hubby was in the theatre helping to build the set as usual.
I took the kids in to see what was happening and to say hi to everyone.

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It was the most beautiful, sunny and crisp February Sunday.  The side door to the stage was rolled up, sunlight flooding the stage.  Lighting rigs were hoisted at head height while the crew worked on them.  The production team were creating what would be huge columns for the set.
I stood in the middle of it and closed my eyes.  The familiar voices of Hubby and the usual suspects calling instructions to each other, co-operating and working together, made me smile.  The sounds of the cordless drill…the smell of fresh wood and sawdust…the muffled conversation of the sound guys from the auditorium… it was beautiful.

I opened my eyes and looked at the chaotic scene in front of me, wondering (not for the first time in my theatre life), at how within just a few hours, this chaotic canvass would be transformed into a completely believable world into which the cast would step.
“Do you miss us?”  My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of our Producer.   And for the first time, I answered that question without having to think about it or feel guilty for admitting it.
“Soooooo much.”

I’ve been asked this asked few times in conversations over the past few weeks.  As the publicity for their show caused conversations to turn to it more and more, I’ve heard “Are you involved this year?” or “Do you miss it?”   My automatic answer?  “Not at all, sure I dont have time to miss it!” (Cue careless laugh!)

More often than not however, the question has been more of a statement.  “Obviously you’re not involved this year.” or “I’m sure you don’t miss it, sure you have more important things to think about.”
One friend, meaning well when I admitted that I was missing the build-up to the show, went as far as “But sure look at what you have there.  That’s much more important than a show.”

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He pointed at my 3 month old Princess who was sleeping in my arms while I ate lunch (with one hand as usual!)
And of course he was right.
She and her sister are the most important thing in my world.
They are my show.
They are my production.
They are the choreographed chaos of which I’m most proud, and I’ll direct them through life with the same dedication and love that I put into the shows.

But they are also only a part of me.
Yes, I am their mummy, but I’m still me.
I’m still the drama queen that lives for the stage.
I still love the theatre.
I still get goosebumps when I hear someone hitting that note.
I still get so carried away watching my closest friends on stage, that I cry because I absolutely believe the pain they are conveying.

And so, standing there on Sunday,  I didn’t feel guilty admitting that I miss it.
I didn’t feel guilty last night at the dress rehearsal when I admitted that I’m heartbroken that my friends and Hubby are going to have the best week of their year, without me.
And I won’t feel guilty getting involved again next year.

My girls will grow up in rehearsals for shows.
They’ll see the stress and work and time and effort that goes into this “hobby”.
They’ll learn confidence, respect, organisation skills.
They’ll experience the fruits of the long months of hard work, and they’ll learn that if you want something to happen, you must work to make it happen.
They might even perform on stage with me at some point.
Maybe they’ll hate it all.  That’s OK too.

But if I can’t continue up to be who I’ve always been, just because I’ve been blessed with two little darlings, I’m not doing anyone any favours.

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So this week, I’ll pull up my big girl pants and enjoy watching the people I love so much enjoying their success.
I’ll  cheer them on and encourage them to believe that they are indeed fabulous.
On Saturday night,  I’ll sit in the audience and I’ll clap and cheer and celebrate their achievements.
Because they are Superstars.

And whether I’m on the stage, or in the audience,
I AM Still Stage Mum.

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I am Smile-and-Nod Mum!

Posted in children, family, parenting, swear words, toddlers, Uncategorized by

People generally dislike swear words.  There’s an unwritten rule that some swear words are worse than others.

The B-words are widely tolerated.  The F-word…not so much.  The C-word? Don’t even go there! Some words are acceptable.   Some are simply not.

It’s like childbirth.  It’s okay to say certain things to a new Mamma. And there are some things you SHOULD NEVER SAY…and yet people usually do.

On the other side of things, there are responses that new mammas would love to say out loud (usually with some of the aforementioned expletives carefully inserted!)…and yet they usually don’t.

So here are just a few such things that I’ve heard recently… to which mostly, my response was to politely smile/laugh/nod.  But what I was really thinking usually contained expletives. Shock Horror!

  1.  “Oh you had a section?” (Usually accompanied by an expression of either sympathy or disapproval.)        Yes. I had a section.  It’s the most fun thing in the world ever! (*Sarcasm… see previous post “I am Section Mum.”
  2. “How’s your scar healing?”    Fabulously thank you.  How’s your vagina doing?
  3. “Sure the second section is much easier than the first.”                 Is it really? My body obviously didn’t get that particular memo.
  4. “You shouldn’t be up and about so quickly.”    OK.   You’re so right.  I’ll tell the toddler look after herself. What am I thinking!?
  5. “Oh? You’re not breastfeeding?”  (There’s that look again.  Its becoming quite frequent.)           No.  I’ve made a decision to not give my baby the best start in life.  I’m a selfish failure and I deserve your disapproval and judgement.  Thanks for that.
  6. “You’re not going back to the gym already surely? Sure there’s nothing wrong with you!” (Yep…there’s that look again!)         Yes.  I am, because I enjoy training and I want to. It’s as simple as that.  Last week I actually replied “God yes. I need to lose at least 4 stone.”  That’s an exaggeration, but it was worth it to see the look of disapproval morph into one of utter disgust.
  7. “OMG! I didn’t expect to see you out so soon! You’re some Doll!” (Expression of disapproval added to at sight of very large glass of wine in my hand.)          I’m so sorry if my decision to venture away from my baby for a few hours makes you uncomfortable. It actually took a lot of nerve, encouragement from Hubby and support of my friends to get here tonight… but all you see is the wine.
  8. “Where’s the baby tonight?”   At home with the Dog of course…where else?
  9. You’re OK leaving the baby with her Daddy? (Yup…cue that expression again!)  Erm… is this a trick question? YES!!! He is afterall, her Daddy? He did make half of her and he’s just as entitled to (Shock Horror!) look after her all by himself as I am!
  10. “Is Daddy babysitting?”  Noooooooo…. Daddy is looking after his daughters while Mammy does the shopping/has a coffee/pops to town for an hour. He is not hired or paid by the hour.  I do not feel the need to leave snacks on the coffee table or to go through her routine before I leave.  He’s as (Shock Horror!) able to care for her as I am.

I could go on.

Yes, most of these things were said with the greatest of good intentions, but still.  They were said…in some cases by numerous people.

I’m sure I could add more.  I’m sure many of you could add your own.  It’s a terrible thing to be judged, (intentionally or not), especially by other mummies, but the easiest thing to do is to smile and nod and remember that you can say as many swear words in your head as you like, and no one can judge you for that!

I am Smile-and-Nod Mum.

 

 

I am Six-weeks-and-snuffly Mum

Posted in parenting, Uncategorized by

I’ve just realised that a six week old with a head cold is possibly one of the worst feelings in the world… for both baby and parent.

With Mini-Me into her third round with the nasty viral flu that’s been plaguing Donegal’s homes for the past few months, it was inevitable that Princess would pick up some version of it.  She’s been threatening us with the odd sneeze and little cough for a few days, but this morning, she woke up as a Snufflupogus, with weeping eyes and all.

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And it’s horrible.

My friend has always been unable to tolerate snoots up noses.  She’s the kind of person who will squeeze a blackhead, even if it’s on someone else’s nose!  She picks at her kids constantly; they never have a snoot stuck in a nostril or a piece of sleep in their eyes. She’s even quite happy to pick at other people’s kids.  I kid you not.
And for years, I have teased her about it.

But tonight, I am very tempted to ring her to ask what type of snotter busting device she’d recommend for the detraction of those bad boys hidden deepest in the nostril.  I’d happily drive an hour to the nearest 24 hour store to source the clever contraption than sucks up the snot.  But I seriously doubt that a simple fix exists that can be used on a perfect little six week old snout.

And so we just have to perservere with cuddles and tissues.  Every sneeze brings with it another gloopy lump of gunk and a few minutes of ease for Snufflepants.  She’s currently cuddled up of top of Daddy, making all sorts of grumbly, snottery grunts.  She sounds like Miss Piggy.

And in fairness, I think it’s upsetting him more than it’s bothering her.

Mini Me is also dosed, but at least she can tell us how she’s feeling and understands that she’ll get better.  We can give her medicine to ease the discomfort, and most importantly, when we hold a tissue to her snottery nostrils, she now blows through her nose rather than through her mouth!

So it’s not quite as dramatic as the tiny one’s sniffles.  And really, that ‘s not even that dramatic, because realistically, she has a good old fashioned head-cold.  It’s minor in the larger scheme of things.  She’ll be fine.   But that doesn’t mean that Mammy and Daddy don’t grimace every time she sneezes.  We want to pull all of the offending gunk out of her little sinuses so that she can breathe easily again.  We’d both swap places with her in a heart beat.  Because that’s what parents do.

Things might be snottery and sticky, but they could always be worse.

Now, I must go text my friend to see if she’ll come for tea tomorrow.  You never know what snot busting tricks she’ll be able to show me!!

I am Six-weeks-and-snuffly Mum.

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I am Suddenly Reminded Mum

Posted in children, Uncategorized by

Sometimes we need reminded that our Little Ones are indeed only little.

When Princess was born a few weeks ago, Mini Me seemed to grow up overnight.  She suddenly got taller and turned from a toddler into a little girl.  I’ve been watching her in awe since I returned home from hospital.  I’m not quite sure how it happened, but she is quite the little independent woman.

Having a newborn on my knee, I find myself wondering how it’s possible that the most advanced species on the planet can give birth to the most helpless offspring.

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A baby calf gets up to walk within moments of being born, but our little pink and squishy babies remain completely dependent on us for years.  It’s quite amazing.  And still, the nicest feeling in the world is knowing that your baby needs nothing but you to survive.  The frightening thing is that without you, she can’t.

We give our babies everything that they need.  We help them to grow.  We don’t get a handbook.  We make it up as we go along and shockingly, we generally do a good job.  As I look at Mini-me in all her “almost fourness”, I am proud of how she’s developing.  She’s stroppy and strong-willed, but sweet and sensitive. She’s clever and funny and ever so dramatic. (Not sure where she gets the drama!) I have a little girl, who has a little curl etc.  She’s so grown up, and then she isn’t.

Because she understands every word we say and because she’s able to articulate her thoughts well, we’ve made the mistake of assuming that she fully understands the world around her.

She doesn’t.

As tall and “grown up” as she suddenly seems, on Sunday past I was Suddenly Reminded that she is still only a baby.  She doesn’t understand the things that we assume her to.  She’s finding her way through a terrifying world (aren’t we all?) and she still needs Mammy and Daddy to guide her in every step.

And the dramatic and sudden reminder?

We went to see Santa Claus.

Mini-Me and her new sister were dressed in their pretty Christmas dresses and we were all suitably excited.  It’s the first year that she is really enjoying the build up to Christmas and she was excited to bring the new baby to meet the Big Man.  We stood in the queue.  We met Santa.  They got their picture taken and she got a present.

And then, we all went for coffee.

As we were relaxing, the Big brother took the little horse set out of the box for her to play with.  We were chattering among ourselves, when suddenly she began to cry.  Asking her what was possibly wrong, she announced through her sobs “Santa didn’t listen.  I asked for baby Annabelle!” and the quiet sobs turned to a wail.

Well, we didn’t know what to do.  We looked at each other with disbelief and the sudden realisation that our big grown-up girl was genuinely upset.  And as I looked at her devastated little face, the baby returned in front of my eyes.  She was suddenly three again.  Not the “Big Sister” or the “Big girl” that we’ve been calling her since Baby arrived.

Just my Mini-me Threenager…and she was heartbroken.

She thought that that was it;  that Santa had been and that Christmas was over.  She didn’t understand that this was simply a pre-Christmas, traditional treat.

Why?

Because we never thought to explain it to her.

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While we had been talking about going to see Santa, she thought that this was the Santa who comes in the night and leaves presents.  She thought that this was it.  And as we were obliviously sipping our coffees, she was experiencing a massive first… true disappointment.

Daddy swiftly lifted her onto his knee for a hug and wiped the big tears dripping down her chubby cheeks.  We all leapt into action, laughing and calmly explaining that Santa had simply brought her a treat today and that it isn’t Christmas yet.  We went back to basics, explaining the whole concept of Christmas: about Baby Jesus coming, about her aunties and uncles coming home, about hanging up the stockings and about waking up on Christmas morning; any possible benchmarks that will help her to recognise actual Christmas.

We threw all the cliched lines at her.  “If you’re good, Santa will…”  “It’s Christmas time, but it’s not Christmas Day yet.”  “9 more sleeps…” etc.  And happily, she calmed down and returned to playing with the horses.

Crisis averted, but lesson learned.

People had warned us that when the new baby arrived, she would suddenly seem so big and so grown-up.  And they were right.

But what we had to learn for ourselves is that big and all as she seems, she’s still only a little child.  We may have begun to expect too much from her.  Yes, the baby is vulnerable and totally dependent on us, but just because Mini-Me can dress herself, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t also vulnerable and dependent.

And so, with both Mammy and Daddy feeling suitably guilty and slightly foolish, we finished our coffee and directed our wee family back through the craziness of the Christmas shoppers towards the car.

Mini-me had learned something, but the biggest lesson was learned by her Grown-ups.

I am Suddenly Reminded Mum.

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