FAIL…First Attempt In Learning

Failing to Fail…

Why are we so determined to make sure our little darlings never know what it’s like to fail?

Why do we expect everyone to be a high flying “success” at everything?

When did failing at something become so terrible?

I grew up failing. I failed plenty. I failed often.

I’m still failing.And yet, each and every one of those failings was, and is, a learning.

Sometimes, no matter how many times I try and try and try at something, I fail.

Maybe I’m not meant to do it.
Maybe I’m not good enough at it.
Maybe, it’s not within my skill-set.
Maybe, someone else is better than me…

If it’s not happening, I have two choices; I can keep going until I (maybe) do succeed.

Or I can be proud that I tried but move on to another project, accepting that it’s just not going to happen.

But either way, I’ve learned something.

I’ve either learned the right or successful way to do something, or I’ve learned something about ME; about my abilities and my limitations.

Because, it’s OK to have limitations.And shock horror, it’s OK to know what YOUR Limitations are.

It’s actually quite liberating.

If children don’t run, they won’t fall… so how will they learn NOT to?

There is a massive problem in our society and it’s not just with our children.

There is and has been for many years, a mistaken perception that we should teach our children that they “can do anything”; that they “can be anything”; that they can not lose or fail at anything.

That failure is NOT an option.Well actually it is.

And I’d go so far as to say that failure is necessary.

The fear of failure is everywhere.

None of us want our children to experience rejection or failure.

It’s evident at the school sports days, where we make them “race” and “compete” but then give them ALL a certificate or medal.

We see it in dance classes or drama groups, where they audition but ALL get onstage anyway.

We see it at football training, or where the only options are “win” or “a tie”, so that no one has to lose.

Of course, equality and inclusion are inherently important in schools and clubs. And most of these societies and organisations have individualized and tailored policies and programes in place to include everyone.

And so they should.

Inclusion is not what I am talking about here.🥰

But when in general, we are not rewarding the “winners” for fear of upsetting the person in 2nd place, or indeed 24th place, what we are creating is a generation who feel entitled.

We need to stop telling our kids that they can be “anything they want to be”.

We should be encouraging our children to try and try.

We should be telling them they can be what they want to be… IF they have that ability and are willing to work for it.

What is wrong with encouraging them to learn what their strengths and passions are?

What is wrong with encouraging them to try and to work to earn and to deserve the end goal, may that be a degree in medicine or a place on the football team?

What is wrong with our children knowing what they are good at and recognising what they are not so good at?

How are they supposed to work towards improving and learning if they simply think they are entitled to an ‘A’ in an exam, or to the place on the team, or to a certain job because they’ve always been told they can be anything or do anything they want to do?

We do not all have the same skills.

We do not all have the same strengths.

I can teach Shakespeare to a brick, but I couldn’t be a math teacher for all the tea in China, no matter HOW much I worked for it.

And I wouldn’t be able to be a Doctor or surgeon, because I am way too emotional for such a job (and I’m probably, actually, certainly not that academically able!)

Does that mean I am a failure?

Eh no.

Every Irish dancing feis I didn’t win, was a lesson. It spurned me on. Every time I saw that a certain ‘Leah’ or ‘Clare’ was there, I knew that I most likely hadn’t a chance of anything higher than 3rd place.

Did that mean I couldn’t dance?NO. I could dance. Still can. 😂

It just meant that those girls were better than me.

They trained harder. They had more talent. They deserved every medal and cup they won. They inspired me to push harder.Sometimes I won, sometimes I didn’t.

It’s called life.

When I tried gymnastics, the day that I gave myself a black eye with my own knee was the day that I decided I was done.

Funnily enough Mum agreed.

Did I fail? No. I was just shite at gymnastics!

When I got average results in my Junior and Leaving Cert, did I feel like a failure?

No. I got what I deserved and I got out what I put in. I had done my best. And as long as I did my best, that was enough for my parents and it was enough for me.

However, when I have won, or achieved or succeeded, it was celebrated.

Because each time, I bust myself and tried and grafted and worked and any other synonym you can imagine.

And if I do succeed, I am proud of it, because the achievement is mine and I have probably failed ten times before managing it.

If you burn the omelette and don’t try to make it again, how do you eat?Every failed friendship I have, (and there are many), while heartbreaking to deal with, have all been for the best.

Every failed romance (yup many of those too😂!) teaches us something else important about ourselves and the person who is not right for us.

Every failed job or project or application or interview teaches us something.

For me, every time I auditioned, and was rejected, for a part in a show, broke my heart a little.

Of course it did (and does). Let’s be honest, if I didn’t want the part, why would I go for it?

But rather than stomp my foot and think myself too good to return, I pulled up my big girl knickers and still joined the group; may it be to a smaller role or into the chorus.

Because I love it.
I don’t have to be the leading lady to have fun.

And our children need to understand that they don’t have to always win to be winners.

That they don’t always have to score the goals to be important to the team.
That even though they are doing their best, sometimes the person beside them is just a little bit better.

And sometimes, THEY will be that person and someone else will lose to them.

When we started to walk, we all fell…And then we learned how NOT to fall.

And eventually we walked, all by ourselves. (And sometimes, we still fall!) If we keep carrying our kids and our young people over every obstacle, how can we expect them to learn how NOT to fall?

Direct them, encourage them, support them.

But let them feel disappointment sometimes. Let them learn to accept the success of others.

And when they DO succeed, celebrate with them.We have to sometimes fail to really appreciate succeeding. We’re not entitled to anything.

We have to work and try and earn things.

Life will not simply give you things because you think you deserve them.

You get out what you put in.

And while we don’t want our kids to repeat our mistakes, we have to let them make their own, so that they walk by themselves.

Who knows? They might even fly…

Mammy

Being Mammy, Still Me – It’s Showtime!

“Where do you find the time?”

“How can you be bothered?”

“It can’t be worth that much work?”

Evita

Musicals.

I’ve been on stage my whole life, first as an Irish Dancer and for the past 15 years, as a member of Letterkenny Musical Society.

This year, we’re doing Andrew Lloyd Webber and Time Rice’s masterpiece, EVITA.

Every September, we meet to begin our winter of rehearsals and of fun.  It begins as once a week, and by February each year, it’s 2 to 3 nights a week and Sundays.  At the minute, I’m eat, sleeping and breathing Evita.  I feel like Eva Peron has become my best friend… I’m living and breathing her.

Eva2

The Incredibly Talented Caitríona Solan as Evita

I’m having ideas at 3am that are sending our Producer into tailspins.  I’m dreaming that Elvis sings Magaldi’s songs and that the Wicked Witch arrives in the funeral scene.  Last night, there was a Bull in the wings as the curtain was going up… and it wasn’t me.

My kids are singing the songs; they know every single word, some of which terrifies me as there are a few choice words in some of the songs.  They have sat behind me during rehearsals and Mini-Me could probably step in to any of the roles by now.

My head is spinning.

I don’t KNOW how I find the time, but I do. I always have and I hope I always will.

In fairness, I rehearse when the girls are in bed. They’re tucked up dreaming and are well looked after by Daddy or Granny. They don’t miss me one bit.   The Sundays are hard but it’s only for such a short time.  The LMS gets me through the winter. It’s my other family.  It keeps me out of trouble.

Yes it’s a lot of work. Yes, it’s busy.  Yes it’s a lot on top of being a Mammy AND working a job-job AND trying to write… But it’s worth it.

Every member has a busy life.  We all have day jobs.  We all have families.  We all have commitments.  We all get stressed and tired coming up to the show, but then?  Get-in day arrives and the curtain gets ready  to rise, and we remember WHY we do it.

Today, as you read this,  the side door to the stage is rolled up, sunlight flooding the stage.(I hope!)   Lighting rigs are hoisted at head height while the crew work on them. Dust is floating around us, like little magic theatre fairies getting ready for some celebration.

The production team are creating the world for the characters to inhabit.  This year, they’re building a full sized Casa Rosada and we are taking you all to Argentina.  It’s a scaffolded wonder and I’m so exited for the cast to join us in a few hours to step into the world that our producer has created for them.

I’ll arrive in the middle of it at around 1pm and walk onto the stage. I’ll close my eyes.  The familiar voices of Hubby and the usual suspects calling instructions to each other, co-operating and working together will make 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 will be beautiful.

I’ll open my eyes and look 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 canvas will be transformed into a completely believable world into which our amazing cast will step.

 

image

And then I’ll do what I do and get together with my colleagues to get our heads around the problems and challenges that only a production team can face, and by the time our cast arrive, we’ll be ready.

So how do I have the time?  How can I be bothered?  Is it worth it?

Yes.  Because this is ME.

Yes, I have children.

My girls 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 love how pretending to be someone else can bring me to emotions that I’ve never experienced.  I love to entertain.  I love to make people laugh. I love that I can make people cry…

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 even though this year, I am standing in the wings watching the cast on stage, I am proud and excited that they are bringing my version of Evita to life.

And so, standing here today,  I won’t feel guilty.

Yes, it’ll be a week of rushing and balancing, but my girls are quite safe and well looked after (the dog is so responsible!), and they know that show week is important to Mammy and to Daddy.

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 work backstage with their Daddy.
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 am I?

I might Be Mammy, but I can still Be Me.

MadamD

 

Evita opens on Tuesday 26th and runs until Saturday 30th March. 

Tickets for Friday and Saturday are almost sold out, so if you fancy being swept away by a super cast, a beautiful script and incredible music, get your tickets here.

Buy tickets here

I am Stage Mum

“Where do you find the time?”

“How can you be bothered?”

“It can’t be worth that much work?”

Musicals.

I’ve been on stage my whole life, first as an Irish Dancer and for the past 14 years, as a member of Letterkenny Musical Society.  This year, we’re doing Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5 The Musical.

9to5

The ultimate Girl Power Show!

Every September, we meet to begin our winter of rehearsals and of fun.  It begins as once a week, and by February each year, it’s 2 to 3 nights a week and Sundays.  At the minute, I’m eat, sleeping and breathing 9 to 5.  I’m having ideas at 3am that are sending our Producer into tailspins.  I’m dreaming about walking on stage with no bra on.  Last night, there was a Bull in the wings as the curtain was going up… and it wasn’t me.  My kids are singing the songs and my head is spinning.

I don’t KNOW how I find the time, but I do. In fairness, I rehearse when the girls are in bed. The Sundays are hard but it’s only for such as short time.  The LMS gets me through the winter. It’s a family.  It keeps me out of trouble.

Yes it’s a lot of work. Yes, it’s busy.  Yes it’s a lot on top of being a Mammy AND working 9 to 5… But it’s worth it.  Every member has a busy life.  We all have day jobs.  We all have families.  We all have commitments.  We all get stressed and tired coming up to the show, but then?  Get-in day arrives and the curtain gets ready  to rise, and we remember WHY we do it.

dolly1

Next Sunday, the side door to the stage is rolled up, sunlight flooding the stage.  Lighting rigs are hoisted at head height while the crew work on them.  The production team are creating the world for the characters to inhabit. This year it’s an office in America in the late 70s.
I’ll arrive in the middle of it at around 3pm and walk onto the stage. I’ll close my eyes.  The familiar voices of Hubby and the usual suspects calling instructions to each other, co-operating and working together will make 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 will be beautiful.

I’ll open my eyes and look 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 canvas will be transformed into a completely believable world into which our amazing cast will step.

 

image

And then I’ll do what I do and get together with my colleagues to get our heads around the problems and challenges that only a production team can face, and by the time our cast arrive, we’ll be ready.

So how do I have the time?  How can I be bothered?  Is it worth it?

Yes.  Because this is ME.  Yes, I have children.
My girls 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 love how pretending to be someone else can bring me to emotions that I’ve never experienced.  I love to entertain.  I love to make people laugh. I love that I can make people cry…
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 next Sunday,  I won’t feel guilty.

Yes, it’ll be a week of rushing and balancing, but my girls are quite safe and well looked after (the dog is so responsible!), and they know that show week is important to Mammy and to Daddy.

Roz

I’m playing Roz!

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 work backstage with their Daddy.
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 am I?

I am after all, Still Stage Mum.

9to5poster

9 to 5 opens on Tuesday 27th and runs until Saturday 3rd March. 

Tickets for Friday and Saturday are almost sold out, so if you fancy being swept away by a super cast, a hilarious script and beautiful music, get your tickets soon.

Buy tickets here