Tonight we put on a major production. For the past few days The Girl has been writing a play. She wrote the story, laboriously made a study sheet for each of us with our respective lines bulleted, planned the costumes, made the props and crafted the setting. The Boy was the Marilyn Monroe of the group: at times luminescent, but at other times bringing the rehearsals to a frustrating halt with his demands and temperamental flare-ups. The Girl was a hard-working writer/producer/director -- she made concessions, made compromises, made creative adjustments. Finally, after a few successful run-throughs we were ready for The Dad to come home to become our audience. We donned our wigs; we delivered our lines. It was an unmitigated success.
The Sister was a star. She plastered on hideous makeup and screeched her lines in the perfect character-voice. She even had a good attitude about the practical joke that we played on her. When she wasn't home we wrote the bios in the program and we made up outlandish details for hers. She flies home tomorrow for a couple of weeks -- we will miss her.
The thing about plays is timing. There's two sides to consider. The obvious fact is that the timing has to be right. The success or failure of plays, of music, of jokes is whether or not the timing is right. The right gestation of the pregnant pause; the right quickness of the interruption to make it seem authentic.
The other nuance about timing is that sometimes it gets flubbed, but the circling back ad-libbing to make it right, to make it work, can be heroic. To make it through a performance pitch-perfect is fabulous, but to huddle backstage with high adrenaline patting each other on the back for an on-the-spot brilliant recovery is the stuff of legends. The Boy had such a moment tonight -- he forgot to ask his pet, Furman, how he was doing (the dramatic equivalent of forgetting to drop the chandelier in Phantom) before he shifted scenes. From the wings (actually from under the couch) The Girl was about to pop a vein about it. Judd the Red Chicken remembered in the middle of a different line, incorporated the information, and continued... What sweet satisfaction!
Of course the new year always brings with it a hyperawareness of time. Another year to reflect on. Where were we last year? Where was I 25 New Year's Eves ago? What have we learned? What will happen in this new year? What will we be doing/who will we be with next year? An anxious worrier at heart, I often consider the things that I was worried about that never came to pass... The unanticipated things that happened that I now know to worry about going forward...
Yesterday we helped manage one of The Boy's fears. He kind of has a thing about dams. He had a nightmare once and now dams top his list of things to worry about (whether nature or nurture anxious personalities seem to run in families). Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he remembered visiting New Croton Dam a couple of years ago and unexpectedly asked to return to it. And so we did. And he thought it was beautiful and said that while he was still afraid of most dams, he thought that maybe they weren't all terrible. He even ventured far enough to suggest that there might be a time when he won't be afraid of them at all. I was impressed with his ability to project -- to know that no matter how strong his feelings are right now, there is always a chance that time will change them... temper them.
We listened to a Mr. Roger's song in the car that made me think that if people (me) could truly believe in just the title there would be a lot more personal peace and awareness. It's called: "Sometimes Isn't Always." It's such a simple and deep way to consider the powerful impact of time. Don't despair -- time will change this moment. Don't take things for granted, for time will change this moment.
Today we pushed a bit more on the still tender, tentative attempts to understand the fear away. We looked up some videos on how dams are constructed, checked out some websites, and made our own dams out of sugar cubes. Of course when we flooded our dams the lesson wasn't so much whether or not the design/engineering was sound, but rather how fast sugar dissolves.
Earlier in the day we finally made our trek to Rockefeller to see the tree. We ran out of time before Christmas, or actually just didn't make the time.
While down there we passed the taping of the TODAY show, and what did my wondering eyes see, but that sweet-spot corner wide open. The magic corner that guarantees that you make it on TV. As you'll recall, after getting up at 5:30am on my grandma's birthday we barely squeaked on for the nano-ist of nanoseconds. It totally took the kids and The Sister by surprise when I saw that opening today and was like: "Get in there. Move!"
It was a commercial break and then the "One minute!" call, then the "20 seconds!" call and then it happened: the camera guy swept and got right to us and did a super long close-up of The Girl -- all of us -- but especially The Girl. The Sister was a bit irked ("I have a huge open wound on my face!"), and to be honest, I wasn't that keen on my appearance either, but by golly-golly it still felt like we won. This time we attacked it! This time we didn't even have to work for it and we got solid pay-off. Granted, there was nobody watching, so as far as I know nobody else knows that we conquered the TODAY show, yet somehow it seemed to be symbolic of all that we've accomplished in this first half of the scheme. No longer are we pathetic wimps who stand by the barricades for hours without acknowledgement -- NOW we are experts who walk right up and within three minutes get a close-up. Snap.
From there we stopped by Anthropologie and saw a cool fiber-arts display. Again, it felt like a sign from above that we have been using our time well, for the kids looked at it and immediately started to talk about their knowledge of felting...
Using our time wisely. Using time to our advantage. Acknowledging that time creates distance. It can soften things. For those wondering, during the break I did tell the children about Sandy Hook. I knew that the time would come when it felt like the right thing to do. I listened to wise counsel from friends. I had the opportunity to speak with my stepmother who is an Educational Psychologist. There had been some references made during talks at church and I wondered what the children had picked up on, and wanted to be sure that when they learned the actual details that it was from us. I thought that there would be more questions, and maybe more will come, but it was a simple, short, even sacred-feeling conversation. The only thing that I wish that I could change was when I unexpectedly became teary. I referenced Mr. Rogers's quote about looking for the helpers when something sad/bad happens, and I choked up.
A new year. A time for reflecting, for resolutions, for goals, for seizing the day and all that... In a couple of weeks I send in our second quarterly report signaling the half-way point of the scheme. Again, time is a two-edged sword -- it provides the space to become experts -- to know where to stand; to nail our performance. It also provides the opportunity to stand on an edge and look down, or back, and see how we can change/improvise... to collect what we still need to collect... add what needs to be added... fix what needs to be fixed -- and be triumphant.
