The house is eerily quiet. Owen is at his grandmother’s house for a couple of days. We are eating dinner in the living room, drinking wine and shaun is watching soccer on the Spanish channel. Not an untypical evening for us, minus the wine and I try to eat dinner at the table most nights. There is no little boy running circles around the couch, pulling the cat’s tail or throwing a fit until he gets ice cream. Me and Shaun have plans to play a game and go to a movie after dinner……..that is definitely an abnormality. It is weird to think that this used to be normal. There are conviences of course, for example I haven’t had to look at milk, cartoons, or diapers in 24 hours. I didn’t have to re-read the same book 5 times. I went somewhere for lunch that doesn’t have a kids menu. I wandered around B&N for an hour uninterrupted. I slept until an astonishing 9:15 this morning…..but tonight there will be no one to tickle or tuck in or read stories to. It is a very uneven trade.
I do the math on my hand. This is my 5th end of the year dance recital and you think by now I’d know to remember to pack hair spray and snacks. Someone hands my daughter a bag of chips and I want to hug her. I want to tell her that I am not a total failure, that we did not lose the wristbands, we wore the right color tights and that I do at least have a few bobby pins in my pocket. I can not handle the crazy that is backstage. It is a whirlwind of squealing girls in sequins, lycra and tulle. Moms wielding curling hours and more eye makeup than the entire MAC counter, I start to sweat in my ponytail. I quickly look away as an entire row of dancers peel off EVERYTHING for a quick costume change. I was not made for this. I unashamedly let an eight-year-old I have never met teach me how to get my daughter’s hair in place and I make the fastest exit I can. We sit in the balcony. Where we have been for hours. Dance recital day is all consuming. Rehersal, hair and finding the right ti...
Comments