Midsummer night’s dream
Last night I went to my son Brendan’s grade 7 production of Midsummer Night’s Dream. I was really nervous, weirdly enough – I had had a rough day, and I was worried that I would be embarrassingly emotional in front of his friends, but I did ok!!
It was the typical grade 7 awkwardness that you would expect while quoting Shakespeare. You know, the kid with a crown on his head speeding through his lines at monotone, just trying to get through it all. The plot lines that are difficult to follow because you can’t really hear what they are saying, between the mumbling, the giggling, and the unenthusiastic role play. The two or three kids who actually were really good, and you just know will grow up to flourish in the spotlight, simply because of who they are. The cool kids who are more worried about their hair than the story themselves. I enjoyed every minute of it!! I’m not sure how the story actually panned out, mind you, if Brendan actually got his girl or not….
It was a little microcosm of life. There was the classic love story with deception and confusion and miscommunication. Then there was a play within the play, but it was kind of hard to understand exactly what what going on because there were two actors playing the same part, and dreamland fairies that kept changing the plot. It would be nice in real life if we had a prompter to tell us our lines when we forget them. Especially when the plot gets too twisted to makes sense of it.
I had spent the day worried that I would possibly miss out on one of those “big moments” that so many parents take for granted. I had a day where someone had disappointed me, a visit that hadn’t panned out and I was hurt by it. Because of something trivial and small, I was unable to get the rest I felt I needed to be able to function properly for the day – which led to all kinds of anxieties about an emotional scene at my son’s big Broadway debut, about being the only bald person in the room, about seeing people I hadn’t seen yet since my diagnosis, about putting an unnecessary spotlight on Brendan as the kid with the mom who is a walking cancer cell. But then a good friend met me at the door and sat with me, told me I was beautiful and laughed through the whole thing with me. It was a perfect evening. Other than the person who sat behind me and coughed all over me and reminded me that there are much bigger dangers out there than being the only bald person in the room.
Jeff and I are determined not to let this cancer diagnosis take over our kids’ lives. I do not want them to miss out on any opportunities because I am sick. That’s been first and foremost for me since I was first diagnosed. We have had to revamp and rejig a lot of plans, make some creative financial arrangements, postpone several dreams, and abandon some along the way, but it’s teaching us that maybe our timing wasn’t the best after all. This summer, my boys are going to learn to have fun no matter what plans go awry – something I’m not always very good at doing.
Yesterday I realized that I don’t have to let this crappy situation take opportunities for fun away from me either. I don’t have to miss out on my kids’ lives because I’m insecure about how I look, or how I feel, or what someone else thinks. I was too weak to stir the muffin batter, but I made them anyway. I was too tired to go to the play, but I went anyway. There’s a country song in there somewhere. Martina McBride. Look it up.
And go get a mammogram.