I LOVE the entertainment industry. I love musicians, movies, television, etc. but I'm not a typical 'star struck' person. I'm too empathetic maybe. I think, geez, they're just people, let them be so they can enjoy their dinner without getting their picture taken, signing autographs, or hear a 10 minute story about how their work has changed your Aunt's life. Apparently though, I need to be a little more star struck because every time I meet a celebrity, it goes wrong and if anything, I probably remind them why they do what they do in order NOT to be the ordinary Joe Schmo.
Some examples of my run-ins: I've hit Seth Green with my stroller, I've had Paul Meany come down from the stage with his microphone to sing a song with the crowd and get right next to me (like the Bruce Springsteen/Courtney Cox video) and I briefly forgot the words, I tried telling Thomas Mars a joke that ended up reversing and made me the butt of the joke, we all know how my run-in with Henry Winkler and Daniel Silva went, and alas my most recent with Anna Kournikova.
I was invited to a Championship Tennis Tournament of some of the great pro tennis players of old (Sampras, Chang, Courier, Philippousis, etc) which occurs each year in an effort to raise money for cancer centers. I get the VIP section due to my status of 'elected official' so I get to rub shoulders with some great people. I was thrilled with this tournament because I was excited to meet and schmooz with Pete Sampras, my date for the night but alas, he ended up with an injured soldier and had to back out destroying all the photo op's of him kissing my hand and cheeks I had planned for the evening.
The Mayor was making her rounds and had a crew with her, one of which was Anna, but unfortunately when my table full of high rollers asked who the blonde was, my response was, 'oh, that's the Mayor's daughter.' #$&!!*&$#
In my defense, she looked different in person, the Mayor does have a daughter and Anna looks like she could be hers.
They approach Jason and myself and so I'm being overly casual (because I have a great relationship with the Mayor) therefore to her and Anna I'm saying things like, 'Don't you feel like you're in a wedding line with all these pictures?? Plastic permanent smiles when all you want to do is take the gifts and run!!' I've been replaying that idiotic conversation in my head and go between cringing and chuckling. What a L-O-S-E-R!
Finally, we are formally introduced and so I do the only damage control I know how to do: pretend that I knew all along. She was very sweet, of course lovely, and an easy conversationalist. We talked tennis and life of being in our 30's, we both have health issues. By the end of the conversation, she's running her fingers through my hair. True story. I haven't washed it since. Ok, I waited a day.
Moral of the story, if you ever want to meet a celebrity and make a good impression, don't accompany me. I keep thinking of all those poor people at my table who didn't take the opportunity to meet and shake hands with Miss Kournikova because they're all like, 'eh, it's just the Mayor's daughter.'
Plain and simple-I'm the nag in the house. Sometimes I wish I could be Jason at times. When he is with the kids it's fun time, unless you count him reiterating what I've tried to say several times prior and am at my wits end. He really is supportive and would do anything I ask--but that's usually the point, I have to ask. He will step in because he knows when I'm frustrated and he interjects to try and save my last nerve of patience.
I know I'm not alone in this, right ladies?
Kids get home from school and everyday I'm a broken record:
Did you do your chores? All of them?
Can you not see the dog doesn't have water and the pets need to be fed to stay alive?
What time are you starting homework?
You need to read scriptures.
Did you get this other task completed that you've had on hold for a week?
Isn't it time you practiced piano?--no, playing music from bands you are emulating from youtube doesn't count!
How are these questions not programmed in their cerebral? How can they not anticipate these questions from me and just put them into practice without the nag having to do it? Is that what my role has come to? Why can't I just be the nice welcoming mom with warm baked cookies and hugs? Oh, that's right...I'd have to nag them to pick up their crumbs.
Seriously, from 3 p.m. to bedtime I am not a mother, I am a nag...every stinking day.
I remember when the kids were small and would run to me everyday when I'd pick them up from school. I was their hero, I could do no wrong. Now, I'm just the task master and their eyes avoid meeting mine out of fear for an added responsibility or a question that requires action. (**Gasp)
My heart rate is accelerating just writing this and this frustration led me to put February to the test. I took one thing away that I was going to 'gently remind' (a.k.a. 'nag') of. I picked piano. Both kids have been taking piano since they were 7. That's a lot of invested $$. I have had numerous talks with them in the past year that if they didn't want to do piano (because of getting up every 10 min of practice time to 'see how much time they had left') to let me know and we would stop lessons. It's not worth the money if there isn't progression-and there isn't progression without practice. They've assured me multiple times that they enjoy piano and didn't want to stop.
Without any piano promptings Nathan passed with flying colors, Brynna on the other hand didn't practice once. Now granted, she is extremely busy and I know it's a sacrifice to fit it in her overly filled plate. But she still managed to find time to play her guitar and sing, follow people on instagram, eat, etc. If it's important to you-whatever it is, you make time for it. This solidified my decision to pull the plug on piano for her.
Yesterday I had a conversation with Brynna and told her the news that today would be her last day of a piano lessons and that I had spoken with her teacher. She stood in silence. I knew she felt bad, I could see it on her face, but it wasn't bad enough for her to put up a fight.
This should have felt like a victory to me, due to all my feelings listed above. Instead, I went in my closet and bawled my eyes out. Yep, it was ugly. Snotty kleenix, uncontrollable intake of breath, massive hangover headache type of crying. All that came to my mind was memories of sitting on that piano bench with my little girl helping her or battling it out as she practiced. Ghosts of all the beautiful piano pieces filled my mind that once filled our home with music- that even after hearing them for 100 times-gave our home a special feeling that is irreplaceable. All of a sudden, in that moment, our home felt too quiet. I saw 8 years of built talent that will no longer be put to use on a daily basis, and thus will slowly wither away.
That 5 minutes of hell in my closet was one of the few times I wished to be a hypocrite. As parents, we said early on we would never force our kids in a sport or activity because WE wanted it. Our desire was always for the kids to have a choice. She made a choice and I didn't like it. Agency can be a real bear when it isn't going your way.
In reality, I know what the real issue is here and it's not necessarily about the piano. My daughter is growing up and will soon be moving on. I am overly excited to see what she will do with her life and for all the things she will accomplish. What I'm not excited about is when those accomplishments happen-it won't be under my roof. I'll hear about it via telephone or text, but rarely in person face to face. By knowing her piano music will stop was like a slow death to me. A piece of her has already left home. As I was composing myself I wondered, is this a blessing that we experience these small pieces of separation to prepare for that final one? Maybe you moms who have experienced this can help me. What's better? These small pieces of reality that remind you of what's to come (slow death) or having it all go in one painful moment (quick death)? All I know is both hurt and I don't know if I'm cut out for it or that I could ever be prepared or ready enough for that moment.
I think I'd rather be a nag.
