What this Mom learned from the theater

I just want to be the kind of mom who cooks for her kids delicious and nutritious foods; teaches them a healthy body image and respect for others; nourishes their minds, and encourages their physical abilities. A mom who does all kinds of really fun stuff everyday; makes rainy day crafts; goes to every kids ice show, circus, and dinosaur event in Pittsburgh and Cleveland.  I want to hand make birthday invitations, decorations and favor bags.  I want to give them every toy they could possibly want before they even want it, and dress them in cute coordinating fashionable outfits. I want to teach them the value of money, and also to love people and not things.  I want to teach them about God, and about loving their neighbors.  I want to teach them to give back to their community. I want them to learn to do things for themselves, but I never want them to struggle. In the mean time, I want to work within a tight budget, create a huge nest egg (Just in case), have a clean home, grow a garden, maintain my relationship with my fabulous husband, increase my relationship with Jesus, stay physically fit, and continue to stimulate my own brain. I want do fun stuff with my friends and family. All the while, it would be nice to cherish every moment. AND go to Disney at least once a year. I mean is that too much to ask for?

The answer is obviously yes, it is too much to ask for. I know this logically, and yet the desires are still there. How do I reconcile the fact that my desires are impossible, and often times completely contradictory to each other? Parents can make themselves crazy trying to be perfect.  We can torture ourselves over every detail. Things we did, things we should have done, things we were too tired to do.  "Did I yell when Andy tried to leave the library ALONE, or did I just use my stern voice?" "Why didn't I drop everything I was doing to fix Colin's Pirate pig attack game the forth time it broke?" "Why didn't I have a more balanced meal in mind for the boy's dinner?" "Did I handle that fit as effectively as possible to teach Andy not to throw toys and chairs without damaging his since of love and security?" And that was just Monday evening. It is enough to drive a person insane.

And yet, I am not insane.  I am thriving. I am having the best years of my life. So how do I explain this? (Aside from the simple fact that kids are an amazing blessing from God.) I think it is because I am Theater people. Theater people are a different breed.  Beyond that, I am a backstage superstar. Here is how it applies.

In theater, every show you begin (every script you read even) is full of grand ideas and huge expectations. You want it to be a work of art.  You want to tell the story in a clear and unique voice. You want to transport the audience to the setting of your design. You want the lines to be perfect. You want the scene changes flawless. You want the props to be authentic and well organized. No popping microphones; no missed light cues; no wardrobe malfunctions. You want your efforts to be met by thunderous applause as the audience burst from their seats with out a moments hesitation. You want them to not only enjoy the performance, but you want them to be moved; to be transformed. You want this magic to be repeated for every performance of the run of the show.  It is also nice if you can pack the house, start on time, and run a perfect intermission. Of course it is all about the art, but it would be best if you can make a ton of money too. These, like a mothers desires, are impossible. Knowing how impossible it is, does not change your continued effort to strive for that perfection. Every sub-par prop you create, every dropped line or missed cue, every empty seat is a small blow to your ego. However, you learn to understand in small 1-6 month increments (depending on your rehearsal period) it is important to have these hopes and dreams of perfection and beauty, but it is also okay to only achieve a small portion of them. They keep you striving for the best.  When you try so hard to be the best, even in the spots you fall short you are still amazing.

Awesome Halloween Float

There are a ton of practical skills I learned from theater which translate perfectly to parenting. To name a few, the ability to quickly fix items which you have no experience fixing. An actor runs off stage and hands you a broken prop/costume piece which needs to go on stage in 1-2 minutes. You can figure it out, and repair it in a matter of moments.  This comes in handy when I am handed a transformer to fix before the oven timer goes off and I need to get the food out for dinner. The ability to see in the dark backstage and move silently translates perfectly to sneaking out of the children's room while they are sleeping. "Disciplining" actors who won't stop eating props, who won't be quite back stage, who want to play with the cool props which don't belong to them, who bicker amongst each other, who do stupid dangerous things is not unlike dealing with children on a play date. The patience you need to cope with your children and your children's care givers can be learned through managing the egos of actors, directors, and a team of designers. Time management skills are a must for a stage manager. I give as much attention to each area of the show that I can, and then I move on. I can work until the job is done, and have an ability to see what needs cut, and what is indispensable. The same goes for parenting. I can focus on making sure I read to the boys regularly, but I know that if I need to put that on the side burner one day to finish their awesome halloween float it is OK! ALSO, The ability and know how to create their awesome halloween float (See picture), comes directly from prop and set building. Reacting quickly to injuries is just as often used backstage as it is in my house with my two boys.  The list could go on and on. I am constantly thinking, "Why do I know how to do this? Oh that is right, I do this in the theater."

Theater is fleeting and impermanent. You work so hard for each show.  You lose sleep. You put your heart into every show.  However long the rehearsal process, you put in a ton of work. Then you spend an in-human amount of time working out the details during tech week. During that week it is pretty much your only thought morning noon and middle of the night. You see it come together with sound, costumes, props, set and that last darn actor who is finally off book. Then you have the run of the show.  The work pays off in a dramatic and beautiful series of performances.  Then it is over. Just as quick as you can blink an eye. The show you slaved over and loved is done.  You will never have that show back because even if you do that same title again you will have a different cast. Even if you had the same cast you have different context of time, life experiences, etc. Maybe you have a video of the performance, but you may as well not watch it because it will not do it justice. After 3 or 4 shows you learn that you should enjoy the moments you can because they are there to be enjoyed.  You learn the hard times are just as impermanent and will be forgotten more quickly. Some shows are not so great.  Others are amazing. The not so great ones don't make you not love theater. You learn that each experience has it's own set of great moments and you are excited to discover them. I feel this way with my kids. Every age, every season is full of good and bad.  Some weeks are like tech week (a lot of hard work and little to no sleep), and some weeks are performances (rewarding and magical). I cherish the moments worth cherishing and move past the rough moments knowing that they lead to something amazing.

Perhaps the most useful theater lesson which I apply to parenting, is a faith in knowing that somehow it will all work out.  There is a magic in the theater. No mater how impossible it seems right up until the open of the show, things fall together.  You think there is no way the set will be even close to done, you think the lines are not there, you think that the second act is not blocked (staged), and then somehow it comes together.  Somehow against the odds, it just works.  You feel stressed and you feel like it is impossible and you feel like failure is inevitable, but then you quickly see you are wrong.  Everything is fine. You find that groove, you get things done and you feel that since of satisfaction. You learn stress comes from focusing on all these tiny details which in the long run no one notices or remembers.  The satisfaction comes from the big picture.  The big picture is worth so much more than the individual brush strokes. If you care, you try your best, and you get done the things you can get done then your product will be great. I care. I love my kids with all my heart. Everyday I do my best and get done what I can, and my kids are amazing, and I know that they will continue to get better and more beautiful everyday. The hours are not all perfect memories, but the days are filled with perfect pieces which are building amazing people.  I cherish that. I cherish them.

Is it perfect? No. Is it the magical and beautiful and most excellent product of the labor of love and faith? Absolutely.