THE SHOW MUST GO ON

I had my first taste of the stage this Christmas. It was nerve racking and I must admit that I cried several times, but all in all I think I rose to the occasion and performed in my role as well as I could. My part? Mother of Oliver, ‘Crowd’ in Cinderella, his first school play. He was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in bow tie, wide eyes and a big thumbs up to the audience when he spotted Steve and me. Despite his small part, we were delighted to see him up there, happy, confident and enjoying himself.

I guess it’s just the start of the heart swelling stuff of parenting that comes with your child venturing out into the world. It also struck me that it’s the start of him moving into a role independent of my influence. Although I’ve known that his starting kindergarten did signal the beginning of separation, because I am not witness to his activity while he’s there I have somehow managed to avoid facing the fact that he is moving out of my orbit. This state of denial is aided and abetted by Olly who has taken the obligatory vow of silence that all little ones take when starting school. You know the sort of thing: ‘What did you do at school today?’ ‘Nothing’, ‘Who did you play with?’ ‘No-one’, ‘Did the teachers say anything to you?’ ‘No’. 

But the play was a very public and moving display of how he is a separate being from me. He has other adult points of reference in the teachers and peers with whom he relates as chums. And my role as Olly walks on the world stage and acts in his life’s play? Like all parents it’s just to watch, keeping my fingers crossed and clapping as loudly as I can to let him know I’m there for him delighting in his success and willing him on when he falters.

My other theatrical experience this Christmas was when we took Olly to see the pantomime. It was a production of Aladdin at our local theatre and was truly wonderful. I was expecting something rather faded and shabby, with earnest but stumbling performances. Instead it was polished and sparkling and completely professional. The sets were amazing, and the costumes breathtaking. And Olly hated it. 

It started off well enough; in the lobby he looked at all the pictures of Aladdin and told us all about the story, but once the curtain came up he dived under his seat and wouldn’t come out. My mum was at the play too and she tried her best to encourage him to take a peek, but just as he was plucking up courage the villain of the panto exploded onto the stage in a flash of pyrotechnics and we had to take Olly out. He then had a lovely time in the lobby playing with his souvenirs from the show and scoffing ice cream. 

And it struck me then that what I feel about his separation from me is true and hard to bear, but he does still need me to protect him against the villains of the world, to reassure him when the bright lights and drama get too much. And that’s the part I picked out and am happy to play even if I don’t get my lines right all the time. 

Quote of the Week

Billie (aged 2!) wanders into the kitchen looking extremely crestfallen:

Me: ‘What's up Bill?’

Bill: ‘I am sad.’

Me: ‘Why honey?’

Bill: ‘I haven't got any friends.’

Juliet Jones lives in domestic chaos with husband Steve, son Oliver (aged 3) and daughter Billie (aged 2) in Hertfordshire.