UPDATED:
So, after reading the comment by the Harvard Housewife I realized – duh – I don’t need no preschool play to see my little goat. I’ve got a flipcam and plenty of time on my hands since we are snowed in and completely housebound. So, without further ado, I am delighted to share with you the “on-demand” version of “Goat number two” doing his thang (accompanied by little brother number two).
And yes, those are snow pants and a shapka – TWO FEET of snow, people!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrFUk0cvymU]
ORIGINAL POST:
Tonight our four-year-old was supposed to star in the preschool Christmas play. As “goat number two.” We could not have been more excited if he had the lead in Les Mis. He had two lines:
I was amazed at the wonderful sight,
I, said the goat, so spunky and bright.
There were accompanying actions. It was a thing of beauty to watch him shake his little tooshie and work the jazz hands. To anticipate his debut in this, his first in a lifetime of school concerts, felt like a parental rite of passage.
When I was 5 months pregnant with him and living in Johannesburg, South Africa we attended his cousin’s elementary school end of the year production. It was the first time in my life I had experienced any genuine interest in those most painful of experiences – the children’s concert.
As I felt the baby inside me roll and shift with the strong beat of the music and the shrieking of a hundred little girls, my heart ached in precisely the way it ached tonight. It felt full to bursting with the joy of anticipation. I was about to join this long line of parents who have ushered their children into a taste of independence under bright lights and before a thousand star-struck eyes.
The distance between the children on the stage and the parents in the audience might as well be measured in miles. Because it symbolizes a stark ability for these little souls to step out of their comfort zone and take on an assignment that requires memorization and the ability to master one’s nerves. All while their parents sit tantalizingly within eye’s reach.
After tonight, I have come to believe that for a child to wholly embrace the moment both courage and joy are required. Courage to step away from the familiar and into a new set of circumstances. And joy to make that experience one’s own. Because when it bubbles up from the toes, then even the words of “goat number two” are transformed for the listeners into a lyrical testament to God’s delight in mankind and mankind’s celebration in return.
At least, that’s how “goat number two” made us feel all week. Unfortunately, the audience would not get to experience it firsthand. Because “goat number two” refused to set foot on the stage.
Instead, “goat number two” crashed and burned in a big way.
It started before we even arrived at the school. “Goat number two” informed us seriously and adamantly that he would not be performing tonight and that instead he preferred to, “sit with you guys.”
Seeing the goat costume did not help.
All reasoning failed. All attempts to force him into the costume were disastrous. And when faced with my hysterical son yelling at me from a corner of the ladies room that the costume was “weird, mama, just so weird” and pleading to “just be with you and dada” I found myself rethinking rites of passage.
It was the first time I had felt profoundly disappointed in my child. I wanted him to want to wear that costume. I wanted him to want to put on a show like everyone else’s kids who were raring to go. I wanted him to wow the heck out of goat number two’s two lines and if he had whipped out a bedazzler and jazzed up a jean jacket here and there while he was at it that would have been fine by me too.
Instead, he squared off with me, tears streaming down his face and stubbornness in the set of his jaw and resisted every attempt to make him budge.
It was a bitter pill to swallow.
I walked back to our seats with my kid beside me. And the parents roundabout nodded and smiled sympathetically. Pete and I sat through the entire production with our little star between us instead of between the other gentle beasts of Bethlehem. What made it somehow worse was how utterly at ease he was there, on the pew, between us. He sang along, he clapped and yelled out “good job” to his classmates. He even did some of the actions. But he would not change his mind or his location.
Pete and I both felt like we had lost something precious. This particular “first” that we had been telling folks about all week broke into several sharp shiny pieces at our feet.
It was a hard, strange evening. We wouldn’t have wanted him to be like those other two kids up on the stage who had tears running down their cheeks and onto their costumes. But, nor would we want him to get comfortable walking away from the team when it’s convenient for him.
But mostly, mostly what I realize is that the central lesson was not about him.
It was about me. This was still a first. And I need to remember this small taste of what it feels like to put your own dreams onto your child and then be crushed when he doesn’t deliver. I do not want to make a habit of that. Especially when it starts to have implications that are much bigger than a preschool play. For both our sakes.
Praying for peace in your spirt and that you have learned whatever lesson God was teaching you all.
Bless your “Mommy” heart!
Thanks so much.
Awwh, Goat #2 and his Mama will have lots more chances at the first performance. And you’re totally right–so much of these experiences are about what we learn as parents. I’m still struggling to figure out what expectations are appropriate and should be pushed…and what I need to let go of. I guess we just have to take it day by day (and play by play!).
Exactly – that was the hardest part – trying to figure out if we needed to push him a little or if we needed to follow his lead and trust his instincts that it was just not his night. Today he has a roaring cold so that could have contributed to his feeling off last night and just wanting to hang with the parents in the safety of our pew. Finding balance – it’s a hard thing.
Once again you’ve put so eloquently a very important lesson to be learned. I really enjoy reading your words of wisdom, so fresh from your heart. I married a man whose mother poured all of her hopes and dreams in her sons, and while I’m talking extreme, it serves as such a great reminder to always place hope in Christ alone. Even the little things.
You’ll have more chances to see your little goat # 2 shine, just like our Father gives us more chances. Don’t you just love how having children allows you to parallel everything back to the Grace of God? I find it incredible! Be blessed, dear sister!
Awww, thanks so much for the encouragement. Much appreciated.
ok, this wont help and it is not what you were seeking when you got all your feelings out but I want to tell that my oldest (Lauren, now 9) was so shy and so introverted that she would not even think about getting on stage when she was 3-7 she danced and her recitals were all a bust and a waste of money – it was SO hard to keep going…last year she had 2 parts in The Nutcracker and 2 parts in Peter Pan the ballet – she was amazing…she didn’t think twice wasn’t even nervous…they all “come in to their own” in their own time and I am so glad we kept up with dance even though it was so disapointing for so many years.
Thanks so much for sharing that – so encouraging to hear. Jackson loves to dance and sing and jive and shake it with his class – but apparently, only when it comes out of joy and not out of obligation. Again, straddling the balance between the two will be an interesting journey for him I think.
*HUG*
Oh yes. I think it is a rite of passage for parents. I have had the little girl who did get up front but then proceeded to pull her dress up over her head constantly and pick her nose and scowl at the audience…
It is a lot about setting aside our expectations (again, part of that perfect family image we try to project – who wouldn’t be proud to have their child be the star of the show?) and know our child well enough to know when to gently push and when to hold them close. It sounds like you made the right choice!
“when to gently push and when to hold them close.” Yup – that’s the trick alright!
So, I guess we won’t be seeing “goat #@” in any toddler pageants any time soon. pity. ;-)
Lisa-Jo, God certainly works through our kids to show us we need Him, and where we need Him to work in our hearts, doesn’t he? Charity, your comment is so right on. My daughter is now in college. We still are still in that dance to this day.
Another bit of comfort: I used to get physically ill when I had to get up in front and sing or speak at those programs (and couldn’t be dragged from home twice!) Now, I’m a speaker! I have incredible peace when I walk up on stage and share my “little lines” of lyrical testament to God.
I do wish someone would have talked with me and helped me to find peace and courage in God at an earlier age…sometimes that starts with a hug and the reassurance that you’re still loved completely even when you’re not a shining star.
Thanks for the wonderful insights, folks. It has been fun to read your stories and remember that what felt so dramatic to us is mostly par for the parenting course. Love it.
I, too, was awaiting the tale of Goat #2 like it was my child. Lol. That’s a great story and a great lesson. Reminds me so much of one of my fav Xmas movies LOVE ACTUALLY but I ramble. I was really feeling that post.
Awwww thanks. I still have some left over goat number two remorse. But, whaddaya know, right in the middle of dinner tonight he launched into his two lines and all the actions just as cool as could be. Guess it must just work better as a private performance. Maybe I’ll need to video it and upload for posterity.
PS: I LOVE that flic!
I LOVED IT!!!!! That was truly awesome. hubby and I watched it a couple of times. Love the “spunky” goat move and the bravo bravo thank you bow. He did great and you’ll be sure to share this story with him when he gets older too I’m sure.
Ha, Thanks!! It was almost better than if he had done it on stage because he wasn’t obscured by a hundred other kids. Thanks for sharing the moment with me! :)
Aw, sweetie… I’m sorry. That is such a hard lesson to learn. I know that it’s hard to set aside our expectations for our children. I’ve navigated this lesson a few times already, but I expect to be reminded of it many, MANY more times. What’s funny is that I would rather have a child that fades into the background, but… God surely grows us, doesn’t He?
It seems silly how sad something as seemingly inconsequential as a preschool play can make you, right? But, today I got several takes of goat number two doing his thing for the fam and I realized – duh – I have the “on demand” version, which is almost better than a one-run only show!! :)
Aww! Thanks for posting the video, Lisa-Jo!
Yeah, you know… I think that there have been times when I felt like your child. I am not one to rise to challenge, most of the time. Usually I see a challenge and I’d rather just decide then and there that I’m quite safe and happy right where I am. My brother, on the other hand, is an adventurer with great ambition.
I could see my mom’s pride in my brother. I know sometimes she wished I would step up. Sometime I DO need to. I am also so glad for her love for me just as I am.
It’s a fine balance, eh?
Thanks for that personal insight, Kacie. It’s always interesting to see the world through someone else’s eyes. Especially when they can relate to your kids!