on how to be a crappy parent.
Today was the “BIG KINDERGARTEN SHOW” that featured all the kindergarten kids in the school singing together. I looked forward to it all week (all month, really). This morning, I helped my daughter get dressed in “something beautiful” and did her hair special, and sent her on her way. I was hoping that we could all go to school together and wait for the show to start, but my stomach had other plans. So, since I didn’t feel well, and Maddie needed to get ready, I sent Daddy with the big kids, and we followed a bit later.
Well, I was searching for the video camera, and the regular camera, and shoes for Maddie, and shoes for Gracie to bring, since I sent her in sandals, and still taking medicine for my stomach. I ended up getting there JUST in time for the principal to point out the parents in the balcony, as I made my way ceremoniously through.. you guessed it… the balcony. But, even though all the parents and kids in the first half of the auditorium saw me, my girl didn’t. And I could tell.
She went through the motions of the songs and I could tell she was singing, but she wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t excited. We tried waving from the balcony like crazy people, but she didn’t see us. See, my son is an old pro at this, and he always knows to look in the balcony FIRST, because chances are high he’ll see us up there, and relax and have fun while he’s on stage. Gracie, though she’s been sitting with us in the balcony for 2 years, forgot. She didn’t know to look for us, and it broke my heart.
I failed to tell her where to look for us.
I also failed to tell her she could take off her sweater and that she should smile even if she’s not that happy to be up on stage, because she’s performing.
I failed to make a big show of running down from the balcony to greet her as she got off the stage, leaving her to think I wasn’t there through the entire spotlight assembly.
I somehow failed to do what I needed to do to insure that her first time in the big show wasn’t the absolute best.
Other kids’ parents were rushing down, taking pics, giving hugs and kisses.
Other kids looked happy to perform, happy to see their parents in the audience, happy to be singing.
I know that this isn’t even a whole chapter in this book of failure. It’s just a page, but unfortunately there are so many more pages in this book already, and many more to come, surely.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll write about something positive I did, rather than something so negative. Then again, I never did pretend to be Suzy Sunshine, did I? Anyone reading this who knows me knows better.