Our daughter set the downhearted tone for the day. Daughters and sons and various other loved ones have that knack.
She sent her Dad an email saying she wasn’t having a good day. This was 8:41 am. Her day had barely begun.
During her brief and tiring visit on Sunday she had said she didn’t want to go back to school.
I’m afraid when Malia says things like that she very often means them.
Three years ago she had been nearing the end of her tether at her ballet school and I managed to persuade her to do a final Nutcracker, solely for my enjoyment and her closure. She stayed for the Spring performance also, she was exquisite on stage.
But, like an old lady, her knees were giving out, her hips were aching and her teacher was becoming impossibly demanding of her, as teachers of hugely talented students, who usually become extensions of their own egos, tend to do. When she caught my eye from her centre stage position during the penultimate performance of the run and mouthed to me,
“I’m finished!” I nodded in agreement to bolster her up.
The curtain went down for the last time, the following afternoon, on my daughter’s senior company career.
This is not senior company. There is more at stake.
When I called her at lunchtime, on this downhearted day, to offer kindly words she said,
“This is not what I imagined…I don’t know what I imagined…” She is flummoxed.
“This is England,” I said redundantly, “college life is different…”
I could hear the sobs. I could feel my heart being ripped to shreds. At least I was only 37 miles away I comforted myself..
“It’s like a job Mum, I go from 9-5, come home take a shower, eat, go to bed, get up and do it all over again.”
How many times have we said this in our lives?
She is tired of the routine, the repetition. This is only her third week and she is bored already!
“If you were a pianist or a violinist you would have to practice scales until you and everyone within earshot were thoroughly anaesthetized. At least all your practicing is done in class.”
She sobbed again and my stomach dropped to keep my heart company.
“Dance used to be fun, now I have to remember to keep my tummy tight and my butt rock hard, how can I express myself under those constrictions? I was doing just fine without all this extra technique!” She sniffed loudly.
I laughed inside since I recognised these basic technical tools. I had not realized she wasn’t bothering to engage her core. Think how much better she’ll be when she masters that!
Lunch was over and she had to go. I hung up the phone satisfied that she was learning something but worried about her stubborn reluctance not to go back on her word.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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