Stage Mom

I've hesitated writing this blog, in fact I've started and stopped it several times, because I'm afraid of being perceived as a crazed mom who's living out her childhood fantasies through her child. To set the record straight. phhhhbbbbllllttt. It's not true, but I have no proof. So there. Ok, now that I've gotten that out of the way, here's the blog that I've written:

I have never met David Archuleta's father, I only know what I've heard about him in the media, but I suspect much of what has been reported is a distortion of the truth. I base this on the fact that he and I are in similar positions.

Like David's dad who was behind the scenes during most of American Idol (until he was rudely dismissed), I've cast myself into the role of stage mom for the duration of my son's play (hopefully I won't suffer the same fate). I'm there for three reasons. Probably the most important is to be the snarling Momma Bear sitting in the corner, just in case anyone gets any unsavory ideas about my boy. The second is to protect the cast members from the enthusiastic, talkative little guy--which I admit doesn't usually work since I'm sitting in a corner across a large room when I observe him talking an adult's ear off, or wearing googly eye glasses or bouncing a ball he had stashed in his pocket. The final reason is so that I can help him figure out what he's supposed to be doing when he rehearses after the practices. That's the uncomfortable one. I never pictured myself as a stage mom. Never had much taste for them in fact.

But here's the thing, while I won't pretend he's got David's talent (who does?), they do share one common trait: they both have a passion for performing, and for doing it really well. Brandon practices for his upcoming play a lot, in fact the other performers have commented that he puts them to shame with how much he has memorized. And when he does, he shows a surprising perception for subtle differences in tone and voice fluctuations. He'll come to me and say, "Should I say this line like this...or like this..." The two will sound almost exactly the same, with maybe one word being emphasized, or his tone harsher in one than the other. He'll repeat the line over and over until he gets the sound he likes.

He always looks at me at rehearsals after saying one of his big lines, and smiles. I know it appears that he's just looking for my approval, and I'm sure that's part of it. But I think mostly when he looks at me, he's giving me a visual high-five "I got it!"

It's a fine line - this pushing vs. encouraging, one that I'm not thrilled to be walking. But a mom's only as happy as her unhappiest child, and this is what excites him, so here I am - cheering him on and hoping I don't damage him along the way.

Mr. Archuleta, if you'd like to talk I'm all ears.

Hard Hat Area

I just spent a few crazed hours figuring out how to make my own header. It's not very good, but better than the stock one I've been using. Of course that required that I change the background, since the colors clashed, and of course I had to change the sidebar since my picture's now in the header. So...(drum roll please)...my new totally mediocre look! Woo hoo! It's just a practice, since I've got to set up an author's site soon, which will hopefully look way better than this one. But it's a start! Come on in...have a look around...put up your feet...and of course help yourself to a complimentary virtual chocolate!

Take Me Out To The Ball Game...

Many of you have praised my son for his guitar playing - thank you! One of these days I'll post a video of him playing a song like Pipeline, or Johnny Be Good, it's amazing. He wrote me a sweet little mother's day song Sunday morning, and wanted to perform it before family arrived for dinner, because he said he'd be embarrassed to play it for them. I asked him what he was talking about, since he loves to perform (make that LOVES to perform), and he pointed out that he only likes it when it's good, and this song isn't very good. Hmmm, a perfectionist. I guess that's a necessity for a real performer. I thought it was wonderful, but whatever, I'm a little biased.

Anyway, the title of this blog is about baseball, and the story really is. Yesterday he had a baseball game, he played rightfielder. He tried to convince me to skip the game, it's the end of the season and he's tired of standing in outfield for an hour. He's not the most motivated player in the world, plus he's at the age that they mostly know how to play, but not really. They're as often as not to throw the ball randomly towards the pitcher's mound as to an actual player. One of the mothers commented that it's hard not to laugh sometimes and I hardily agreed. At one point the ball was hit directly into right field, and my son watched it, while standing in place playing an air guitar. The father next to me said, "The right-fielder's in the perfect position for that. What's he doing?"

"Practicing his air guitar," I said. A few minutes later the ball went to the same place, and the same thing happened.

"That right fielder's just standing there!" The dad said, "Who is that kid anyway?"

"Mine," I said. "He's mine. Sorry."

The guy was embarrassed, rightfully so. I told him it was okay, but he should be sure to catch him at the Sandy Amphitheatre next month when they put on Ragtime. I told him we were headed to a rehearsal directly after this, which is where he'd rather be. There's even a baseball scene, where he sings and dances and isn't ever expected to touch a real ball, so it'll be fine.