Parents often cry during their child’s musical performance, specially Christmas time or end of year. I cried watching my son sing in church back in July as the finished nursery. But this time the tears I was having we’re not of joy or happiness.
[the post-it note style of ticketing]
Skipping over how this performance was so last minute no one knew about it until the Monday and the performance was on the Friday, my son still doesn’t tell us much about what he does in school apart from “played outside”. But we asked him about the singing his class is doing and he told us the songs and even sang one of them to us. It was amazing as he hated singing and he was growing out of his shell. I couldn’t wait to see hi, with his school friends taking part.
[the no explanation poster with a spelling mistake]
Now I was told I could take my pushchair in with me due to my back pains I can not hold my youngest for very long and she is the worst lap child ever. You have heard of lap cats and cats who don’t sit on laps? My daughter doesn’t do the lap sitting thing at all. So when I got there and was told no pushchairs in the hall I felt like my jaw fell off. I grabbed the bag of snacks and drinks, pushchair was placed somewhere in the library and I had to carry a 17 month old, a bag, two winter coats and her favourite sock monkey.
The kids came out and began to sang. I looked for ages for my son but couldn’t see him, my daughter had decided the milk and toy monkey were no longer needed and started screaming so I spent the rest of the time walking around with baby, bag, coats and toys whilst still hunting for my son in the sea of children.
I spotted him. He looked up for a moment whilst every other child sang Do You Want to Build a Snowman, picked his nose then hide behind some children again. Every so often he looked back up looking to see if he could find me and I waves like mad but some reason he didn’t notice me (I’m the only person with pink hair and my son still can’t see me!) until at the very end when my back gave in and I let my daughter walk. She ran to the stage and so he saw me at the front looking rather awkward and sweaty. He waved but looked scared and unhappy.
I felt my eyes water up. Where has he gone? What’s going on? That is not my outgoing and chatty little man in front of me, more a child that looked similar to him. But no it really was him and I had to hold back any tears as the head teacher said a few words and invited the parents to make Christmas themed crafts with their children.
Again this was awful as I couldn’t be with my son. He cried and begged me to come with him but I couldn’t. I was in pain, my daughter was screaming like a demon had taken over her. I hated this whole event. And so I cried. I grabbed the pushchair, got to the door and then realised I cannot get out without a teacher who was no where to be found. Finally I was let out and I walked home, biting my lip to hold back any more tears.
[how I felt afterwards]
I got home, settled Petit Girl down for a nap, made a cup of tea and just… Cried. I cried and cried and then wiped my tears off my face and got on with the day.
I needed that cry so badly but even now thinking of that boy looking so scared and shy brings me to tears. I cannot believe that was my son and yet he clearly was him.