Bad Mother

I don't enjoy the school productions. No offense to my amazingly talented nephew, he is always the star in my eyes. But I have a very bad habit of sitting there in the audience of beaming parents trying to imagine what it must feel like to watch YOUR child on stage. Envy. Always gets me into trouble. Then I turn nasty, standing alone during intermission, arms crossed, refusing food and a cup of tea like an over tired toddler. I am revolting. I am like the terrifying stage mother...but my kid doesn't have an agent. I'm worse.

"It's not my thing", I hear them chime at which point I start to question money well spent? Or not. At this point I've passed revolting, I'm just mean. And then the other day as I stood chatting to a teacher while waiting for Tobie to finish her orientation ( more money wasted I was probably thinking... I wasn't but we know I'm capable), when suddenly his words reddened my face and swelled my heart all at the same time. He was talking about happy, well balanced "great" girls. My girls. 

At 6.30 every week day morning when I walk into the kitchen and turn the kettle on theres a smile and a "Hi Mum". Their lives are becoming increasingly complex as they navigate their physical world, their emotional world and their cyber world. But they remain happy kids and really, it's all I have ever wanted. I just need a slap every now and then.

And so the other night as I sat and watched William perform in A Midsummer Nights Dream, I laughed and clapped and ate chocolate and looked across at Lucinda as she smiled and enjoyed her cousin's performance.