Concerts and Kids

Concerts and Kids.  The Chicago Waldorf  School Holiday Concert was last night.

Cole isn’t big on performing. If at all possible, he will stand behind a kid taller than he is and move his lips every once in a while. I have learned to accept that you can drive a kid to their holiday concert but you can’t make them stand so you can see them—or sing. For this concert, I tried a little Santa persuasion and reminded him that the jolly big guy might be watching his performance, to which he replied, “Mom. I know dad said he could listen to my concert more fully with his eyes closed … but he was sleeping.”

Concert attire. The school makes a simple request. Black pants, white shirt. The night before the concert, I suggested Cole pull out his white shirt and black jeans. I also suggested he write a note and stick it on the back door to remind us to take the clothes to school in the morning. Rolled eyes; in an exasperated 14-year-old tone, “Mom, I won’t forget.” Yes indeed, I fell for it—again. Half way to school, we realized the concert clothes were at home. Not a problem, I will arrive early for the concert so he can change into the appropriate clothes. I return home, write a note, and stick it to the back door to remind myself to take the clothes to school, and check to make sure the black jeans and white shirt are clean. They are clean, but because the white shirt has fallen off the hanger (Cole’s clothes seem to be allergic to hangers), it is wrinkled. I don’t iron (ever) but I’m a ninja master at steaming clothes while I shower. I steam out the wrinkles, remember the clothes, and manage to get them to school in time. Guess what, the black jeans don’t fit. Kids know just how to soothe you, “It’s OK Mom, some of my friends are just wearing jeans.”

Don’t you just hate kids sometimes?

It was comforting to walk into the church where the concert was being held and join my fellow comrade at arms. We looked into each other eyes acknowledging we had fought the hard battle and prevailed.

The concert began, and I was amazed to see my kid front and center, drumming his African drum—in his jeans and semi-pressed white shirt. My son the drummer.

Our holiday concert was magical. Beautiful music; outstanding singing; mismatched, wrinkled, Waldorf children; directed by our talented and amusing musical director, Jeff Spade.

Before leaving the church, I stop to light a candle for Joe—he wasn’t sleeping, he was laughing. I threatened to light the candle for a nicer soul and he reminded me that I would never have found the parking place directly beside the church if he had not provided a little divine intervention. Sighing, I had to agree; finding parking spots are the bane of my existence. As I waited in the car for Cole to join me for the ride home, I turned the radio on and listened to the song Imagine by John Lennon.

Glad you were in my Odd neighborhood. Feel free to drop by any time. I would love to hear from you in the comment section of this blog, or on Facebook or Twitter!

★~♥~♥~★~ ♥~★~★~♥ ~

Katybeth

17 thoughts on “Concerts and Kids

  1. Wow, I am very impressed! They sound amazing and there are no wrinkles in sight : ) Btw, its the anniversary of John Lennon’s death today.

  2. Thanks for sharing the picture of the wee little man on the drums, I maybe the only one to say this but Cole looks very much like you in this picture. Joe looks so cute with his tambourine!

    The concert was very nice and the students did a great job and Cole actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

    What I find very dear is how Joe makes his presence known to you and Cole. The holidays are very difficult for those of us who miss family but if we allow it to happen they will join us in spirit. I am so happy for you, it happened yesterday at the concert, and with John Lennon to boot! Have a happy Advent season.

    • Thank you Nancy. It is a hard year, harder than last when we were still numb but family, good friends, and blogging makes it much easier.
      You know, you are right! I think Cole did almost have fun last night!

  3. If all of his friends jumped off a bridge, would he go to?

    An oldie but a goodie. Sorry, if you sign up for an activity, you agree to abide by the rules of that activity, no matter how silly they might seem. Tough lesson.

    • An oldie but a goodie!
      He does not want to follow his friends–I think he was trying to reassure me that I would not be the only mom people talked about because of-course that it what I am REALLY worried about after all.
      It all worked out–like so many things that in the moment are so upsetting. Humor never fails to help.

      Thanks so much for dropping by Odd!

    • A parking spot helped. I was so harried with getting the clothes to school on time and the upset over the black pants that were to small…it wasn’t until I lit the candle and heard Joe in my head that I remembered to be amazed. No matter how pure I am…I can never seem to find a parking spot!

  4. I think there’s something that makes them not get the importance of actually dressing and making sure things fit. In my house, I think it is my fault for being really casual.

    But yeah, I’ve been there…”concert next week, how’s your tux?” “good” 3 days later I’d find it on the floor.

  5. Oh I don’t know…I know IBM type parents (I use this as an example since I grew up as an IBM brat) and there kids are not better or worse than mine. Maybe its about being specific–after all what does make sure your clothes are ready…really mean? I would say- good fit, clean, and pressed. I suspect Cole would say, “They are in my closet.” They were so cute when they were little 😀

  6. I’m not sure how you do but someone how you manage to embrace the humor or parenthood along with the moments that can send you spiraling down the bad mothering moment hole–with such love. You you seem to have so much fun being a mom even when it’s not that much fun.
    😀

  7. Lovely story. Moments like these remind us of what really matters. I’m sure Cole could have been up there in a bathing suit and once you saw him drumming you wouldn’t have cared.

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