The Best Seat in the House

This was my view for 3 out of the 4 shows.

It’s the best seat in the house.

I love being able to see from the audience, but my heart is always beyond full after a performance week in the greenroom. I seriously love these days.

The kids are always louder than they should be, which involves a lot of shh-ing, reminding of the importance of only using whispers while friends are on stage, and the occasional “crazy mom eyes” when they really need to take it down a notch.

The moments between scenes are chaotic – finding a lost piece of a costume, making sure everyone from the next number is ready in the wings, buckling a stray safety pin, and giving that last voice of encouragement – you got this. Hugs and fist bumps.

The stash of bandaids for mic wires, checking the schedule posters, the quiet conversations with kids – maybe about the show, maybe about another part of their life. Often they are jostling and messing around, but more than I thought, they are looking for validation and moments of kindness, a tiny brick of vulnerability in a wall of ‘cool’ in the older kids especially.

We are pulling our hair out when they forget directions and yet also totally amazed that these kids who aren’t even teenagers have the confidence and abilities to own a show and make it their own, to step onto the stage and do their part.  They are running sound, lights, have designed the set, and memorized lines and choreography practice after practice. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday morning. Some who struggle in the classroom find their place, their voice, a sense of accomplishment on the stage. Some of our more shy students shyly find their smile working the tech crew – official and confident in black behind the scenes.

I needed some of the fifth graders to help hand out flowers to the teachers the last performance, and their enthusiasm and thoughtfulness as they asked to be a part of showing gratitude melted my heart. “Please let me be the one to thank her!” “Can I hand her the flowers?” “I want to say thank you!”

And every once and a while, when the greenroom is quiet enough, I can slip into the wings or the back door of the auditorium and sneak a peek as my kid does her thing. She’s not showy, but she’s proud. She’s not the loudest, but she’s practiced for months. And the moment where you see from this angle, opposite of the audience and the lights and the curtain… it’s a very lovely moment to be a mom.