Expectation Management

And the winner is MJD Mom. I will be sending you the Happy Mama Hand to Toe Foaming Soap, the Angel Baby Shampoo and Body Wash, and the silk sock liners. Baby JJP is going to smell delicious! Now, for today's top story...

Expectation Management

In middle school, I ran for secretary in the Student Council elections. And I lost. And I was angry and bitter.

But then I grew up, and had kids, and suddenly my daughter was 7 years old and Irish dancing. Her teacher told me she was good enough to go to the National Championships in Nashville, Tennessee that summer. I was blown away. Having grown up with no athletic ability, or physical grace, it still amazes me that my children are good at this kind of stuff.

So began a whirlwind of travel, driving, spending, competing on an international scale, spending, driving, spending, making some lifelong friends, and learning some hard lessons about Expectation Management.

I learned that even though I can pay for all the lessons, pay for extra private lessons, pay for a stunning new costume and wig, drive to all the lessons, ensure at home practice time on a stage built in the basement, dress her, do her make-up, glue her socks on (yes, they glue their socks on), I couldn't dance for her. Not that I would be better. But, no matter how good I was at being the Irish Dance Mom, at the end of the day, what she won or lost was based on her and her alone. So, I learned to let go. I stopped feeling nauseous and losing sleep the night before competitions. I learned to look beyond today's competition.



And she learned how to win. How to be gracious when you do well and someone you know didn't. How to be encouraging. How to be humble.

And she learned how to lose. She learned how to see a disappointing score, and smile at the winner, and congratulate her. How not to blame the judge or the musician or the competitors or me. How to resolve to do it better next time.



She learned how to be friends with the National Champion because she's a nice kid and fun to hang out with, and how to never resent her for her crown. And how to be friends with all of the nice kids who never qualify for the big competitions, but they dance because they love it.



We used role play. Literally. I saw some very upset children at these things, and I didn't want that to be her. That doesn't mean we didn't get upset. We just didn't do it in ballrooms with hundreds of people. That's what the ride home is for. That's why God invented ice cream.




All of these lessons prepared her for middle school basketball. After having one team per grade for a few years, an influx of new students increased enrollment, thus necessitating the Dreaded A and B team. Of course, as her mother, I always thought she was good enough for the A team and those coaches are blind. But she didn't make the A team. And she was okay.

She ended up being the star of the B team. She played nearly every minute of every game. Sure, they lost them all, but she played, because she wanted to. She wanted to play basketball and she didn't care if all of her friends were on the A team, or if they never won a game. Well...that was disappointing. But what really bothered her was when her teammates wouldn't show up on time. Or at all. She was a Team Player. I was never more proud of her. Not even when she qualified for the World Championships of Irish Dance. Twice.

I've learned a lot too. I've learned that the B team is usually the best place to be. Superstars and Ball Hogs always make the A team. I've seen lots of talented players spend a game or a season on the bench with little to no playing time because they are the worst of the best. I think kids learn more on the B team when the pressure to win the Championship has been lifted. And sometimes they have more fun.

So, now I am applying all of these life lessons to play auditions.

Last year, my son got a decent part in the Fall Play. He loved it and he did really well. The director announced at the cast party that the Spring Musical would be the Hobbit. Immediately, Peter told the director that he wanted the lead. He wanted to play Bilbo. Did I mention that this was a musical? That my son had never sung publicly before? That he has never had voice lessons or even choir practice?

I tried to prepare him. I told him that it was highly unlikely that a Freshman would get the lead. I told him to prepare himself to receive a small part. Of course, as his mother, I thought he'd be great as the lead.

The day after auditions, he rubbed all of that in my face. He was cast as Bilbo. He accused me of not believing that he was good enough. That was never the case. I just wanted to prepare, to cushion the blow, to force him to entertain the thought that he might not get what he wanted. Because no one did that for me when I ran for Student Council. And it should not have been that big a deal.

So he sang and danced on stage. I was so proud! I sat in the second row, hugely pregnant, on the aisle, so as to have easy access to the nearest ladies' room, which is never near enough, at an all boys' school.

For his big solo, he came and stood in the aisle and looked at me and sang, "I Want To Go Home." I beamed. My sister-in-law says there wasn't a dry eye in the place.



I love that song. It's about when the journey has gone on long enough, Bilbo realizes he'd rather be where his greatest treasure is, home. I was so proud.

"Why did I come so far away? There's just one place I want to stay. I tried Adventure now I'll say I want to go home...Your life depends on what you're looking for and my quest ends inside my own front door. Some love to journey forth for gold. I guess I'm not that brave and bold...so I want to go home."

No, that's not him singing.

Then Susan, former Amazing Irish Dancer, had play auditions. She's a freshman. Her brother got the lead in his musical when he was a freshman. See where this could go? See the dark clouds of disappointment looming ahead?

Never fear! Well-adjusted, big-hearted Susan practiced her song, she auditioned for song and dance. She was cast as a Napkin in the upcoming performance of Beauty and the Beast and SHE WAS THRILLED! I am so proud of her.

And this week, Lucy is auditioning for a part in a musical produced by our local Catholic children's theater group. This group is the real deal, run by lots of professional theater and music people, really wonderful Catholic parents.

I'm so nervous. They won't cast everyone. She's never sung in public before. Of course, as her mother, I think she's amazing and should be given a fabulous role.

So we've discussed best and worst case scenarios. We've reviewed the facts, that there will be cuts, that she might not be cast, that there are some very talented kids auditioning. She's picked her song. I've helped download a karaoke version onto her ipod. I've encouraged her to practice, given her positive feedback. I've reminded her to smile, to sing loudly, to act out her song. I've filled out the forms and written the check and I'll get her there in plenty of time.

But at the end of the day, I can't sing it for her. I can only be there for her.
I will be so proud.