I read somewhere recently that being able to delay gratification is a sign of maturity. Tell that to The Princess who lives in the condo, excuse me, castle with me. I could get this blog updated every now and then, but typically I'm kept hustling about the estate keeping up with her innumerable commands to refill her glass of Pelligrino water, but only with three, NOT five ice cubes, or orders to "call Tech Support NOW, because I can't download the trailer for Racing Stripes FAST enough."
The Princess doesn't even talk the way I do. For instance, I'd say, "Git me uh glass a iiice waader right now hon." However, using perfectly uninflected English, The Princess haughtily remarks, "I'm thirsty." In French sometimes. I get ordered around so much, I'd swear that instead of my usual double-wide drawl, I now have a Cockney accent and really big bazooms, just like all those robust scullery maids in Merchant-Ivory movies.
But as long as delaying gratification doesn't bring on senility or the impulse to hoard 20K back issues of National Geographic, then I guess I'm ok with it as I am a chronic late bloomer. It's taken me over twenty years to realize about 99% of my hopes and dreams, etc. But damn, they sure are good when you get 'em at this advanced age!
My mother always said if children were given too much at an early age then they would never have anything to look forward to. It sure was great when we could put away the sticks and move on to the lovely stones, Mom. I'm up to two-by-fours now.
Astonishingly, the dream-realizations are coming along fast and furious of late. My head's all awhirl with possibility. Surely a Marc Jacobs dress, the Rapture and that indoor lap pool are close at hand. Two lifelong ones in just this one week alone.
I have officially become - a STAGE MOTHER! There was no prouder mom walking the planet when, today, I registered my child for lessons this fall with The Atlanta Ballet. I feel like a real mom now. I'm already counting her twirl-around thingees in my head when she does the pas-duh-der solo during Dance of the Rabid Squirrel at the Fox In The Theater.
So much to learn. So many things to shop for. Seriously, in my girly-girl head, there is no finer pinnacle of Ultimate Womanhood than that of ballet dancer. I couldn't be happier knowing that my daughter dances like a fairy princess already. And I'm not just saying this - I have the videotapes. And I'll SHOW you if you're not carefull.
So what if she's only five and the dancing looks, occasionally, like the fairy princess got pulled over after hours and is now taking a DUI test on the side of I-285, but hey, did I mention she's only five? And I've longed to walk into a real ballet school since I was five too, and now I've got all the reason in the world to do so. Luckily, The Princess can't get there fast enough on her own two wide little feet.
In other dream-realization news, I performed stand-up at the Punchline. Uh huh...one of the premier comedy clubs in the country, and there I was. It was my graduation from the Jeff Justice Comedy Workshoppe.
Only wish I'd been doing it for the last twenty years or so. It was like crack, being up there on the stage with the spotlight and everyone looking at me to say something funny. Apparently I did, because folks really laughed and clapped, or they said they did.
I was so nerve-racked up there, in a good way, that I couldn't really tell what was going on out there in the audience. Sounded like people responding though. Nothing hit the stage or me. Then again, the audience was made up of people who were, more or less, required to make us feel great for that three minutes - friends and family of the graduates.
Gotta tell you, those big 'ol spot lights sure are bright. Hope I had enough eye makeup on, although I'm confident you could see me in New Jersey from the amount of Clinique I eagerly slapped on beforehand. The Princess was mightily impressed by the glare of the purple eyeshadow alone. Her only remark though was, "I'd be SOOO good at that." Typical.
I'll surely make all of you watch the DVD when I get it, as most of you bums never made it to the show. But my heart and thanks really goes out to those who did: Doug, Amanda, Jonathon, David, Travis, and Kimberly. On a dark and stormy Monday night too.
Only Tom and Cheryl got a special Get Out Of The Obligation/What Was It You Said You Were Going To Do? pass as Elise, their beautiful, sweet nine-year old fell seriously ill that evening, and thus they couldn't be there. Elise is doing much, much better - whew. You go Elise! And Tom and Cheryl too.
Believe me, there's no place scarier for a parent to have to be on this planet than Children's Healthcare of Atlanta. But if you gotta go, that's the place you want your kid to be in. The Roches are the finest, most beautiful example of a VERY close, loving and strong family, those wacky guys, and they'll all make it through this I know.
Cheerio for now my lovies.