Same holiday, different year

Tonight is Lil E's co-op Christmas program. In preparation, the kids have a half day so that mommies have two extra hours to convince them to put on photo-op holiday clothes and product in their hair. All of this so that when thousands of photos and streaming digital camera video are shot of the wee performers on the sanctuary "stage," the lovely back-lighting from the stained glass windows will completely black out their little bodies all decorated in bows and embroidered scottie dogs, so that only a shadow of their sobbing or distracted faces will be outlined.

Do you see the little angels? Exactly.

The sanctuary, which of course is just beyond a large and bright gym with an actual stage, is perhaps not the best venue for the classrooms of children singing hymns and carols for their proud parents.

But there is a big and impressive sound-board in the
back and the wide aisle down the middle makes for a sweet and funny
parade of children to the tune of flash light and "Moooooommmmmmy" wails and shrieks. 

The
thing about not being able to take good photos or
slightly-resting-on-below-standard video of the three-year olds in
reindeer antlers or the babies from the nursery who are ringing jingle
bells in as many tempos or the five-year olds shouting the words to
some Jesus-meets-Santa made-up song no one has ever heard before is
that it makes the moment.

It makes the moment just that
moment. And it forces parents to shrug shoulders or sigh about the
lighting and then sit the cameras down and just listen to the kids.
Just smile at their daughters and sons and grandchildren in front of
them, singing or not singing, grabbing at their tiny knit ties and
glittery tights, sitting down on the steps to the altar stage or
standing tall in each and every lyric. To me, there is so much more to
it because I will be seeking out my boy with my eyes and ears and not a
lens.

Last year, Lil E stood in the center of the stage and sang
his heart out while the younger kids from the nursery danced or sat or
toddled down to their parents in the pews. And when their number was
over, he ran back to us, stood up beside me and sang all the words to
all the songs the older kids in other classrooms performed. I was
alight with all that he was that night.

Tonight, no matter how
much he sings or how many kids accompany him, I will soak up the moment
again. It will be different. This year, there is the negotiation of Lil
E's Daddy, who I hope will sit next to me just for our boy and despite
whatever awkwardness and tension sifts between the two of us. And this
year, that boy will carry with him onto the stage far more complex
emotions and an armful of independence and shyness than he had
last December. This year, he may not shake at the sight of Santa during
the crazed potluck following the program. And there will probably not
be family photos snapped of the three of us, snuggled up in the
coziness of this kid, all jingle bells and winter wonderlands.

But
this year, I will still have eyes and ears and attention set on Lil E
as he descends into the sanctuary with the other wandering, practiced,
holidayed and PullUp-ed children. And when it is his turn, I will put
down my camera and fix myself on him.

I will think of what he
said to me in the car the other day, as we turned on to my parents'
street after a morning of Christmas shopping and "Mommy and Lil E time."

"Mommy," he said decisively from the car seat and over Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree on the radio, "you know...it's been a really long time since I've been on a real real stage."

"Yes, baby, it has," I said back to him. "It's been since the last program."

That
timing is surreal.  It was just yesterday that I clipped him into black
corduroy overalls and a crisp shirt and settled him into the nursery
until his show time entry.   And yet, a lifetime has passed between
that night and tonight when I will fit him into a longer-sized pair of
black corduroy overalls and a crisp shirt before I hold his hand up to
the three-year old room until their show time entry.

One thing's
the same -- the kid. That boy, who I imagine will make his way center
stage again, will sing steadily and with eyes to the audience.  And his
Daddy and I will be there, not in the same way but with the same great
love and pride that overcomes the camera and the divorce and the
craziness of it all.

Comments

[zoe]

sometimes i wonder what i miss while trying to take the perfect picture...thank you for showing me. i hope the pagent went well and you were able to make it through the evening with out shoving your x down a flight of stairs...by accident of course.