“Our greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.”
-William James
It’s getting to me: these frigid, snowless days of winter; the withdrawal of the sun. The lack of leaves and the certainty that this bleakness will last for months.
Luckily, there’s one thing that is always sure to brighten my December mood: Elementary school winter concerts. Why?
It’s not the holiday cheer, community vibes, earnest cuteness, or even the opportunity to dress all purty. It’s the clarinet. To me, there is nothing – nothing – as reliably hysterical as the randomly-plopped squeak of an amateur clarinet. Each squeak is like an unexpected tickle! The first school concert I attended as an adult, in fact, marks the only time I’ve laughed so hard I forcefully cried.
My kids both play the viola which is also hard to master but not nearly as funny. Amateur viola sends literal chills — the chalkboard kind — through my body, which is why I wore long johns to my son’s concert under my new favorite sweater.
My son has a knack for music and seems to love it; he freaks when we’re running late to early-morning chorus and orchestra lessons: “Shoes!!!!!” he’ll scream from the front door, in a stunning reversal of roles. “Shoes on!!!!!”
And so, last night, his first ever concert night, when we arrived at the school two minutes past our intended arrival time, he was greatly unnerved — launching himself out of the car before I’d even parked.
I shouted good luck then sat in the front seat doing makeup because some kids in his older sister’s grade had nominated me a ”Hot Mom” and I absolutely must achieve a similar feat in my son’s grade too, on behalf of my self-esteem, which appears to hinge largely on the opinions of fourth-graders. Vanity, though, is a responsible vice: two years ago I would’ve been doing my makeup in the parking lot while chugging Vodka Eggnogs.
So anyway, I’m plastering my nose with powder when my son calls from his big cousin’s phone. “Can you get my orchestra sheet music?” he asks, “I forgot it at home.”
Come onnnnn, I thought, frickin kids! I contemplated his request:
This was so annoying.
But also highly out of character for him.
But this was not my problem!
But my child is my problem.
But he needs to live with the consequences of his actions, or else he’ll never learn!!
But I don’t want to be a coldhearted mama.
But they’ve GOT to have extra sheet music there!!
But if I say no — if I tell him to figure it out on his own — then he’ll be overcome with fury, ruining the leadup to his first-ever concert experience, and I don’t want that to happen to my earnest, eager, completely stubborn and frustrating and hot-tempered loveable baby who will always be my Mama’s Boy mwah mwah mwah I love you handsome <333!!!
I decided I could, I would, forgo the eyeliner and my second round of concealer. (Motherhood is never-ending sacrifice!!)
I had just enough time for the complete turnaround, and only if the traffic stars aligned – which, turned out, they would not. I was crawling down Main Street when my husband called from his truck. “You don’t have time for this!” he squawked, ”This is ridiculous! You’re gonna be late!”
“And how does this affect you!?” I demanded, my nerves now doubly piqued.
But Mr. Never-Wrong was right: I made it back four minutes past scheduled showtime. Now, I’m no stranger to being late to school but this instance of “being late” was hitting hard. I rushed to the stage, but stopped at the door. There he was: my son, already on the risers with his chorus-mates, smack dab in the middle of a positively precious rendition of ”The Candyman.”
“The candyman cann,” they sang, “The candyman cannn, the candyman can, cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste goooooood.”
Unbelievably, he seemed to know all the words. I hadn't been sure he would know all the words because my focus had been on helping him practice “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music because, when he’d performed a preview concert for me and my mom the week prior, it had become apparent he didn’t know any of the lyrics beyond “raindrops and roses,” since instead of actually singing he‘d just opened his mouth and mumbled non-words while moving his teeth from side to side, as if demonstrating his jawbone agility for the dentist!
But here he was, singing the right words — with joy and, even, radiance!! And he was so gosh-darn cute: He was bopping with a BFF to the beat; these two relentlessly-sporty boys singing and bopping with purpose and care. And I wanted to be a bitch, a self-centered bitch, because of all those times he’d tortured me with early morning madness — only to make me miss the first half of his first song and forgo my last pass of makeup! And now I’d never know: Just what can the Candyman do??? The Candyman can WHAT???
I wanted to tantrum like usual because someone has to pay for my discomfort, and if I didn’t take my anger out on him, then whom would I take it out on? My mind flashed to the neverending effort I put into mothering him; to the chalkboard chills I’d endured; then to his little hand just barely maneuvering his horsehair bow; and then – but then, to the gleam in his eyes when he’d mastered “Deidel, Dreidel, Dreidel” on his viola.
And with that, my mind flashed to a quote I’ve read 75% of days over the past five years — a quote printed on indestructible plastic pages (the only remaining portion of a custom planner I’d blown $67 on and never used) – a quote by Her Majesty, Oprah Winfrey: “The greatest discovery of all time,” Oprah purportedly said, “is that a person can change their future by merely changing their attitude.”
From the concert doorway, I studied my son’s sweet innocence. And I decided to change my attitude.
I willed it. And it was simple! (Hard, but simple!) I did it by refocusing my thoughts.
Our minds: they’re like Christmas starbursts, where our “selves” are at the center and every possible mood is like a different point on the star. Neat thing is, by shifting your train of thought to an alternate branch of the starburst, you can reach a different point on the star -- a better mood and attitude!
The trick is to change which thoughts you focus on; which thoughts you give your attention to; which line of thought you feed.
In that doorway, witnessing my son sing, I shifted my attention with all of my might: First I paid attention to how darling my son looked, bopping. Then, to how proud I was of him for being up there on that stage. Then I reminded myself how selfish I’d be to eat up the air. Then I admired his legitimately-superlative jawbone agility! And then — I swear it, I did — I thought of my favorite things… and suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad. (Ba dum, ching!)
Because I set an intention to reach a different attitude and focused on happier thoughts, I got to rejoice in the children’s voices while smiling amongst family and friends. I got to laugh tastelessly loud at the clarinet. I got to savor a loving, open heart, and a whole different type of chills.
댓글