Be At Peace Baby Girl

Almost 14  years ago, my beautiful little gray cat Lexi, died suddenly from a brain aneurysm and I was shattered. I didn’t think I’d get another cat for a while; I knew I’d never be able to replace her and I was just too heartbroken. Yet just a few weeks later, while home sick from work, sniffling on the coach and flipping through TV channels, I came upon a show produced by our local Humane Society to encourage adoption of their dogs and cats.

And there, nestled calmly in the presenters arms, was “Gizmo”. A petite brown and tan tabby, something about her little pixie face and luminous green eyes captured my heart right away. Soon I was throwing on a pair of jeans and driving to the shelter to bring her home.

We renamed her Beamer and she settled in quickly. She was so soft, so sweet. Estimated by the vet to be about two years old, she liked playing with stuffed mice and happily buddied up with Sadie. She liked to sleep next to me (and sometimes on my head) and would wake me in the morning with “love pats” to my face. She was gentle and quiet and stoic when more cats and a curious little boy joined our household.

Over the past few months, Beamer started having health issues. Tests and x-rays strongly suggested cancer. While she began to lose weight and occasionally pass blood, she was still cheerful, and regular visits to the vet for fluids and meds kept her going for a bit. A month ago she had a rough weekend and I tearfully set up an appointment to take her in one last time. Yet when we arrived at the vet’s she seemed to perk up, wanting to explore the office, and I found myself sobbing and thinking it wasn’t time to let her go. I’m grateful for the amazing, compassionate Dr. Mazzochette at Airpark Animal Hospital who gently told me she would euthanize Beamer if that was my decision, confirmed that we were indeed nearing the end, but that perhaps we should try one last steroid shot. I agreed, and Beamer had a really good 3 weeks, eating like a little machine and getting lots of love and attention.

But yesterday morning, I knew it was time. She’d been so special for us all. She’d fought long and hard. She was tired. So we went again to see Dr. M. I held her close as the calming medication took effect, stroking her head and thanking her for being such a good girl. For helping to patch my heart all those years ago. Owen gave her a kiss and told her he loved her. And then, the final shot, and sweet Beamer was gone.

On the short drive home, the Proclaimers “I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles”) played on the radio; a song my beloved Pop-Pop liked. And I knew he was telling me that he had welcomed her, and would hold her close in heaven.

The Stage's The Thing!

I think one of the most important lessons in parenting is fully embracing (and I mean acknowledging, accepting and celebrating) that your child is not you. His or her tastes, personality, and interests will be uniquely their own. Sure, nurture plays a part and maybe your offspring will be your mini me in many ways big and small. But in the end, nature always wins, and that's a wonderful and glorious thing. Sounds pretty simple and easy doesn't it? But as evidenced by pushy stage moms and hard-driving dad coaches (or, in the bigger picture, by parents not accepting of their kids' life choices), if we're being honest, it can be a challenge.

Owen played baseball for 5 years. I loved it. Although never much of an athlete myself, I am super competitive and love watching sports, so I was more than happy sitting in the bleachers cheering, and then being the Diamondback team mom. Bob was an excellent athlete growing up and I know he really enjoyed the experience too. And while he liked playing, this year when I asked Owen about signing up, he said "no thanks". I guess I could have registered him anyway and he would have been okay with it, but the truth is that Owen is not a natural athlete. He doesn't have the inclination nor desire to practice throwing, catching or batting for hours each week, and I think he recognizes it's not one of his strengths. To me, making him play wouldn't be respecting and honoring Owen. 

But, while I do listen to what Owen wants, I also think it's important that kids are involved in some activities besides school (and video games). Enter stage right ... acting. Why? Well, Owen has always seemed to enjoy making up scenarios where he's taking on another role. When we watched "Storage Wars" a few years ago, he liked to stand in front of us and be the auctioneer. Anyone who's been around him in the last year or so knows his penchant for pretending to be a WWE wrestler - complete with choreographed moves and voice overs. Once he started to write a play, and the boy does love to dress in costume. So, while not exactly overwhelming evidence of a budding Oscar winner, I decided maybe theater might be his "thing", or at least something he didn't hate doing.

So I signed him up for the local Arts Center's children's production of "Sleeping Beauty" and took a somewhat hesitant Owen to his first practice in the beginning of March. He didn't audition for a speaking role, so I was quite surprised when after practice one night I learned the director had asked him if he wanted to play Young Prince Phillip and have three lines (well, two lines and an "accckkkk") and Owen had accepted. He was pretty nonchalant about his new role, but liked knowing he'd be wearing a cape and crown.

Fast forward to last Friday night. I think Bob and I were far more nervous than Owen for his stage debut. Would he freeze up when he looked out and saw a packed house? Would he remember his lines and would anyone actually be able to hear him? On the car ride to the theater Owen wondered aloud if he should say his lines in a different voice each show; I crossed my fingers and told him to use his best judgment as an actor (and thought to myself, yep, this could be very, um, entertaining).

My friend Missy and I had volunteered to be backstage moms, which meant we got to goof around with the props before the show and then stand in the wings to watch the production. And when the cast finally made it's first appearance on stage, I had a great view of Owen.

I watched with a bursting-with-joy heart as our Young Prince Phillip joined the Royal Family on it's dais, singing the opening number with a huge smile on his face. Owen looked absolutely thrilled! He nailed his lines then ran off stage for a costume change and to wait to rejoin the cast for the final number and take a bow.  

 

In typical Owen fashion, he wasn't bouncing off the walls like many of the actors post performance; in fact, I was probably more hyped up than him. But he seemed pretty pleased with the fact that two girls from school had come up to him in the lobby afterward and told him he did a good job, and he was happy - just calmly, "this feels right, this feels good" - happy. 

I don't know how much further the acting bug will take him. He did tell me that for his next play he thinks he wants more lines, and when asked he rated the whole thing a 9 out of 10 on a scale of how much he enjoyed it. I've found a theater group in Charlotte and he's said he'd like to go to one of their summer camps. I'll obviously have to learn more about this whole theater thing; it's a whole new language for me and it's certainly different than youth sports. Luckily I have my cousin Brenda and dear friend Amanda (who both have incredibly talented actors in their family) to help me get the lay of the land.

Yes, I still miss baseball. But, seeing Owen shine this weekend in something I think he truly enjoys is a million times better - for all of us. Challenge accepted, lesson learned, and Bravo!