A word about pageants…
Generally, I have a problem with them. I think they teach children skewed values based solely on appearance. I think that if your kid wins, she will go through life thinking she is better than everyone else, and if she loses, she will grow up convinced she isn’t pretty. Regardless of who wears the crown, everyone loses. Plus, the kiddie pageants with fake teeth, huge hair and spray tans are step-back creepy. Seriously.
However, like everything in life, there are exceptions to this rule. And that exception is: Pageants are okay, as long as they’re funny. That’s why I have no problem with the Mrs. America Pageant, in which the married contestants are required to wear gigantic state-themed costumes. And that’s why I thought it was perfectly fine to enter my sweet son in the Wee Mister Strawberry pageant. He won, of course, because he has charisma AND beauty, and yes, it was hilarious. Especially when Miss Upstate South Carolina announced him…twice…as “Sam Slutz” instead of “Sam Schultz”. Everyone else was horror-struck, except, of course, for Husband and me, who laughed so hard we almost forgot to have him do his three-point turn. The flaw with the pageant was that Miss Upstate South Carolina (who, though dumber than a bag of avocados, was beautiful and wearing a sparkly tiara) was standing behind Sam, so he kept turning to look at her instead of the judges. He does love the ladies. But he charmed them, and stole the title, the crown, the trophy, the scepter (yes, scepter), the sash, and the savings bonds. His stage experience served him well as he waved to the judges with a winning, put-on shyness. And he didn’t mock the other children, which I thought was kind of him. So
now he’s a pageant baby. But I will only allow him to participate in pageants that will win him a hilarious title. Like Wee Mister Meatball, or the Baby Corndog King. After all, a girl’s gotta have standards.
Songs for a New World is over and done, the costumes piled up in my laundry room, waiting to be washed. It was an amazing experience. It was incredibly meaningful for me, being in the final show of FIRE’s first season. It’s hard for me to believe that I only met these people a year ago, and now they are such a huge part of my life. They are my family. They have watched my son learn to crawl, then to walk. It’s amazing to me how much my life has changed in the past year. It’s wonderful to have this place to be welcomed home. I love it that my son gets excited just getting out of the car
and realizing we’re in the parking lot, because he knows that this is the place full of music, laughter, and a lot of people who love him. People have said that it must be so hard for him to be carted to and from the theater all the time, and that it’s irresponsible to keep him out so late. But the truth is, I think it’s great for him. How many kids have the opportunity to be around amazing musicians, watching live performances by outstanding actors, dancers, and singers, and being allowed to play with the switches on the light board? It’s the best playground ever! It’s our home away from home. And it’s a good one.
Husband actually got to sit and watch the show Saturday night, which was new. I mean, he had been to several rehearsals and had stood in the back, holding Sam, on opening night, but he got to sit in a seat and just watch on Saturday. That was pretty cool. It never gets old for me, to see his face after a show. I love coming out of the Artists’ Entrance and seeing him, beaming at me. It means so much to me that he thinks I’m good. When so many people in my life won’t even ask how a show went, how rehearsals are going, or even feign interest in what I do, it’s amazing to have that support in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.
We went to Barnes and Noble last night, as we frequently do, to drink coffee and let Sam play with the trains. We had dinner with Mama N and Baby Girl and Company, and on the way home I decided that if I didn’t have a coffee posthaste I would probably die. Sam was playing with the trains, being all “I’m the cutest baby in the world,” and this KID, who was like FIVE, came over and gathered all the trains up in a pile and guarded them in the circle of his wiry five-year-old arms so that Sam couldn’t play with them. I think it shows remarkable restraint on my part that I didn’t push him down, and amazing cooperation skills on Sam’s part that left the trains and found a book to read. Well, turn the pages of. No fits, no crying, just a shrug of the sh
oulders and a “fuggedaboudit.” Good kid.
I’m pretty sure this Disney vacation planning DVD that arrived in the mail today (yes, our trip is planned for about a year from now, but it’s never too early to start) is making me cry a little. Cousin, Her Husband and Child just got back from Child’s first trip to the Happiest Place on Earth (or else) and the pictures are tooooo precious. I think it’s slowly killing Husband to have to wait till next summer to go. He’s jonesing for some Mickey. We’re sticking with an every-other-year Disney World pilgrimage plan, which I think is more than reasonable. The best year of Husband’s life, though, is when we went twice in three months. The year we got married, played Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing, drove to Key West in a haze of brand-new-in-loveness and our son was born? That year has nothing on the Year of Two Trips to Disney World. It’s weird, though, the power Disney World has over you. But, yeah, the PLANNING DVD is making me a little teary-eyed. It might be that I’m slightly doped up on a combination of Nyquil and Mucinex.
Anyhow...I must go tend to the needs of Wee Mister Strawberry. He's pretty demandi
ng of his subjects is all I'm saying...
Generally, I have a problem with them. I think they teach children skewed values based solely on appearance. I think that if your kid wins, she will go through life thinking she is better than everyone else, and if she loses, she will grow up convinced she isn’t pretty. Regardless of who wears the crown, everyone loses. Plus, the kiddie pageants with fake teeth, huge hair and spray tans are step-back creepy. Seriously.
However, like everything in life, there are exceptions to this rule. And that exception is: Pageants are okay, as long as they’re funny. That’s why I have no problem with the Mrs. America Pageant, in which the married contestants are required to wear gigantic state-themed costumes. And that’s why I thought it was perfectly fine to enter my sweet son in the Wee Mister Strawberry pageant. He won, of course, because he has charisma AND beauty, and yes, it was hilarious. Especially when Miss Upstate South Carolina announced him…twice…as “Sam Slutz” instead of “Sam Schultz”. Everyone else was horror-struck, except, of course, for Husband and me, who laughed so hard we almost forgot to have him do his three-point turn. The flaw with the pageant was that Miss Upstate South Carolina (who, though dumber than a bag of avocados, was beautiful and wearing a sparkly tiara) was standing behind Sam, so he kept turning to look at her instead of the judges. He does love the ladies. But he charmed them, and stole the title, the crown, the trophy, the scepter (yes, scepter), the sash, and the savings bonds. His stage experience served him well as he waved to the judges with a winning, put-on shyness. And he didn’t mock the other children, which I thought was kind of him. So
now he’s a pageant baby. But I will only allow him to participate in pageants that will win him a hilarious title. Like Wee Mister Meatball, or the Baby Corndog King. After all, a girl’s gotta have standards.Songs for a New World is over and done, the costumes piled up in my laundry room, waiting to be washed. It was an amazing experience. It was incredibly meaningful for me, being in the final show of FIRE’s first season. It’s hard for me to believe that I only met these people a year ago, and now they are such a huge part of my life. They are my family. They have watched my son learn to crawl, then to walk. It’s amazing to me how much my life has changed in the past year. It’s wonderful to have this place to be welcomed home. I love it that my son gets excited just getting out of the car
and realizing we’re in the parking lot, because he knows that this is the place full of music, laughter, and a lot of people who love him. People have said that it must be so hard for him to be carted to and from the theater all the time, and that it’s irresponsible to keep him out so late. But the truth is, I think it’s great for him. How many kids have the opportunity to be around amazing musicians, watching live performances by outstanding actors, dancers, and singers, and being allowed to play with the switches on the light board? It’s the best playground ever! It’s our home away from home. And it’s a good one.Husband actually got to sit and watch the show Saturday night, which was new. I mean, he had been to several rehearsals and had stood in the back, holding Sam, on opening night, but he got to sit in a seat and just watch on Saturday. That was pretty cool. It never gets old for me, to see his face after a show. I love coming out of the Artists’ Entrance and seeing him, beaming at me. It means so much to me that he thinks I’m good. When so many people in my life won’t even ask how a show went, how rehearsals are going, or even feign interest in what I do, it’s amazing to have that support in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.
We went to Barnes and Noble last night, as we frequently do, to drink coffee and let Sam play with the trains. We had dinner with Mama N and Baby Girl and Company, and on the way home I decided that if I didn’t have a coffee posthaste I would probably die. Sam was playing with the trains, being all “I’m the cutest baby in the world,” and this KID, who was like FIVE, came over and gathered all the trains up in a pile and guarded them in the circle of his wiry five-year-old arms so that Sam couldn’t play with them. I think it shows remarkable restraint on my part that I didn’t push him down, and amazing cooperation skills on Sam’s part that left the trains and found a book to read. Well, turn the pages of. No fits, no crying, just a shrug of the sh
oulders and a “fuggedaboudit.” Good kid.I’m pretty sure this Disney vacation planning DVD that arrived in the mail today (yes, our trip is planned for about a year from now, but it’s never too early to start) is making me cry a little. Cousin, Her Husband and Child just got back from Child’s first trip to the Happiest Place on Earth (or else) and the pictures are tooooo precious. I think it’s slowly killing Husband to have to wait till next summer to go. He’s jonesing for some Mickey. We’re sticking with an every-other-year Disney World pilgrimage plan, which I think is more than reasonable. The best year of Husband’s life, though, is when we went twice in three months. The year we got married, played Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing, drove to Key West in a haze of brand-new-in-loveness and our son was born? That year has nothing on the Year of Two Trips to Disney World. It’s weird, though, the power Disney World has over you. But, yeah, the PLANNING DVD is making me a little teary-eyed. It might be that I’m slightly doped up on a combination of Nyquil and Mucinex.
Anyhow...I must go tend to the needs of Wee Mister Strawberry. He's pretty demandi
ng of his subjects is all I'm saying...
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