Ramona's Mother

Last night, the Matron saw Ramona Quimby for the second time.  Alone.  

She had an excellent center seat, five rows in.  Perfect!  

As she was settling in, Much Ado transpired.  A young mother with four wee ones in tow (the youngest a baby) appeared next to her, confused about seating.

Young mother to the Matron and four people next to her:  "I think you're all in my seats?"

Within a few minutes, a dozen people were attempting to figure out why so many people had tickets for the same seats until the ever-observant Matron peered at the young mother's tickekts and deployed her doctoral skills:  "Why, your tickets are for Wednesday night,  not Thursday."

That poor mama brought her children to the wrong performance!   She practically burst into tears.  One of the children, did.  With two minutes to go until that curtain opened, the crowd stood frozen, deer in headlights all.   

Young Mother:  "I guess we'll just go, then."

Over the Matron's dead body.  That woman deserved a medal for getting out of the house with three children under seven AND a toddler (all with strong family resemblence).

An experienced audience member and General Control Feak (just ask Stryker), the Matron took quick command, noting that there were many available, open seats if people just ignored their assignment and scooted over.

Matron to those sitting in the disputed seats:  "Why, I'll move back one row to that seat.  If you two move down one and if your family shifts a seat, they can all sit together, here."

The Matron had to BATTLE two armies in order to enforce these last-minute decisions.  First, the young mother could not possibly allow the Matron to move BACK one row to a theoretically farther-away view (she's talking ten inches).  Second, the rest of the pack were hell-bent to be rule bound and anxious about moving out of their assigned seat.

Involved Audience Member Concerned about Moving:  "Are you sure it's okay?  How do you know so much?  Why don't you mind moving backwards?"

Matron:  "I've seen the show already.   And I know it's truly okay to move.   There's plenty of space.  Look -- even if someone comes in late and needs any of our seats, there are so many throughout the theatre and nearby. It's totally fine, I know it."

IAMCM previously mentioned:  "Why have you seen the show before?"

Matron:  "I have a child in the show.   I've been here enough to know that this kind of thing can happen -- it's no big deal."

IAMCM:  "Who is your child?"

Thirty seconds to go! The Young Mother looked positively panicked.  There was no way in the world the Matron was going to allow for the possibility that this woman and her children could not sit down.  

So she outed herself as Ramona's mother.

IAMCM:  "Remind me where you wanted me to move again?"

Why did she know this would work?  Thus established as a credible authority figure, the assembled patrons reassembled according to the Matronly design and that poor frazzled Mama was able to sit down in her good seats and watch the show.

And the Matron?   She got a completely unanticipated reward for her actions.   First, Scarlett's performance was about 100 times sharper than the performance from which these reviews were penned.   Coincidentally, the reviewed performance was the OTHER show the Matron saw, as well.  The Matron's not sure if time has been the ticket for her daughter or if the critics came on a down day.  

Regardless.    She was happy!

Scarlett has auditioned for three shows in three weeks and hasn't landed a role yet.  With just one role secured for next season, that child is genuinely worried.    That's the world the Matron is currently living in.   Between the new commercian work and the theatre, all of Scarlett's life is about showing up and asking:  "Please let me in!"

Which that child has shown a propensity to do, over and over, rejection after rejection, success, success, rejection and rejection again.  

So last night, the unexpected reward?   During intermission and after the show, all those theatre-goers showered the Matron with unfettered and genuine--slightly amazed--praise for her daughter.   In the midst of the rejections and critical reviews, the Matron let all the worries go and just enjoyed the show.  Really.

And the Young Mother said this, afterward, with feeling.  "Watching my own child up there?  I just can't imagine how that feels to see your daughter performing like that in front of hundreds of people!"

Last night?  Without her critic's hat or fear of the future, she was just Ramona's mother.  Present. And it felt terrific.