Sunday, February 10, 2008

Stage Mother . . . .

has other children.

Merrick once offered Scarlett's bedroom to his best friend, Lachlan: "Scarlett lives in a play, Lachlan. You can sleep here."

Although his whole life is about keeping up with the big kids (who have 4 and 6 years on him), his battleground is minutiae: who has the best banana, latest bedtime, last marshmallow. Big Gun sibling wars--self-identity, parental preference--haven't yet erupted.

Plus, he's my baby! Hey, you big kids: give Merrick the best banana, the latest bedtime (wink, wink), the last marshmallow! This guy gets coddled. Position, secure.

Stryker plays on an entirely different field and knows it: "I am openly jealous of Scarlett. I actually feel like I hate her sometimes."

Here are the Cliff notes: Scarlett gets all the attention. Never gets into trouble. Gets to skip chores because of rehearsals. Misses weeks of school. Makes a lot more money than dog-walking or babysitting. Might be famous. Has found Life Passion. Gets all the attention. All the attention. Attention.

When his eyes opened on Friday (opening night), he started producing a steady stream of this: "I hate plays. Plays are stupid. Can I bring a book. I'm not going. You can't make me. Scarlett is stupid. You guys are torturing me. You must hate me."

Still, his complaints were backdrop. Tenor, muted. Behavior at the actual Tortuous Event Itself, excellent.

The performance was perhaps the best children's theater I've ever seen. I was floored (even with Bias firmly in hand). My daughter cried on stage. Real tears. She was casually cruel as the overseer's daughter, whose quite conscious silence means that her best friend--a slave--is brutally whipped. The entire cast radiated. It was raw, powerful, transporting.

At the cast party, because I remain genuinely surprised over--and slightly skeptical of--Scarlett's theatrical inclinations, I had to ask the director and stage manager: How's she doing?



Well.

This stage mother felt foolish, like she went digging for compliments. The director, stage manager, and choreographer offered commentary on Amazing Natural Talent and Big Career Coming that would be untoward to reproduce here. Detailed and enthusiastic observation, with names dropped and new Opportunity, mentioned.

Well.

As the van door closes for our ride home, Stryker instantaneously becomes the most evil, wretched, rude and cruel child on the planet. He is a Demon.

"I hate this family. That play sucked. You suck, Scarlett."

Every comment, threat, and attempt to calm was met with one of these dark bullets: I wish I had different parents, can't wait to move out, hope Scarlett falls and breaks an actual leg, want some fairness in this house, wish Merrick would get punished for what he does, think my mother and father suck, will never do chores again and SO ON.

He was so vile that once home, I ordered him to his bedroom --till noon the following day!

Of course, it was already well past bedtime, so it wasn't long before I had to face Demon again to say good-night. He was in bed, on the same soundtrack.

But he offered this special stanza: "My life is torture--and I heard every single word that guy said about Scarlett. Why does everybody think she's so great, so special?"

The word 'special' popped out in a blaze of glitter and phlegm, so dark, so solid and bitter that it bounced off the walls and hit me.

Aha! Origin of the Demon, noted.

Before I could tell Demon how absolutely great, how special he was, he barricaded himself in an ice cold voice: "Mom, I have something to tell you."

Ominous tone? Understatement.

Me: "Remember, words can cause real damage. I'd think very carefully first."

Demon (calmly, with a sense of reflection and peace): "Oh, I've thought about this for a long, long time and I'm ready, no doubt about it. Mom, I never thought it would come to this. I don't love you anymore. I genuinely don't. Sorry."

Dagger! Excellent aim, exacting delivery! Target down!

I walked away without a word. Took a few deep breaths. Got a little teary. Spent a few minutes debriefing with the spousal unit.

Then, I went back upstairs, popped open the door to his dark room and said into that sweet, lonely silence: "Good-night, babe. I'm sorry you had such a rough time and I love you so, so much."

Stage mother. Sometimes the real story is the one nobody sees.

18 comments:

Heather said...

Ouch. That's harsh!

Sounds like someone needs his special talent brought out and openly admired. Because everyone has one. I know it.

Peggy Sez.. said...

OMG...Where have I been? You've been pounding out all theses great posts and I almost missed them.I now have to go back and reread each one...just in case I missed something.LOL

P.S. Sorry the Demon is staying at your house..I thought he lived here. ;p

Peggy Sez.. said...

P.S.S. I added you to my blog roll if thats ok!

Liv said...

ooof! that's an ouchy right to stage mumma's heart. and really, it's making me wonder how my sibs felt about me, getting hauled around from television set to movie set all those years. ouch.

Anonymous said...

This is such a really tough sceanario - sibling jealousy is surprisingly virulent sometimes and with Scarlett's talent being so obvious and all the attention she is getting right now and for Stryker to have that male dark/moody temperament with prepuperty somewhere mixed in - it might be worth a call to a certain ECFE guru :./

Anonymous said...

Poor Stryker, and patient you. I am sure his talent is coming soon. Maybe a special day with Mom & Stryker?

Suburban Correspondent said...

Poor baby - tell him I think he's special, all right. He is in a hard spot - not the budding actress, not the baby...take heart, though - for this too shall pass. And you'll muddle through just like we all do.

Also, is he 11? Things start getting hard for boys around 11.

Angel said...

ohmygod.....that breaks my heart. Kids can be so cruel to the very people who love them the most. My kids have never told me they hate me, tho I'm sure there have been times when they wanted to say it! But I HAVE said it to MY mother.....and now I see how hard that had to hurt her. OUCH>

give the Demon a hug for me, huh? ;)

Anonymous said...

I read this. And I read the comments. I pondered. I reread the post. I pondered again. When I clicked on post a comment, it had gone from 3 comments to 8. Now that's some pondering.

Stryker, you know, it DOES suck. You have every reason to feel jealous, angry, sad, ignored, mistreated. Totally. I know I'd feel like that, and I am almost thirty. It's human nature lad, well done for expressing that so honestly. One day, maybe soon, maybe not, you will feel a little bad about saying that to Mom, but it's okay. Us moms know that sometimes when we are hurting so bad we want to make someone else hurt. We understand that, and we forgive easily, because moms love their kids unconditionally. Stryker, perhaps it's only some stupid old lady down here at the bottom of the world who thinks you ROCK and are special, but I do, I swear. And if all else fails, keep a record of all those times Scarlett embarrasses herself, if she makes it big, you've totally got blackmailing power. Not that I'd condone that of course ;)

Anonymous said...

Dear Stryker,

Please know that Scarlett couldn't possibly be as talented as she is if she didn't have you to imitate, learn from and generally adore during her pre-stage and offstage life. Theatre isn't as important as it seems everyone thinks it is. And you aren't any less important because you're not a part of it. Stronger people just simply don't NEED as much attention. You must be an incredibly strong person. Scarlett and Merrick will always need your strength. They look to you to understand the world for them and I'm sorry that important job doesn't always come with applause, constant praise, or even the slightest attention sometimes but strong people simply don't NEED it.

love, josey

Anonymous said...

Oh, and Mary?

Feeling your pain, big ((hugs)). Great job :)xxxx

Minnesota Matron said...

Josey: You are Love incarnate. Thank you!

Liv: I'm sure your sibs harbor deep resentment, or they've been paid off?

HippyHappyHay: You know, you're right. It does suck and we're all muddling along, trying to find the THING that makes us. Who doesn't want a bit of fame and glory?

SuburbanC: You nailed it. He's twelve in July.

Oy. That road ahead.

Thanks for the great helpful and encouraging words. The irony of this and Stryker's angst? I post more about him than any other child because he's just THAT interesting and complex.

But I'm not sure how quantifying blob posts will help us here. . . .

Mrs. G. said...

I'm not sure if I would have laughed (to myself) or cried...it could have gone either way. I think you handled it so well. I guess since my kids are older, I am especially in tune to the pressing of buttons and a little more hardened. But I still remember the first "I hate you!"

Tootsie Farklepants said...

Do you need a hug?

Karen said...

Poor Stryker! He's just aching with pain--I know you know this, but he really didn't mean it. Bipolarlawyercook has good advice--you'd both probably feel better if you had a special Stryker & Mom day/adventure.

Anonymous said...

Poor kid. That's so hard. And he's getting on that awful age and to be sort of shunted off while one gets accolades and one gets spoiled (I know too well, my youngest is TERRIBLE spoiled rotten and coddled)...well, you're doing good and I know it'll work out OK. Love to you, though, while you muck through his emotions and sort out a good response. (At least you SEE where it's coming from--how many other mothers would be blind to it?)

Anonymous said...

Ouch. If Scarlett's performance is as good as the reviews would indicate, Stryker may even be feeling fear. Fear that the entire family dynamic will change.

Poor fellow...but bravo, Scarlett!

Beth said...

Well, kids certainly know exactly what buttons to push.
Wise move, Mom, to respond with an, "I love you," after recovering from the blow.
It can be so difficult getting them to understand how each of them is special - their perceptions can be so off - but very real to them.