Dear Reader,
It's that time again when I enjoy immersing myself in the turbulent waters of stage & singing until only my nostrils remain visible above the surface and my children start to invert their usual behavior patterns by pushing past me to ask Mr Life After Law to fulfil their every despotic whim.
Yes: SHOW TIME! Which means I have been imagining that I am actually in the Biz for real by swanning about during the day "resting" (ie ignoring the -to me- unacceptable level of misfiling of kitchen utensils and bedroom floor clothes hanging) so that I have all my faculties about me each evening when I transport myself to another time and place and wear an improbably large wig while singing about love interests swapped at birth.....I am, however, assured by Actual Proper Singers that the swanning about all day is not a luxury available to those who do earn their crust by singing for their suppers!
Mr Life After Law is now officially and permanently to be known as World's Best Husband for parental fortitude above and beyond the call of duty. Due to a slightly longer than usual commute to the theatre, WBH has been engaging the enemy (Operation Bedtime) on land, sea and in the air - battle-weary yet triumphant he and the children have emerged into the pale light of a new entente cordiale in which I promise not to go off singing at bedtime for a little bit.
Usually the end of show week is marked by a terrible case of post-show blues, which in its most severe manifestation led, recently, to the creation of Random Opera Company by friend and fellow blogger baritone, Richard Jones - I may have egged him on every so slightly.
However, this year, thanks to the promise/threat of future engagements and the learning of repertoire required, I'm not feeling too much like the fun is all over. Time to banish the old from my brain and embrace the new, which thanks to the ready availability of recordings I can start in the length of time it takes to say "one click ordering"......so here we go.Handel, and Mozart and Bizet, Oh My!
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Monday, 23 January 2012
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Barbara or Margot? A bit of frivolous nonsensery.......
Ok, so just asking this question dates me. If you, like me, grew up watching and loving the antics of Tom, Barbara, Margot and Jerry then you are a Seventies baby!
(If you didn't then click here to find out more or even watch a clip on the ubiquitous YouTube!)
Anyway over the (seemingly now finally gone) summer a love of gardening welled up within me and I seem to have discovered surprisingly green fingers. I have long owned a book on keeping chickens but fear that my precious veggie crops would be ruthlessly marauded by my fictional chickens, leaving the garden looking as if it had fallen victim to unusually precise and anti-vegetable napalm strikes. I have started thinking about what and when to plant for next "season"....hampered only by my ignorance about different types of plants or their care but I really really really like planting stuff and watching it grow. And then, preferably, eating it. (I proudly presented a guest with a beautiful lettuce and herb salad only to be appalled when a small but unmistakeable caterpillar made a sprightly break for freedom from the depths of the salad bowl. Needless to say she had already eaten her portion, but, made of stern stuff, she didn't even flicker.)
The financial benefits are undoubted - given my "retirement" from law and the Boy's current carrot crunching obsession I better start intensive cultivation of root veg! The anti-stress benefits seem to work for all of us too. But, I just like gardening, I even occasionally listen to Gardeners QT.......
I plant things at the wrong times, I put them in the wrong places, I don't really know what I am doing. I am relaxed and nonchalant in wellies at all times. I aspire to livestock. I'd quite like to put veggie crops on the front garden (this appalled more Margot-ish types, and raised the question of that most unspeakable of crimes: vegetable theft!!)
I am, clearly, a Barbara. But then again, on stage singing opera in as big a frock and as much bling as possible, I do channel my inner Margot. Do you think anyone would notice if I had wellies under my posh frock.....
(If you didn't then click here to find out more or even watch a clip on the ubiquitous YouTube!)
Anyway over the (seemingly now finally gone) summer a love of gardening welled up within me and I seem to have discovered surprisingly green fingers. I have long owned a book on keeping chickens but fear that my precious veggie crops would be ruthlessly marauded by my fictional chickens, leaving the garden looking as if it had fallen victim to unusually precise and anti-vegetable napalm strikes. I have started thinking about what and when to plant for next "season"....hampered only by my ignorance about different types of plants or their care but I really really really like planting stuff and watching it grow. And then, preferably, eating it. (I proudly presented a guest with a beautiful lettuce and herb salad only to be appalled when a small but unmistakeable caterpillar made a sprightly break for freedom from the depths of the salad bowl. Needless to say she had already eaten her portion, but, made of stern stuff, she didn't even flicker.)
The financial benefits are undoubted - given my "retirement" from law and the Boy's current carrot crunching obsession I better start intensive cultivation of root veg! The anti-stress benefits seem to work for all of us too. But, I just like gardening, I even occasionally listen to Gardeners QT.......
I plant things at the wrong times, I put them in the wrong places, I don't really know what I am doing. I am relaxed and nonchalant in wellies at all times. I aspire to livestock. I'd quite like to put veggie crops on the front garden (this appalled more Margot-ish types, and raised the question of that most unspeakable of crimes: vegetable theft!!)
I am, clearly, a Barbara. But then again, on stage singing opera in as big a frock and as much bling as possible, I do channel my inner Margot. Do you think anyone would notice if I had wellies under my posh frock.....
Thursday, 13 October 2011
Ten Year Goggles......
Now as the sort of person who likes to plan IN DETAIL for the short, medium and long term, I've been learning recently that letting go of those sort of planning paroxysms is healthy, liberating - in fact necessary. I can get so caught up in The Plan that I forget to enjoy the moment, miss slightly unexpected opportunities and feel anxious when the plans go awry!
Of course I had an excellent "ten year plan" as a student: Law degree (check), Solicitors exams (check), training contract (check) - so far so good, six years accounted for. This tied in with my life plans - marriage at 25 (check), children (check, two by age 30 - one of each, extra symmetry!).
And really that is where the planning paralysis set in. Having children is such a leap into the unexpected for all parents, let alone when autism is part of the package. Adapting to today requires a certain amount of taking your beady eye off tomorrow . My faith helps me do this, but my old habits of agonising about next year, three years, ten years etc are hard to break and if I don't stamp down on those thoughts, I know I am heading for a dizzying, relentless turbine of anxiety-generation. (Gaviscon anyone).
In addition it's easy when you are faced with challenging circumstances to become defined by overcoming them. At times like that you need perspective, and to push the horizon back out again to include all the wonderful opportunities that are still available to you and the unexpected triumphs, pleasures and diversions that await you. And this, in turn, enables you to enjoy all the rewards and pleasures that are already in your day to day with you but that you have started to overlook. The joy of life with small children, and of their wonder at the world (combined with their brutal honesty......). Sometimes looking at the bigger picture enables you to rediscover some of the smaller detail! To allow yourself to just stop and smell the roses (or, as the case may be, blow bubbles)
And so, recently, someone told me to put my "ten year goggles" back on!(*) To contemplate and look at the bigger picture, including the stuff that could be down the line in my future, including the domesticity that is currently an overwhelming part of my job description, but not solely restricted to that. Self-expression, personal growth, fulfilment, achievement and, yes, singing. I love it and it is a key stress management, brain training exercise as well as a huge part of how I express my faith too.
I am and will always be mummy, but I am also and will always be......me. I don't lose myself in parenting or in dealing with autism, I bring myself to all of those situations, but it has taken a little bit of perspective to rediscover that truth.
So thank you, wise friend, for reminding me to continue to be me as well as being mummy.
I'm off to blow bubbles on the trampoline.
(PS: in my head ten-year goggles look exactly like a WW2 flying helmet & goggles - Mr LAL's influence you see, all is history)
(*) and also to get hold of a cheap tea-set - equally valuable advice.
Of course I had an excellent "ten year plan" as a student: Law degree (check), Solicitors exams (check), training contract (check) - so far so good, six years accounted for. This tied in with my life plans - marriage at 25 (check), children (check, two by age 30 - one of each, extra symmetry!).
And really that is where the planning paralysis set in. Having children is such a leap into the unexpected for all parents, let alone when autism is part of the package. Adapting to today requires a certain amount of taking your beady eye off tomorrow . My faith helps me do this, but my old habits of agonising about next year, three years, ten years etc are hard to break and if I don't stamp down on those thoughts, I know I am heading for a dizzying, relentless turbine of anxiety-generation. (Gaviscon anyone).
In addition it's easy when you are faced with challenging circumstances to become defined by overcoming them. At times like that you need perspective, and to push the horizon back out again to include all the wonderful opportunities that are still available to you and the unexpected triumphs, pleasures and diversions that await you. And this, in turn, enables you to enjoy all the rewards and pleasures that are already in your day to day with you but that you have started to overlook. The joy of life with small children, and of their wonder at the world (combined with their brutal honesty......). Sometimes looking at the bigger picture enables you to rediscover some of the smaller detail! To allow yourself to just stop and smell the roses (or, as the case may be, blow bubbles)
And so, recently, someone told me to put my "ten year goggles" back on!(*) To contemplate and look at the bigger picture, including the stuff that could be down the line in my future, including the domesticity that is currently an overwhelming part of my job description, but not solely restricted to that. Self-expression, personal growth, fulfilment, achievement and, yes, singing. I love it and it is a key stress management, brain training exercise as well as a huge part of how I express my faith too.
I am and will always be mummy, but I am also and will always be......me. I don't lose myself in parenting or in dealing with autism, I bring myself to all of those situations, but it has taken a little bit of perspective to rediscover that truth.
So thank you, wise friend, for reminding me to continue to be me as well as being mummy.
I'm off to blow bubbles on the trampoline.
(PS: in my head ten-year goggles look exactly like a WW2 flying helmet & goggles - Mr LAL's influence you see, all is history)
(*) and also to get hold of a cheap tea-set - equally valuable advice.
Sunday, 6 February 2011
Sunday Best
Today is the "day of rest" - or is it! Do any of us really stop what we are doing on Sundays. At least lots of Lawyers are given the day off........unless you work at one of the firms where the building never closes, the seats never cool and there is a typing pool on permanent standby! And if you don't, you probably still have access to your email at least via remote access or that accessory beloved of many Lawyers - the Blackberry!!
In fact most jobs don't really stop on Sunday, do they (and yes, you are right, I am now going to point out that parenting is a 24/7 job with a saintly and ever so slightly martyred air - feel free to blow raspberries.)
Sunday is however that little bit calmer for us - we've always had a nice Sunday routine. Way back, as commuting long-distance relationship Law-Beginners the Sunday lunch routine was indeed a sacred space for us to just, well, be! Be normal, be together, be in the potential of what we both hoped our relationship would become......domesticated and unified. Plus of course we have a vicar in the Family, so Sunday has, for as long as I have been with Mr LAL, included worship (and tea and biscuits!).
(Hi my name is "Not a Lawyer Anymore" and I am...........................a Christian. It's been fifteen years since I started following that bloke who said cryptic radical things about Life the Universe and Everything. If Jesus was on Twitter what would his posts have looked like? "@Judas, not cool...." But I digress).
For our little nuclear family, our faith is like the wallpaper on the pc desktop - there underneath whatever other application is running (School Run Carnage, Housework Blitz, Money Madness, Homework Puzzle, SingStar etc etc). My faith is one of the constants that links my life Before Escape (BE) with my Life After Law, apart from, of course, Mr Life After Law (who has loved/put up with me through both!) - in fact the two things combine (no, Mr LAL is not a vicar, although as above we've got one in the Family).
Regular worship and Sunday school are part of our routine and provide unique opportunities to grapple with answering the impossible and or awkward questions for which very small children have a particular gift. Most children seem to take the parts of Christianity that come attached to festivals that include gift giving and chocolate (Virgin Birth, Resurrection) in their stride. However they are given to asking much simpler and yet impossible questions like "If the Church is God's house, where does He sleep". (Answer: as an omnipotent Deity, anywhere He likes?!)
So did my faith make any difference to my decision to "jack it all in" - well of course, yes. Through friends at church I had a great circle of women (if you're reading this and you know you were in it, thank you) who loved me through the very painful process of realising that something I had invested so much of my life and energy in just wasn't working out (many tears).
But of course I have family and friends - and colleagues - who may or may not have a Christian faith but are wise and awesome and loving and who also did the same thing (thank you too) and from whom I had nothing but encouragement and support.
The biggest thing for me now is that I have faith that there is some sort of Plan (and that I followed it by giving up work) and that things will, broadly, be OK! This faith is incredibly sustaining when one is dealing with very small pairs of unspeakably soiled underwear or coping with a small person in total meltdown about (I enumerate them thusly):
the "wrong" Cheerios
it still being dark but also being the morning (seriously)
the favourite shirt having a missing button
the bus going the wrong way past the car (it's a circular route, so 50:50 chance on this one.)
How does it go "He who would valiant be, gainst all disaster (eg missing the most up to date episode of Scooby Doo).........well I guess that would be me, and I feel pretty valiant (well, today anyway).
Now, has anyone got any stain remover, chocolate weetos (NOT honey cheerios), buttons and thread, a bus timetable and some way of re-setting the equinox....................................
In fact most jobs don't really stop on Sunday, do they (and yes, you are right, I am now going to point out that parenting is a 24/7 job with a saintly and ever so slightly martyred air - feel free to blow raspberries.)
Sunday is however that little bit calmer for us - we've always had a nice Sunday routine. Way back, as commuting long-distance relationship Law-Beginners the Sunday lunch routine was indeed a sacred space for us to just, well, be! Be normal, be together, be in the potential of what we both hoped our relationship would become......domesticated and unified. Plus of course we have a vicar in the Family, so Sunday has, for as long as I have been with Mr LAL, included worship (and tea and biscuits!).
(Hi my name is "Not a Lawyer Anymore" and I am...........................a Christian. It's been fifteen years since I started following that bloke who said cryptic radical things about Life the Universe and Everything. If Jesus was on Twitter what would his posts have looked like? "@Judas, not cool...." But I digress).
For our little nuclear family, our faith is like the wallpaper on the pc desktop - there underneath whatever other application is running (School Run Carnage, Housework Blitz, Money Madness, Homework Puzzle, SingStar etc etc). My faith is one of the constants that links my life Before Escape (BE) with my Life After Law, apart from, of course, Mr Life After Law (who has loved/put up with me through both!) - in fact the two things combine (no, Mr LAL is not a vicar, although as above we've got one in the Family).
Regular worship and Sunday school are part of our routine and provide unique opportunities to grapple with answering the impossible and or awkward questions for which very small children have a particular gift. Most children seem to take the parts of Christianity that come attached to festivals that include gift giving and chocolate (Virgin Birth, Resurrection) in their stride. However they are given to asking much simpler and yet impossible questions like "If the Church is God's house, where does He sleep". (Answer: as an omnipotent Deity, anywhere He likes?!)
So did my faith make any difference to my decision to "jack it all in" - well of course, yes. Through friends at church I had a great circle of women (if you're reading this and you know you were in it, thank you) who loved me through the very painful process of realising that something I had invested so much of my life and energy in just wasn't working out (many tears).
But of course I have family and friends - and colleagues - who may or may not have a Christian faith but are wise and awesome and loving and who also did the same thing (thank you too) and from whom I had nothing but encouragement and support.
The biggest thing for me now is that I have faith that there is some sort of Plan (and that I followed it by giving up work) and that things will, broadly, be OK! This faith is incredibly sustaining when one is dealing with very small pairs of unspeakably soiled underwear or coping with a small person in total meltdown about (I enumerate them thusly):
the "wrong" Cheerios
it still being dark but also being the morning (seriously)
the favourite shirt having a missing button
the bus going the wrong way past the car (it's a circular route, so 50:50 chance on this one.)
How does it go "He who would valiant be, gainst all disaster (eg missing the most up to date episode of Scooby Doo).........well I guess that would be me, and I feel pretty valiant (well, today anyway).
Now, has anyone got any stain remover, chocolate weetos (NOT honey cheerios), buttons and thread, a bus timetable and some way of re-setting the equinox....................................
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Don't put your daughter on the stage........
My mother fondly recalls the incident when I, much impressed by a Church Nativity, ran up the aisle and stood at the front adopting the "Angel Gabriel" pose - aged about 3. You might think, then, that my current obsession with and not-at-all-secret fantasy about becoming a professional opera singer is not that surprising.
In fact, I am discovering that I am actually a bit shy about really being myself with people (on stage or off), and that I resort to humor instead (I realise that I am now just inviting sarcasm from those of you who know me plus abuse of the "Oh, you were trying to be funny" variety!) not to mention a healthy dose of pretending I'm fine, whether I am or not!
But I'm learning that in the context of performing and singing you just have to let go and let it all out! And actually it is a bit of a revelation - liberating (terrifying). I am now finding that I can't really sing if I am bottling anything up - it just takes the stopper off the bottle! And that is great. Parenting and marriage both provide plenty of opportunities for simmering (should only be done with food), brewing (ditto alchohol) and festering (just should never be done), and I say that in what I call a happy home (and so would Mr Life After Law - well, he'd better...........) let alone facing anything out of the ordinary (well, not tooooooo far out).
I didn't sing as much while I was a Lawyer but I can heartily recommend it as an ideal stress-buster whatever you are doing with your life.
Which is why, whether I ever make it onto the stage at La Scala (why is my phone not ringing) I will keep singing and I will keep loving every note - and you can too! Whether you sing in the shower or at Sydney Opera House (again, no phone calls) just let it all out and enjoy it.
As for my progeny, I have two budding singers on my hands one of whom can do a terrifyingly accurate American accent (thanks to High School Musical, High School Musical 2 and High School Musical 3).
For my children the mystery of theatre is no longer a mystery:-
"Mummy, I think that lady with the pink hair (panto dame) is really a man in a dress".......
"Mummy when there was that big splashing noise (actor thrown "overboard") is it really the sea because I don't think it would fit"
and finally: "Mummy, when you were supposed to be all dead and a ghost, I think you should have had your face more white because you didn't look dead enough!" (the younger, by the way, commented "Oh NO, what's happened you face??"
Don't put your daughter (or of course, as the case may be, son) on the stage? Well I don't know, but I hope they'll both discover the joy of singing for themselves and I hope you do too!
La la laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa............................
In fact, I am discovering that I am actually a bit shy about really being myself with people (on stage or off), and that I resort to humor instead (I realise that I am now just inviting sarcasm from those of you who know me plus abuse of the "Oh, you were trying to be funny" variety!) not to mention a healthy dose of pretending I'm fine, whether I am or not!
But I'm learning that in the context of performing and singing you just have to let go and let it all out! And actually it is a bit of a revelation - liberating (terrifying). I am now finding that I can't really sing if I am bottling anything up - it just takes the stopper off the bottle! And that is great. Parenting and marriage both provide plenty of opportunities for simmering (should only be done with food), brewing (ditto alchohol) and festering (just should never be done), and I say that in what I call a happy home (and so would Mr Life After Law - well, he'd better...........) let alone facing anything out of the ordinary (well, not tooooooo far out).
I didn't sing as much while I was a Lawyer but I can heartily recommend it as an ideal stress-buster whatever you are doing with your life.
Which is why, whether I ever make it onto the stage at La Scala (why is my phone not ringing) I will keep singing and I will keep loving every note - and you can too! Whether you sing in the shower or at Sydney Opera House (again, no phone calls) just let it all out and enjoy it.
As for my progeny, I have two budding singers on my hands one of whom can do a terrifyingly accurate American accent (thanks to High School Musical, High School Musical 2 and High School Musical 3).
For my children the mystery of theatre is no longer a mystery:-
"Mummy, I think that lady with the pink hair (panto dame) is really a man in a dress".......
"Mummy when there was that big splashing noise (actor thrown "overboard") is it really the sea because I don't think it would fit"
and finally: "Mummy, when you were supposed to be all dead and a ghost, I think you should have had your face more white because you didn't look dead enough!" (the younger, by the way, commented "Oh NO, what's happened you face??"
Don't put your daughter (or of course, as the case may be, son) on the stage? Well I don't know, but I hope they'll both discover the joy of singing for themselves and I hope you do too!
La la laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa............................
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)