Put another dime in the jukebox baby...
Last night was our elementary school variety show. With Jill's passing there was talk of canceling, but Jill wouldn't have wanted that. So dedicated to her, the show went on.
There were 35 acts. Kids, teachers, parents sang, played instruments, performed skits did feats of magic and comedy. We laughed, cried, cheered and cheered some more. And then the reason for all my meetings at the school became apparent.
The Super Mom number. My kids screamed as I took my place backstage, "Why are you going to embarass us?" I shrugged. I had no answer.
The fifth grade mom's always have an act, dedicated to the leaving class. At first I wasn't going to do it. I'm many things: scout leader, writer, photographer, knitter, disciplinarian, mom, friend, tutor, dishwasher and pot scrubber, laundress, walker, church event planner, taxi driver, religious education substitute, fisherman, camper, but I am not a show girl. But my co-leader and friend said, "Come on, our daughter's will be so proud." The guilt laid on thick, I caved. And I am glad I did.
We have some talented mom's in our class. One can really dance and she and her daughter choreographed the number which started with doing a little hip hop to a Superman song that all the kids knew. (Note: After practicing two weeks weeks, I still don't know the title. But play the built up and I'll jump into position in my sleep.)
After a few refrains, and a few leaps across the stage, the lead show mom said, "Cut the music so we can give them some of our music, some good music from 1981." Quickly we, there were ten of us brave matriarchs, donned denim jackets, sun glasses and picked up Guitar Hero guitars and played and clapped along to I Love Rock'n Roll. The auditorium erupted. Two moms actually slide on their knees across the stage and got down and jammed. Our lead singer strutted the stage and shared the mike with the other jammin' mamas. I even got to sing the line, "Yeah Me."
For two minutes we weren't taxi drivers, homework reminders, note writers, library volunteers, mystery readers, or class moms. For two minutes we were stars. Put another dime in the jukebox baby... and dance with me.
I have no pictures.