Living Happily Ever After

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My First Audition—Almost

“Simon would not want to audition in front of Simon.” (Paula Abdul)

Have you ever looked at your life and wondered how you got there? That happened to me the other day. I call it, “The Audition.” Get ready.

I confess I never imagined “audition” and “Andrea” would be mentioned in the same sentence, much less in connection with my life, unexpected or otherwise. But sometimes in life, you get things you never expected! (Wise words, where have I read them before…Oh, yes, in the “About Me” section of this blog.)

One night my husband was talking to me about a theater opportunity he was going to audition for. He made the mistake of mentioning how much the job paid and without thinking (because I’m always trying to figure out ways to enhance my income–still short every month, three years later, darn it) I said, “Really? Maybe I should audition!”

Did I REALLY just say that?

It came out of my mouth on a whim, as a joke or a warped version of wishful thinking in the way you dream of being the recipient of a little extra money…but  before I knew it, my husband was off and running with the idea. He began planning: talked to me all about it, told me what to expect, said he’d help me work up a song to audition with, and when his married son dropped by, he started telling “everyone” (his children and my children and that always leads to information shared to many others:) what I was up to. Sort of a problem for me.

First, I hadn’t figured out how I was going to tell my kids that I was considering attempting something crazy. Second, I was still thinking I was in the “considering it” phase, not actually “planning to do it.” Third, believe it or not and contrary to what this blog may imply, I like to do things without having everyone know about it unless I choose to put it out there, like in this blog, and I always put it out there after the fact—after I’ve experienced it, processed it, mentally recovered from it and made sure enough time has passed I’m not imposing on anyone’s privacy. And fourth, in remarriage with children those opportunities for total privacy are few and far between. It feels like other parties always have to be notified of something we’re planning and thus, know my business almost as quickly as I do, so I relish the few things not connected to parenting/children that my husband and I can do without informing or involving anyone else…and then he told the kids right off the bat! (I know, I know, I’m hypersensitive where boundaries are concerned. I’m pretty sure it’s just an issue I have, but it has been a challenge because our two different families with two different cultures, which includes completely different ideas about boundaries, expectations and everything else, don’t always align. What’s normal to one family and the way they’ve always done it, doesn’t necessarily mesh with my expectations or isn’t how my family has always done it…you get the picture. Lets just say marriage, and especially remarriage, is a continual lesson in compromise, among many other things, is it not?)

Over the next few days, my husband continued to talk about the audition like it was a reality and I was really going to do it, left potential audition songs for me on the piano, and finally, the night before the audition, sat me down at the piano, had me sing a few songs, and selected one for me to master. Which led to an impromptu singing lesson because as he gave me vocal direction I could only look at him with a blank face. “Huh?” I frequently questioned. “What does that mean?” He’d demonstrate, we’d work on it and after quite a bit of time, he told me we were ready to leave it and he made a plan for us to go to the audition the next morning together.

As I stood in my living room, singing a solo in front of my husband and trying to sing in a more classical style (a huge challenge for me, lets just say I was Madonna on a cruise ship for a reason!), I had a hard time not laughing. I just kept thinking, “What in the heck am I doing? How did I get myself into this? This is NOT me. Didn’t I say I was never going to sing in public? I never would have imagined, on our first date, that someday my husband would be giving me a singing lesson…preparatory to an AUDITION!” Yet there I stood, preparing to do that very thing on the morrow.

And then wouldn’t you know it, after all of that time, work, effort and near humiliation I finally thought to check my calendar…and discovered I have a big work event scheduled the same weekend the show opens. Even if I were good enough (by some fluke) to make the show on the very first audition of my life, they’d never cast me if I were going to miss opening weekend performances!

I didn’t audition after all.

Saved by a scheduling conflict.

“A lot affects the outcome. It boils down to scheduling and the commitment of the network.” (David Ogden Stiers)

And that is the story of my first audition. Or the audition that actually didn’t happen. Whew—close call on that one!

Shock…And A Grin

“Crimes sometimes shock us too much; vices almost always too little.” (Augustus Hare)

Night before last I was up until midnight, hanging out and chatting with my oldest. Talking about anything and everything EXCEPT the sentencing of his father which took place yesterday. But it had to have been on his mind because he didn’t seem to want to be alone with his thoughts; I sensed he needed someone to talk to.

When he went to bed, I checked on my 10-year-old and found him crying in his bed, worried about the pending sentencing of his father. I offered words of encouragement, tried to help him look at the bright side and attempted to cheer him up–until nearly 1:30 a.m. It broke my heart and I realized in that moment, regardless of the outcome of the sentencing and the remorse my former husband feels for what he has done to so many people, there are some things he just won’t quite understand. He hasn’t been around to witness it firsthand; he has been incarcerated. He hasn’t had to look into the devastated faces of our children. He didn’t have to (or get to) watch them live with pain He caused. He hasn’t had to help them pick up the pieces and struggle to carry on and create a new life when the going was tougher than any of us ever imagined.

But, I sent everyone to school, to press forward in their lives and with their responsibilities despite the challenging circumstances–and I went to work, too, awaiting word of the sentencing outcome. Looking back, I think I worked all day under an inordinate amount of stress. I don’t think I even realized the stress I was operating under until I got a phone call near the end of the day. A Colorado friend was calling to report the outcome of my former spouse’s sentencing hearing for operating a Ponzi scheme/stealing over $20 million.

I anticipated, based on the last collect call I received from my former spouse, that the hearing would take two hours. Instead, more than eight hours later my friend called, crying, to report the maximum sentence had been handed down in a courtroom whose atmosphere was so tense and hateful she felt sick to her stomach.

I don’t know what more I can say about the importance of choosing to heal instead of hate, but I love what Martin Luther King Jr. said: “Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies – or else? The chain reaction of evil – hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars – must be broken, or else we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.” (Martin Luther King, Jr.) He was absolutely right.

So as my friend recounted the events of the day, I really only heard a few words: The maximum, 12 1/2 years.

How was I going to tell my children?

I don’t know what I wanted the outcome to be; I don’t know what I expected. I have only prayed that I will be o.k. with whatever the judge decides and that somehow, I will be able to help my children be o.k. with it too. But to hear the words, “151 months,” “12 1/2 years” shocked me. It sent me into a very unprofessional, uncontrollable crying-in-the-workplace episode; the likes of which I never expected or imagined.

My poor co-workers. I’ve held it together for over a year. I’ve never done anything like that in public that I can recall. But today was so unexpected. The unstoppable wail of a woman in shock, broken-hearted, traumatized by the senseless destruction and tragedy unleashed on so many by the terrible choices of one man. The grief of a mother knowing the next time her teenage son saw his father that son would be almost 30 years old. The cry of a single mother trying to hold her little family together, knowing she had be the one to share the bad news and see pain in a little boy’s eyes, again, when he learned the fate of his father.

If I ever think I’m having a bad day…remind me of March 18, 2009, or September 14, 2010.

Shaking, somehow I managed to drive all the way home, bawling, and tried to pull myself together enough to face my children. To break their hearts one more time. I’ll never forget the dread I felt as I pulled up to my home, knowing what I had to go inside and do. Break my children’s hearts.

I spoke with my daughter first. I told her the outcome and she accepted it calmly, with grace and dignity (unlike her mother.)

I sat my 10-year-old down and prepared him for the news. He was happy and smiling until that moment then a serious expression came to his face as I shared the events of the day. Instead of the devastation I anticipated, he chose to look at the bright side, “Well, if he has already served 13 months, and he gets time off for good behavior, he’ll be free to see us when I’m only in college! That’s not so bad!”

Stoic and optimistic. All on his own. I could not have been more proud of him than I was in that moment. And despite the terrible struggle coming to terms with his father’s choices has been for him, I was amazed at how my sweet son has grown over the past 18 months. If I can only help him realize that if he will choose to handle all of the setbacks that come his way like today’s, he is destined for greatness–regardless of, or perhaps because of, his adversity.

My oldest son got the news on his phone before he even got home. When I sat him down to tell him, he already knew. Everything was what he had expected, and he is to the point in his life where he is actually grateful for all that he has learned as a result of all that he has passed through. He can see how he has been blessed as a result of his trials, so he tried to laugh about it–revealing he and his sister had placed bets on the outcome and he had gotten out of doing the dishes this week!

I guess everyone deals with shock, grief and trauma in their own way. Who’s to say which way is right or wrong? Certainly not me. But as one co-worker encouraged when I was in the throes of my unexpected reaction and trying to apologize for it, “I’d worry about you if you didn’t react.”

Note to self: one “secret” to the unexpected life is to let yourself feel so you can heal. (Just remember: no wallowing!)

We did that yesterday, each of us in our own way, and as I sent my children to bed each had a smile on their face, which brought one to mine. We’ve survived another unexpected development in our unexpected life…and we came out grinning.

“It’s easy to grin when your ships come in and you’ve got the stock market beat, but the man worth while is the man who can smile when his pants are too tight in the seat.”

We’re going to be o.k.

And now, back to the chick-flick portion of my unexpected life. What’s coming just might be worthy of a grin, too.