Nerves. I’m feeling fidgety. Distracted. Anxious. Nervous.
The kids are sensing the vibe, which brings out different responses in each. AppleApple wants to help. Albus is extra-thoughtful. CJ keeps giving me kisses. Fooey is extra-rebellious. I think they’re all expressing the same thing though: Say it’s okay, Mom!
It’s okay, kids.
What’s happening tonight is just a party. I mean, it’s a big party, for me. But still, it’s just a party. If I can hope for anything, it’s to be relaxed and comfortable and to embrace the moment. I hope the words glide off my tongue during the reading. I hope to remember everyone’s name — I really really hope for that.
What else to hope for? All of the above seems quite enough.
Yet I could go on. And on. I hope not to discover something’s been stuck in my teeth all night. I hope not to trip walking onto the stage, or off of it. I hope my foot stays out of my mouth. I hope my hair dries pretty. I hope my voice hangs in. I hope my kids are good for the babysitter. I hope there’s not a blizzard. I hope my hands don’t shake. I hope I remember how to sign my name.
Oh yeah. I hope to have fun.
I hope to have fun.
I hope to really really really have fun. That too. That most of all.