Boy on stage. Heart in throat.

sideOur school has a variety show every spring – only fifth through eighth graders are allowed to perform, but the whole school gets to watch. I’ve gone every year since I found out about it because it’s AWESOME. As is pretty typical for these types of things, the content and talent level is all over the map. But it’s always fun and sort of heartbreaking to watch these brave kids getting on a stage, in some cases at the most awkward point of their lives, to perform. Sometimes they are hammy. Sometimes they are adorable. Sometimes they are breathtaking. I always imagine the kids feel o.k. putting themselves out there because our school is a trusted little community and it warms my cockles – it really does.

Last year, I remember Crackerjack was a nervous nelly because her son was performing a song with a group of boys. She was totally the mama wringing her hands, hoping it would go ok. I remember being super blasé about it since I love all of it, always, year after year and have yet to see anything that makes me cringe.

Only this year . . . THIS YEAR, I’m singing a different tune altogether.

Saint James and his buddy, Birdie’s Boy, are doing a song and dance routine to Iyaz’ Replay. Apparently, they are singing, but since their “moves” are so complicated, they can’t stand behind a mic, so it’s more of a lip synch slash dance routine. (It’s a little known fact that lip synch slash dance routines were my speciality back in the day, so this amuses me. Only he’s in fifth grade and I was in twelfth. I know, I was so gay.) The two of them have been absolutely mum about the act, accepting no help, allowing no previews, asking for nothing (except for a pair of rapper glasses). When I suggested maybe they should hold their mics so we could hear them sing, I was totally blocked. I’m gathering this act is really more about the moves and the swaggah. Eeeep!

Needless to say, I’m fretting. It’s hard to watch your kid put himself in a position where he could potentially embarrass himself. I know he’ll be great, and even if he isn’t, it doesn’t matter because the two of them are so darn cute they could pretty much get away with anything. But yet – I fret. I am standing right in Crackerjack’s super sexy nervous wedges from last year. Right in them. And I’m sweating them all up.

Today I went to pick Saint James up from the dress rehearsal and realized they hadn’t gone yet, so when they took the stage, I ran out the side door. He has made it blatantly clear he wants to save the surprise, so I wanted to respect that. I could hear the music and see the audience, which was basically the kids in the show and a couple moms. A few girls in his class let out a little fan shriek when they came on stage and one was taping them on a small camera. I wish I had had my phone to tape the girls, taping the boys. Judging from their reaction, it can’t have been bad. In fact, it might have been good. The girlies were all smiles and giggles and clapping after they finished (no eye-rolling) and believe me, I had my x-ray vision trained on them, so I would have seen it.

Until tomorrow, Dash and I are keeping our jitters to ourselves because  Saint James seems to have zero qualms about doing this. He is cool as a cucumber. I keep pestering Dash to see if he remembers being more self-conscious as a kid, but he’s not giving up the goods. I know I would have been a little spinning top of nervous energy had I been doing a dance in front of the whole school as a ten year old.  But maybe that’s a girl thing.

We’ll see. Here’s to Saint James and Birdie’s Boy ‘breaking a leg’ as they say in showbiz, and their mamas keeping their shit together in the front row (because, you know, that’s where I plan to be!)

Until then, enjoy a little Iyaz:

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