I’m not a rock star. I’m not even in a band. (I know, it’s hard to believe.)
Actually, this? This is my life.
Yes, that’s a sewing machine, getting ready to sew a pillow back together that my husband opened and stuffed another pillow into to make it bigger. (It’s now HUGE.)
And yes, that is “Mean Girls” in the background. And a sippy cup. And a tissue box from one of my sick kids. And my computer so I can check various social media sites. This has become my Sunday night, after working for 3 hours at the office because my work load no longer fits into my 6 hour/week job.
I used to dream of being a rock star. I would rock out while playing the piano and be awesome on stage. Everyone would come and sing along with my songs. I would be as cool as Fiona Apple. I would have amazing style and a great look.
In reality, I can carry a tune fine and I can read music, but I have no natural, God-given talent that would make me a star. In reality, I’m just a mom.
And it was all too obvious when I went to see Fiona Apple on Wednesday night with my friend Cindi.
Fiona Apple is brilliant. She sounded simply amazing. She sang and played the piano with passion and perfection. Her band had soul.
Except I can’t get her sunken face out of my mind. She was so thin. Too thin. And definitely was not grounded. I just wanted to hug her and take her face in my hands and scream “Eat a sandwich! And stop doing drugs!” Because I’m a mom. And my mom-sense was in full swing the second she walked onto stage.
Let me say that I loved her concert. LOVED it. But I was so concerned about her and again, I just wanted her to eat and stop taking drugs. (Disclaimer, I have NO idea if she has an eating disorder or if she’s truly taking drugs. It is simply my observation. My mom observation.)
And while I wanted to live her life so very much when I was younger, and let’s be honest, up until I saw her on stage Wednesday night, I just wanted to hug and mother her (yes, we’re the same age, I know).
Because apparently that’s my instinct now. My “mom of three” persona out in full force, carefully watching her to make sure she wasn’t going to collapse in front of me that night.
It wouldn’t be true if I said I still didn’t want that life, that I didn’t pretend it was me and yearn to have something so innate as her talent. Okay, so maybe not her life, but her ability to be amazing on stage, passionate, giving everything she has into her performance, her job.
But tonight, while I was soothing another of my sick children during “Mean Girls,” I realized that I’m a pretty good mom when my kids need me most. And seeing that sad, sick little boy relax and feel comforted by my embrace, made me appreciate where God has placed me during this time of my life.
And you never know. Maybe I’ll be in a band when I’m older.
More likely, I’ll be singing Fiona Apple karaoke in a dive bar in my hometown with one of my best friends. I have such aspirations…