Dancing on Platforms and Packing Light

I had such a fun time last night. There’s something almost magical about trading in the mum bag.  heavy with juice cartons, wipes, emergency jelly babies, and vaguely food-ish substances, for a small bag with just a phone, wallet and (annoyingly) my meds. I danced on the train platform to Hairspray before any wine had even touched my lips. Maybe I didn’t realise how much I needed a break but my body clearly did.

Back to Reality (6:30am Edition)

There’s nothing quite like being woken from a blissful post-wine slumber by the sound of “MUMMY!” at 6:30am. We did our little dance (the real kind, not the fun Hairspray one) and then I went back to bed, until 9am. Yes, judge me. But it was Friday. Performance day. I needed to be on it.

All Black, All Emotions

Summer needed an all-black outfit. I had a flashback to GCSE drama, pretending to be glued to the wall waiting for an emotional monologue. We found leggings that just about fit, a black top and the black pumps from last year that now actually fit her. She wasn’t convinced they were an actual shoe. Explaining what ballet pumps were was somehow more exhausting than finding them.

A Safe Stop at Kiran’s

After dropping Summer at the theatre, I had a few hours to fill. I could’ve gone all the way back home, but I wasn’t in the mood for unnecessary miles and frankly, I needed friendly company. So I messaged Kiran: “Fancy a couple of visitors?” Her reply came instantly “Absolutely.”

Kiran is more than an old colleague. She’s become one of those golden people in my life, someone who shows up, listens without judgement, and loves my kids just as they are. She’s been there for me through some tough moments and still makes time to celebrate the small wins. The kind of friend you don’t even have to explain things to, she just gets it.

She welcomed us in like she always does; warm, calm, totally unfazed. Her house is beautiful, inviting, and (key detail) full of brilliant things to explore. River was delighted to return to ‘his’ playroom, and even more thrilled when we opened the cupboard. Not just any cupboard, the EYFS (Early Years Foundation Stage) cupboard of dreams. Beads, sorting bowls, plastic animals, a squishy ball and his personal favourite: a giant fishing net. Simple, satisfying joy.

There was also a TV in the playroom, which meant Kiran got her first taste of the Halloween TV marathon. Her only comment, made with a smile: “There’s a lot of Halloween stuff, isn’t there?” Yes, yes there is. Welcome to River’s YouTube world.

Spending time at Kiran’s was exactly what I needed. River was relaxed, I had a comfy sofa and company and for a moment the day felt easy. It reminded me how vital it is to have friends who Make space, for me, my children and the unpredictability that comes with them. No awkwardness, no performative understanding, just real kindness.

The Performance Plan

I’d missed Summer’s performance last year when River couldn’t cope and screamed to get on stage. I promised her I’d stay this time. But promises don’t mean much without a plan.

Enter: Operation Performance.

• Three adults, pre-arranged roles.
  
• Snacks? Check.
  
• Juice? Check.
  
• Exit strategy? Oh yes.
  

The Performance

Summer’s solo was song 2. He awoke at the end of song 1. We all exchanged nervous looks. He woke up obviously screaming for me. I put a hand on his chest and he was soothed for a few minutes. Then he realised he was back in the movie theatre.

Kike turned his pushchair round and he quietly watched the end of the first song – Monster Mash. Quite fitting if you ask me, especially as half the cast were wearing our Halloween masks. I just looked at them and thought: yep, this is our life now. It was kind of poetic.

Her song is great and I mouth along because I just love musical theatre so much and want her to know how invested I am in her. The song finishes, we all clap and it’s straight into the next one.

“I WANT TO GO.” Crap. He’s done.

He pauses when the next song starts and we sit nervously, wondering, maybe he’ll be fine? Maybe he’ll enjoy it?

“I WANT TO GO!”

This is it. Stick to the plan. This isn’t a professional performance; these are children. And he has to leave.

Kike quickly, quietly pushes him out and you can hear the faint screams of “MUMMY!” as we watch the rest of the performance.

Balancing Acts

We celebrated with a promised McDonald’s. Meanwhile, River stuck to routine and went with the others to his Friday pub. When we arrived, Summer was lavished with praise. She was proud. And she deserved to be.

River wanted to sit on me and shout “SKELETON” on repeat, as is his current vibe. Normally I’d let it happen. But after some helpful conversations, I tried setting a boundary. “River’s chair… next to mummy.” It took a few tries. But I got my own chair.

Reflection

It’s been a good day. Because this time, the plan had worked. Because this time, Summer needed me to be there and I was.

And that’s the dance of it, isn’t it? That delicate, exhausting balance of meeting everyone’s needs: mine, River’s, Summer’s and Kike’s. Getting it wrong some days. Getting it just right on others. Learning that success doesn’t mean nobody cried. It means we tried. It means we planned. It means we showed up and we adapted.

It means Summer got her moment. And River had his limits respected. And I had help.

And that, really, is everything.