“Gram? Are you coming to school today?” Why I didn’t sew yesterday.

At least the phone call I got from school wasn’t because Goodnight was crying.  The Drama Club production is history and hopefully the costume angst is history, too.

My phone rang unusually early, however.

GN:  Gram?  Are you coming to school today?

Gram:  Yup!  After your softball practice, 5:30, right?

GN:  No, Gram.  I mean are you coming to the school for Grandparents’ Day?

Gram:  Today is Grandparents’ Day at school?

GN:  Yah, Gram.  Are you coming?

Gram:  I didn’t know anything about this, honey.

GN:  I know.  I forgot to give you the invitation.

Gram:  (I feel so important.)  Did the invitation require an R.S.V.P.?

GN:  Yah, but are you coming?

Gram:  Hon, they want an R.S.V.P. because they need to plan ahead.

GN:  Yah, but are you coming.

Gram:  Do you want me to come?

GN:  I don’t care.  So are you coming?

Gram;  (I feel even more important than I did a moment ago.)  What time should I show up, hon?  I don’t have any information about this.

GN:  It starts at 1:00.  I’m serving, so I can’t sit with you, but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.

Gram:  (So we could have skipped this phone call and I could be sewing?)  I’ll be there.  I’ll just skip the cake and ice-cream part of the day since they didn’t get an R.S.V.P. from you.  See you later.  Thanks for inviting me.

I get it.  Grandparents’ Day at Goodnight’s school isn’t for the parents.  It’s for one generation older than those who gave birth to the students.  That presupposes that those receiving the invitations to Grandparents’ Day aren’t packing lunches for the student everyday and helping them with their homework (though obviously not the softball rules for the gym quiz), or taking teary phone calls from the student about white dresses for Evil Queens in a seventh grade play.

The invitations are for the generation who may not know where their loved one goes to school, hasn’t seen their art work hanging on the wall, or sat through conferences with teachers at the end of each trimester.

I get it.

Our phone conversation wasn’t rude.  It was a ritual.  We tend to un-formalize the formal because I AM the grandparent and I AM the legal custodian and I have already seen Goodnight’s artwork.  I have met all her teachers, the principal (took two morning phone calls from him this year, in fact) and met the assistant principal, and I know the custodian by his first name . . . . . . .

Goodnight wasn’t being rude to forget about the invitation.  It’s how she deals with – things.  I am the only grandparent raising a student who attends that school.  The rest of the grandparents got to drive in for the day, were escorted around by their grandstudent(s) to see all the nooks and crannies of the building.  They got their first look at the new gym floor and . . . so forth.

I’ve seen the new gym floor.  All the Fish Fries last March were in that gym.  I’ve seen Goodnight’s artwork.  We made a mad dash to the store to pick up some last-minute supplies because something went wrong with her project and she figured out how to fix it in time for the due date.

When I hung up the phone, I looked at my new wool fabric on the table, waiting to be cut and sewn.  I chanted my mantra: “Cleaning and scrubbing can wait til tomorrow, for babies grow up, we learn to our sorrow . . . “  Not a darn word in Ruth Hulbert Hamilton’s poem about sewing, but that can wait too.  I took a shower, found something to wear that made me look more grandmotherly, and then went to Grandparents’ Day.

Goodnight was indeed busy serving.  Not serving the refreshments, but serving at the religious service that we sat through before the cake I didn’t R.S.V.P. for, and the tour of the building I’ve already seen.  Goodnight is the shorter of the two girls in the photo below.

Okay!  I got to see something new:  Goodnight as an ‘altar girl.’  They don’t actually use my term, but that’s as much of ‘religion’ that you’ll get out of me in this post – if you get my drift.  And look at that church!  Packed with grandparents – who probably got their invitations on time and then R.S.V.P.’d so they cold have cake and ice-cream.

You know how you sometimes get a subtle sign if you’ve done the right thing or made the right choice?  I got mine when GN spotted me from her location in the above  photo, and waved at me without ever raising her hand from its serene pose.  After the service, she ran to me, hugged me tightly, whispered “Thanks for coming, Gram,” and took me by the hand to lead me to where her artwork was hanging on the wall.

“ . . . . so quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep.  I’m at Grandparents’ Day with Goodnight, and Goodnight’s don’t keep.”  (with a slight alteration to the original ending of the above referenced poem.

“Gram? Can you talk to my teacher?”

It usually isn’t a good day when I get two phone calls from the school before classes even begin.

Goodnight, or should I say Jelly Bean, the Evil Queen, has her debut today.  All the hard work of Drama Club rehearsals and memorizing lines has come to an end and it’s time for the show.  Goodnight has two performances today.

On top of that, her fast-pitch softball team has made it to the play-offs.  They only lost one game all season and the play-offs begin this afternoon.  Goodnight has to get into her costume and make-up, participate in an afternoon performance of her school play, then make a quick change to her softball uniform, scrub her face and head to the ball field for the game.  After the game, we’ll have a car picnic because there won’t even be time for us to go home for dinner because she will have to get back into her make-up and costume for the evening performance of the play.

With all that in mind, Goodnight had a lot of stuff to take to school today, so rather than drag her Evil Queen dress in the rain-soaked street as she waited for her school bus, I drove her to school.  I tried to keep the whole morning low-key.

No sooner did I drop her off when I got the first phone call from Goodnight.  “she doesn’t like it. . . . . . “

Goodnight was referring to the teacher who is also in charge of the Drama Club and what she didn’t like was Jelly Bean’s costume.

Sigh . . .

When this all began, I decided to be a bystander.  There was a fee for participating in the Drama Club and I expected that it went for props, costumes, etc.  When Goodnight was assigned her costume, she was given an old Halloween witch’s costume.  It was something that was in the school storage – so I guess the fee didn’t go toward her costume.  I told her to wear it and go with the flow.

As time passed, other kids were coming to school with their own costumes and the Good Queen was looking quite beautiful, so I was told.  I guess the fee didn’t go for her costume either.

It’s a tough age, seventh grade.  Being on stage looking like a witch, when one is really an Evil Queen, doesn’t help.  Being on stage in a witch’s costume when the Good Queen AND the Fairy Godmother get to wear high heels and a pretty dresses makes things even worse.  Being on stage in an ugly witch’s costume when one is NOT a witch, with the boys staring at the Good Queen and the Fairy Godmother because they get to wear pretty dresses and high heels makes the situation intolerable for a young actress.

Can an Evil Queen be beautiful?  Must an Evil Queen wear black?  How does one tell the Good Queen from the Evil Queen if they are both wearing dark, dark dresses?

I decided not to be a bystander.  There was a time in my life when I was the costumer for a community theatre for several years and a number of productions.  I could help Goodnight just a little bit.  I took her to a thrift shop and we hunted down a more acceptable dress for her to wear.  The choices were limited, but she found one that fit, and that she liked.  I paid for it.  Goodnight found the humor of it.  the Good Queen has a very dark dress and the Evil Queen’s grandmother had purchased a white one.

It’s actually a beautiful dress.  It’s appropriate for Goodnight’s age.  It’s appropriate for her role.  It has netting underneath to make the floor-length skirt poofy.  We found some swanky high heels to go with the dress.  Goodnight practiced walking in them at home so she could be a graceful Evil Queen.

I found a shawl that belonged to Goodnight’s mother.  I told her she could wear it if she wanted to.  I also had some formal evening gloves that Angel wore to a military ball in high school.  Goodnight was thrilled to have some pieces of her mother with her on stage.  She looked beautiful.

When I got the first phone call this morning, I told Goodnight to explain our thinking with this costume and see what her teacher had to say.

It didn’t take long before I got a second phone call – this time with tears. 

GN:  SHE’S MAD!

Gram:  You’re teacher is mad?  About a costume we paid for?  About a costume for a seventh-grade play?

GN:  YES!!!

Gram:  Did you explain everything to her?

GN:  No.  I tried, but she didn’t listen and I didn’t want to get more nervous and forget my lines.

Gram:  Okay, hon.  Then wear the witch’s costume and have fun anyway.

GN:  Will you talk to her?

Gram:  No, honey, I won’t.  She is the director and she gets to make the decisions.  Directors have a vision of the production and I need to let her do her job.

GN:  THEN I QUIT!!!!!

Gram:  No, honey.  You don’t get to quit.  You need to finish what you started.  You’ve put a lot of time into this and you can’t let a costume spoil your fun.  You do not get to be a Diva.  Divas are not spoken kindly of in the theatre.  You do not get to be Jelly Bean the Drama Queen, okay?

Besides, methinks there was already a Diva in the house anyway.

I’ll spare you the photo of the Evil Queen’s beautiful white dress, but check out the swanky high heels we found at the thrift shop.  They are atop Angel’s shawl that I sent to school with Goodnight.  I take guilty pleasure in the irony of the shoe label.  Can you see it?  It says “Wild Diva.”  Maybe Goodnight should loan them to her teacher. . . . . . .  

Here’s my final thought on the matter.  Friday is an out-of- uniform day for the members of the Drama Club.  They get to wear whatever they want.  I’m hoping Goodnight decides to wear the long white dress and the high heel shoes.