Day 94: Sweet Child O' Mine

I went into the city last night to see A in her professional stage debut (of sorts). She's wanted to be an actress for as long as any of us can remember and is now in hot pursuit of her BFA in Drama. She likes to joke that she made her Broadway debut in "Hair" on her 19th birthday this past June: all the people sitting in her row in the audience were invited up onto the stage for the curtain call. Wearing her birthday crown, she sang and danced and waved into the spotlights. I'm pretty sure I know what she wished for when she blew out her birthday candles later that evening.

A has been working this summer -- aka interning for no money -- for a woman who is directing a workshop production for a summer play festival. A is her right hand man and the stage manager. She'd rather be in the spotlights than work them, but it's been a valuable experience for her and, interestingly, for me. It's not just that she's growing up. It's that she seems so professional.

This morning we wandered around the West Village and ended up in a store that sells clothing more my style than hers. She wears cute, funky, NYC drama student kinds of clothes, a look I couldn't pull off even on Halloween (although recently I did buy a smokin' silver lame Candies jacket that would have gone perfectly with my circa 1975 Huckapoo shirts and water buffalo platform sandals). But today -- was she feeling it, too? -- she tried on a pair of sophisticated, high-waisted grey slacks with a belted cardigan; she didn't look like any child of mine that I've ever been introduced to. She blew me away. As she said herself, all she needed was a pair of chopsticks in her bun and a Blackberry in her hand and she'd look like every other young career woman hurrying down Park Avenue. I bought her the pants not only because she looked fabulous in them -- all her body parts are still where they're supposed to be -- but as a way of acknowledging this new beginning.

[Okay, no joke, A just walked in the door and is pressuring me to go watch "Amazing Wedding Cakes" on tv with her. Love cake, love that show. But could someone please explain what fondant is?]

Back to my working girl. Can I just tell you how exciting it is to watch her grow up? How thrilling it is to see her pursuing her dream, to hear the passion and excitement in her voice when she tells me about something that she's learning in her studio class or that she's found a photographer to take her headshots or that she'll take me to the Oscars someday so that I can buy an Oscar-worthy dress? Seriously, I've already got the jacket to go with it.

I'll admit it, I don't relish the idea of growing old: who does? I'm fighting the whole physical aging thing with everything I've got; I had enough of wearing white orthopedic shoes when I was a Friendly's waitress in high school. But if growing older means getting to watch my children grow into their dreams, bring it on. It's so incredibly exciting. It's my great privilege.

In the meantime, "Amazing Wedding Cakes" and A are calling.