The Nutcracker

Warning: This post is fraught with public admissions of mistreatment to my parents, confessions of bad behavior, and general attitude problems. Just to warn you. My image may be knocked down a few pegs here. I can handle it though.

When I was about 14 years old I became the devil incarnate. Really. It's true. I was a beastly teenager and I am so scared for the karma that is undoubtedly mine to come in the next 4-5 years. But still, I'm pretty sure that whatever teenage Abigail has at the ready, it will be nothing compared to what I put my parents through at the same age. Evil makes me sound like a spring day when trying to describe my behavior.

Well, it was during this time that my parents wanted to try out a new Christmas tradition. They bought 6 tickets to the Nutcracker for all of us to go to together. It had to be expensive, I'm sure. It had to be a bargaining session between my parents, I'm sure of as well (my dad and dancing? Ummm. No.). It was a sacrifice to say the least.

When we got there I remember all the velvet everywhere. The giant nutcrackers in the entry to welcome us. Everything was so pretty. We climbed up flights and flights of stairs to our seats and got settled. After that it only took a few minutes for me to begin to ruin everything. I think I even set an Olympic record. A tall guy ended up sitting right in front of me, and so I threw a fit. I was the little bear in the bed and made everyone roll over until someone fell out and then I wrecked the entire evening. I'm sure I thrashed around in my seat so much that even people who weren't my family members began getting annoyed. I've never thought of that before now!! I probably owe an apology to total strangers as well!!

Dear total strangers,

If you went to the Nutcracker about 18 years ago, and were unfortunate enough to have to sit behind, next to, or in front of a family of 6 with a teenage girl who had blonde hair down to her waist who was acting like a total ingrate, I sincerely apologize. I would try to make it up to you, but apparently my behavior was so bad that it made "ballet" a swear word, and I probably won't be able to remedy that. Just know that my parents were totally disappointed and cannot be held responsible.

Sincerely,

The recovered bratty girl

The ride home from the event was icy, to say the least. Never, never, never, never again would we even think about repeating any event of the kind. Back at home I had a direct line to Satan himself. He called me up on the Devil phone and said "Wow. Nice work. I'm totally impressed. I wouldn't have even gone that far. Kudos to you, Christmas wrecker".

So now, 18 years later and with kids of my own, it is ironic that Jeb's work can get tickets for the event. We've managed to go 2 years in a row; the first year with Abigail and her friend, this year just me and my girls. It's really a lovely event and I enjoy it immensely. The dressing up, the elegant setting, the music. Really lovely. Both years we have invited my parents to come along with us (well, really just my mom. Remember? My dad and dancing? Ain't happening), but they just smirk a little and politely decline. I ask them if it's because of the fact that it is ballet, or the fact that it is ballet with me next to them. They always say they just aren't interested in the production, but I'm pretty sure that if I managed to get them into the theatre they would have a terrible flash back and begin to hyperventilate and paramedics would have to be called. That would be a new story for a new crop of strangers, though, wouldn't it?

I think it was right after Christmas that year that I began to reform, thank heavens. My parents managed to survive. But little did we know what was waiting in the wings - my sister Tracy was about to hit 14. Oh. The. Humanity.

My girls were much better behaved than I ever was. Abigail is taken right from the lifting of the curtain. Leah just had to be reassured that there were actually people in the bear and mice costumes, and that they weren't really real. Then came the only other 2 questions:

"Do all the boys wear girl shoes?"

and

"Are the boys wearing tights, or pants?"