O: Momma, you promise you will come and kiss me softly when you get home and I am asleep? But very softly so you don't wake me up, ok?
K: I promise.
I'm going to brag. I survived last week. Not only did I survive last week, but Jim, O, P and Sam survived last week. The house remained livable. Everyone ate. Most of us slept, occasionally. Success!
Tech week is always hard. It is the final push before the audience joins us and becomes part of the process. It is where all of the technical elements come together and costumes and lights and sound and some semblance of acting collide. It is hard. It is usually a lot of late nights. It is often painful. It is always magic.
There was a lot of magic this week: the talented tech crew and designers who had one only week and made everything in this complicated show work, the professional staff at the playhouse who are bravely pushing boundaries and getting butts in the seats, the phenomenal team of actors with whom I am privileged to share the stage, the fantastic babysitters who lovingly watched my girls while I worked, my incredible preschool community who would sign O out after school when I was running late, the neighbor who popped over to sit with P while she slept so I didn't have to wake her in the middle of her nap, the unbelievably supportive theatre family who filled the house during our previews and opening, the grandparents who pulled an all-nighter so Jim could be there for our first show, and Jim, who has always been there, and always will be there, encouraging me to push past my own beliefs of what I'm capable of, and who (maybe more impressive) did bedtime duty, alone, for the past two months.
The show is up. We had a sold-out opening, a very positive review, and a lot of champagne to celebrate. It really could not have been better.
And tonight, I get to be home for bedtime snuggles, and that might be the most magical part of the whole thing.
Glad to be back. Still not sure how today ends.