When Plans Go Awry ...

When I was in college I took several theatre classes and really enjoyed learning all about what happens behind the curtain in order to create the illusion on stage. During this time I took a job as the stage manager for the college ballet company. And that's when I learned what the text books didn't teach us.

I learned how to babysit 23 talented, eccentric, and emotional dancers (male and female). With practice and determined leadership from the ballet company director, we produced many wonderful shows that I was pleased to have been part of. Making it look easy from the audience point of view is some of the hardest work I've ever done. And catering to the needs of 30 something people who are narcissistic and continually needy was a "boot camp" experience for which I would later be thankful.

Being the stage manager for a ballet means that once the show leaves the rehearsal location with the stamp of approval from the director and moves into the performance location the director is basically finished. He can go home. At that point it is up to the stage manager to maintain the integrity of what the director envisioned and make sure it all comes off without a hitch. It's a railroad car full of detail that balances precariously upon a track that leads from dress rehearsal to show strike. Every aspect of what should, could, and would happen must be controlled by the stage manager. When I worked that job I felt more capable and successful than any other time in my life. Because I was stage manager and because everyone working in and for the show knew that I had complete control, everyone did what I said and everything happened perfectly according to the planned time line and multitude of lists I sketched out on paper and carried around with me in a big black notebook. I said do it and it was done. No one asked me why. No one changed the plan. No one argued. No one came up with their own idiotic idea. They all followed instructions to the letter. And the shows were fabulous and I earned a reputation for being one of the best stage managers in the area. One season we did 24 shows in 18 months. I had 24 notebooks with perfect plans. It was so exhilarating.

I thought that having a talent for being this organized would give me an advantage in being a Mother and managing a family. ((I will pause at this point for everyone who is doubled over with laughter at that statement to regain their composure.))

My mother tried to warn me. She kept telling me, "Jacque, you've got to think of them as people, not toy soldier." Or warning me, "Jacque, you can't expect a frog to fly." And even explaining to me, "Jacque, are you sure you want to take this on? They're a family of people and they've had 20 years of dealing with each other and establishing their own dynamics. You've just stepped into the circle. You don't know anything about dealing with them and you certainly haven't been exposed to these kinds of dynamics!"

But no, I wasn't stopping in my zeal to have yet another opportunity to run a well oiled and organized machine that would be all my own and I would be the director AND the stage manager. I should have listened to my mother.

I spend time contemplating the needs of everyone in the house, the requirements of the schedules we all have to follow, the details involved in making sure everything runs smoothly. And once I have a plan worked out I take pains to explain it to the group and give them lists or schedules or diagrams that will help them understand what they are supposed to do.

But they don't follow instructions. I have a family plagued with Attention Deficit Disorder. When time after time they looked at me with vacant eyes and spoke in confused sentences that they couldn't remember me even talking about whatever it was, I decided everyone needed to get checked out. Our family doctor rendered the diagnosis - they all have it. Not only don't they follow the instructions I give them, but the choices they make on their own in substitution of my original instructions make no sense whatsoever and do not coincide with my well organized and logically devised plans. It's like dealing with a family of amnesiacs. Every day it seems to be a brand new world for them.

I forgot. I must have forgotten. I guess I forgot. Ooops. I don't remember you saying that. I don't remember agreeing to that. I don't remember saying that. That doesn't sound like something I would have said. When did we talk about that? Did we even discuss that? That wasn't what I remember we discussed. Did you put that on my list? Did you write that down somewhere? I can't be expected to remember that. I haven't remembered that. I probably won't remember that. Did you say something? What's your name????

Is there anyone out there who has any idea how enormously frustrating this would be for me? Will anyone understand the monumental strain it takes on my part to hold on to some aspect of my sanity while everyone around me is flying along by the seat of their pants and completely unaware of their total annihilation of my plans? The plans, by the way, that make their lives successful and functional because, if left to their own devices, they wouldn't even be able to find their way out of a paper sack if it wasn't for me dragging them along ... this way, this way ... come on ... THIS WAY DAMMIT!

So evidently I am standing on one extreme side of the fence and they are standing on the other. I don't know if we'll ever meet in the middle. As time has passed, I have attempted to recognize that they are human ("Jacque, you've got to think of them as people, not toy soldiers."), relax my expectations ("Jacque, you can't expect a frog to fly."), and try to open my mind to understand that being different doesn't mean that you're wrong ("Jacque, are you sure you want to take this on? ....").

When faced with this kind of difficulty and drain on my stamina there are times when I need a reality check. So I visit my Momma - without the ADD people in tow - and I ask for her opinion on issues or events that have transpired. I always get the same answer, "Jacque, I raised you to do the right thing. Listen to your gut and follow what it tells you." On my way home, feeling better and once again grounded in reality, I thank God that what she doesn't say is, "I told you so!" Because we both know I should have listened to her in the first place.