So I've never been superstitious. No knocking on wood, throwing salt over my shoulder or good luck rituals.
Not much freaks me out either. We looked at a house next to a cemetery and I considered it a nice peaceful place for the children to play. Superstition goes against my beliefs and seems to be limiting in so many ways.
Events of the last few months have made me reconsider my stance, so I'm exploring my superstition options. You see, I am the one who bragged at a staff meeting that in 11 years of parenting, we had never had an ER visit. Within the week, we were well acquainted with the place.
I also had the audacity to say to my husband, "the kids haven't been sick at all this year." I know, I know. Stupid.
This week, I was heading off to my son's baseball game. It's getting toward the end of the season and I've been grateful there has not been a spectacularly tragic meltdown like we had at the end of basketball season (camera in purse) after he'd been up all night at a sleepover. As I put the camera in my purse to capture some baseball highlights, I had a pang. A pang as in, maybe having the camera will make this evening turn to crap.
Some background here: 22 years ago I headed off to the hospital to visit my very much alive mother. I tucked my camera into my purse. I felt a pang and ignored it. I hopped in my car, stopped off at McDonald's for a fillet of fish, and by the end of the day my mother was dead.
The thing is, I don't WANT to be superstitious. It seems to represent a lack of faith and freedom.
When I got to the baseball game, camera in purse, our team was winning 5-0, bases loaded, no outs. S-weet! The camera curse was not in effect! Woohooo!
Less than an hour later, we lost 8-6 and one child, who shall remain nameless, was having the most dramatic, epic tantrum in the dugout the likes of which our Little League has never seen before and probably never will again. Later, he cried himself to sleep, lamenting that he had reacted so inappropriately in public. My heart ached for him.
So, you may be saying, "Anna, your child's reactions have nothing to do with your camera and more to do with the fact that organized sports are a challenge for him."
I know, I know.
But I say all of this because the very next day was his school's performance of "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" and I seriously, seriously, considered leaving the camera home. I mean, if a small action on my part could somehow prevent a karmic, cosmic flame-out on a day that was so important to my kid, I was on board.
The thing is, parents DO bring cameras to school plays, and I did not want to be held hostage by crazy thoughts. The camera came.
Shortly after 9 am the play began, with my progeny playing the lead role. Each line flowed silkily off his tongue. His timing was perfect. His movements superb. He was comfortable and in his element. He stayed in character and did not react when a few others flubbed their lines. I wondered-- dare I remove the camera from my bag and capture this moment of glory? I hesitated and thought, "What the heck?" I pulled it out of my purse, and turned it on to document his moment in the sun.
"Memory Card Full."