A few days ago I made a very adult decision.
I oscillate between maturity and immaturity given the day the hour. So for me, this decision was huge.
In May, American Idol announced they'd be holding auditions in my hometown. Even though I had given up on watching the show (it kind of died for me when Simon left), I have always wanted to audition. Having missed my chance the first time auditions rolled through St. Louis (to be present for rush week for my sorority...OH, YES), I toyed with the idea of auditioning this year. For those that don't know, Idol cuts you off from auditioning after age 28. So, this was really my last shot.
My husband and I even got plans in place for TIH in case he and I got held up late at the auditions (because OF COURSE he had to go with me), I told my boss about it, I had my co-workers all ready to be pretend Steven/JLo/Randy for my final "rehearsal," and I had polled just about everyone I knew about what songs I should sing.
Then, my husband's grandmother passed away and I ended up taking an entire week away from work in order to attend the funeral and spend some time with his family. The minute I turned in my request for leave, I knew my American Idol dream was over.
The thing is? I don't really mind it that much.
Yes. I want to be the next Carrie Underwood (and have her legs and beautiful hair too). Yes. I still have dreams about having a performance career.
I also want to be able to be with my family in a time of need. I want to be able to be with my son at all times (and not that I had any delusion of making it past the audition process, but can you IMAGINE a 1 year old at Hollywood Week?) I want to be a responsible employee that doesn't follow up a week of leave with two more days of leave.
So, I didn't go.
I watched our local Fox affiliate interview Idol hopefuls. Watched them sing their 30 seconds of "Rolling in the Deep" and "Jesus Take the Wheel." A twinge of jealousy? Yes.
Mostly? Just a gut feeling that I was doing the right thing.
Also, not being jealous at all of having to stand out in the awful summer humidity so common to this area.
I think sometimes there are just dreams we grow out of. I used to really want to tour the country or work on a cruise ship, but then I met my husband, fell head over heels (I know, vom), and a new dream was born - living a blissfully happy life with him.
I was a member of a cover band starting the year I got married. I sang with them all throughout my pregnancy (Seriously. Up until I was about 8 months pregnant and had to sit down while singing because otherwise I'd start having contractions. So punk rock.) My plan was to immediately return to singing with the band, and well - you all can guess how that went.
I haven't actually been back on a stage to perform (unless you count singing Ave Maria at my husband's grandmother's funeral last week) since I had TIH. Strangely, though I miss the rush I get from performing, I haven't even given it that much thought.
That's not to say I don't still want to be a rockstar sometimes. I think I've just redefined what rockstar means to me.
My wardrobe changes usually involve someone spitting up.
My regular performances usually involve singing some verse of "If You're Happy and You Know It."
My sleepless nights have nothing to do with sitting around at the bar after doing the 9:00 pm - 1:00 am show.
My guitar has dust on it, my sparkly gig shirts don't fit anymore, and my liquid liner is dried out.
I'm still very happy.
I think we never let go of our old dreams. They just kind of grow with us. Our heart grows to fit all of it in.
And what can I say? Old dreams die hard.
Maybe I won't be the next American Idol. But, I get to be New Mom on the Blog. That's pretty cool. I'll take it.
This was two months before I was pregnant with TIH. The recording quality is awful, I completely flubbed up most of the chords on the guitar, and I came straight from a dance audition so I was looking sweaty and wilted. And? It was AWESOME.