I'll tell you a secret: I love the Academy Awards. Don't get me wrong, I think Amy Adams was robbed of a nomination for Arrival, and I am so ready to see more people of color receive the accolades they deserve for their work. That said, there's something magical about Oscar night, from the glamour of the red carpet to the tear-filled speeches. As a mom, I frequently find myself imagining my kids up there, thanking me for my support. It's easy to do. There are clear signs your kid is going to win an Oscar someday, and my kids definitely show them all on a daily basis.
There's the drama injected into everyday situations. "I simply cannot do my homework, mom, I'll die," and the accompanying endless streams of tears and shouting matches. Then, there's the completely normal, but also completely infuriating tendency for them to lie about the smallest things. If they don't win an Oscar someday, one of them is sure to become president instead. I put money on our youngest daughter or oldest son.
Our older kids are always singing, some better than others, belting out pop tunes and silly songs in the shower, in the car, to entertain their baby brother, and to make homework and getting up in the morning cheerful and fun. While it's delightful, it also makes us want to invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Our daughters are also our family screenwriters and directors, thriving on opportunities to tell their siblings what to do and create new scripts, improv scenarios, and choreography for them to perform on video or in the living room, while we look on. They have some amazing "leadership skills."
Mark my words, in a few years, you'll see one of my kids up there on stage. I just hope that when they give their acceptance speeches, they don't credit their weird mom with their ability to cry on command.