That you are here is indication there is something for you to create, be and do. With every new idea your life becomes a canvass to be filled. There is nothing to complete because life is always in motion, life is always evolving and you are always growing. Nothing you have done so far was the end only the first in the series of steps waiting for more to be added to form that which you will become. Worry not that all the education, jobs, activities, or creations do not seem to go together for they will all mesh together as the collective ingredients in what you will create, be and do in the future.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Rounds of Enthusiasm

I do all my best thinking at the kitchen table. I prepare food, sign school work there and create the next plan of action. It eventually became the place where I created a home-based business. I wanted to develop a way to make money and be at home with my children as much as possible. As I sat there one morning after the children left for school, I pondered what kind of business would serve all our needs and be fun at the same time. The phone rang interrupting my drizzles of brainstorms. It was my baby-sitter, my confidant, my friend Lisa.

You remember that clown outfit you made yourself on Halloween?” She asked. When I said yes, she asked, “Could you please, please wear it and be a clown for Sara's birthday?” Quit surprised by her request I said, “Sure why not.” So the following weekend I entertained ten six-year old's for two hours. I had so much fun that it suddenly idea sparked. That's it, children’s birthday parties. I can start a clown business entertaining at children's birthday parties.

So I went back to the drawing kitchen table. Working all day I created a birthday package with two clowns, balloons, music, cake, pinatas, candy, face painting; the works. I drew up a flyer, made several copies and had all the kids at the kitchen table coloring them. I had a little apprehension over Kesha's eight year old coloring job. Insisting on coloring as many posters as Kesha could muster her enthusiasm was heady so I tried to relax. With minimal expense I then began my business.

I asked Tina to play the second clown and we rehearsed over and over, a slapstick boxing routine. Kesha couldn't help her excitement as she watched. Periodically insisting on participating she would become over zealous and interrupt my serious business venture. Sometimes I would have to be creative and I would give her a script to help keep us on track.

I got my first call for a party right away. It was a joy, our routine went over like gangbusters and I only worked a couple of days a week. Tina earned money by being a great clown. As clowns Bumper and Stomper were a smash hit.

After doing parties for a couple months’ soccer season started and Tina played faithfully. I booked a party and she couldn't work with me because of a soccer game. I called a friend to work with me, and we began rehearsing. The morning of the party she called and said something came up, and she couldn't work. Great, I thought, five hours before the party, and no one to work, I stood in the kitchen holding the dead phone as my mind drifted to the party. I was standing alone in the boxing ring, boxing with a non-existing clown, falling to the ground resulting from a punch of a non-existing glove. Although I chuckled from the comical fear this dream inflicted I was not very amused. I began pacing the floor ranting out loud, “What am I going to do?” I dialed several back-ups, but no one could work. I began pacing again and growling, “What to do, what to do?” Kesha was jumping up and down around me saying, “I could do it, I can, I can.”

I looked at her with doubt. “Kesha you're only eight, you're too little.” I then went back to worrying, while Kesha bounced around me begging. I got back on the phone and called my sister, “Susan please, please come help me! I have no one to be the other clown.” She had helped me once, but swore she would never do it again. She said after the last time 'when those little punks stomped on my feet and taunted that I wasn't a real clown, she wouldn't again. I tried to convince her that the abuse was rare, but she wouldn't budge. She only said, “Good luck,” and hung up.

I had to agree with Susan that it wasn't always so much fun. I couldn't help being amused at my self-inflicted joy. I grumbled and started pacing the kitchen again, getting more worried at every turn. Kesha again jumped up and down bubbling with excitement. “I can do it mom!” She was starting to look a little better all the time. “Kesha you don't even have time to learn the routine, besides you’re too short.”

Mom,” She said, “I've been listening to you and Tina practice. I can do it.” I looked down at her, contemplating the non-existent alternatives. I finally broke down and said, “Well I don't have much choice. Let’s see how you do.”

So we began rehearsing. We had only two and half hours and I was a very nervous. But much to my surprise Kesha knew every word of Tina’s part. I had my little ebullient clown. After we rehearsed a little more, I put her makeup on and we were off to the party.

When we arrived I came in as usual, skipping and honking my big horn. The children turned to see what was coming. They turned and saw Kesha and squealled, ‘Look it’s a baby clown.”
With all their excitement and energy they ran to greet and touch her. I was amazed at their response to Baby Stomper. We did the famous whose stronger, big or little clown slapstick boxing routine. I was rather surprised; our routine had never received such a response. Kesha's zealous portrayal of the amazingly strong baby clown was hilarious.

After the routine all the children chased her everywhere, around and around till she almost dropped. She then started to become the child she was. “I’m tired and hungry mom. Can I have some cake?”

The children screeched with delight when they heard Kesha. “It’s a Mama Clown,” they said of me. How right they where. A Mama clown I was. I was grateful for my enthusiastic short baby clown. She had saved my day.

At first I didn’t recognize that Kesha’s spirit was aching to fly. Too often she screeched loudly her needs causing some of us to become numb at what she needed. Kesha stood tall and proud at her accomplishment that day. I stood humble gaining respect for Kesha's abilities at eight. My belief in Kesha at that moment was critical. She went on to play Stomper a few more times in the future and I accepted her performance proudly. The restrictions we place on ourselves and then on to our children keep us from living to the fullest. My children have a way of breaking me out of my box. I give them my humble appreciation.

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