Star-Spangled Spectacle

Given the nature of the celebration, our finale of emotional fireworks was fitting. In fact, most experiences involving kids, especially my youngest, Tara, include some level of inevitable meltdown.

The outing started out hopeful, as it always does. We had an idyllic view of the Oklahoma City skyline at sunset from our perch on the steep, grassy hill overlooking downtown.

A large stage was setup at the base of the expansive hill where the Oklahoma City Philharmonic ultimately performed a 4th of July concert of recognizable favorites building to a fireworks finale.

Adorable little girls outfitted in red, white, and blue were walking around with a lit-up, cardboard sign selling glow stick decor like bracelets, glow-stick wands, and even footballs.

A swift rain that swept through just an hour prior had threatened to spoil the planned festivities, but graciously cleared out just before the show started. The kids gathered on a large blanket, which was dampened after being placed on the wet grass.

My girls played ring toss with our new, glowing treasures while we waiting for the performance to begin.

Claire, my oldest, complained of being eaten up by bugs.

Chloe, my middle child, and her friend, Gavi, waited for an hour and a half in line for snow-cones, missing the majority of the philharmonic concert, only for Tara to spill hers less than a minute after getting it. Nearly inconsolable she bellowed, “but they wasted two hours in line waiting on it!”

Cell phones towers must have been overloaded because reception was so poor no one could send or receive texts from about 7:30 to 11:30, meaning we weren’t able to communicate with Tara’s friend, who we were supposed to be meeting.

Something that continues to reiterate itself to us during this, our adventure summer, is that not every moment of every experience is going to be enjoyable. Every participant will simultaneously have a different perspective, adding richness to the adventure. Part of the beauty is to embrace it all, to appreciate the highs and the lows, and to take the good with the bad.

A Perspective Symphony

Tara has always been a remarkably observant and resourceful child. She takes in and focuses on everything around her, making her prone to distraction, but also seeing more than just the task at hand or what’s right in front of her.

The sun had fully disappeared behind the skyline when just the two of us set off on a dark, meandering journey to the closest trashcan, which wasn’t close enough at all. We weaved our way through clusters of people on blankets and lawn chairs, then down a winding sidewalk. While we walked she pointed out her observations like dogs on leashes and festively decorated seats.

“Look, mom! There are glowsticks on that tree over there!” she laughed, pointing at one of the sparse trees on the hillside that was adorned with the necklaces and bracelets being sold by the mini-entrepreneurs.

We reached the trashcan and disposed of our sticky snow cone cups and spoons, and started the trek back to our little spot on the hillside. Tara insisted on leading the way, using her initial observations as landmarks guiding us home.

“Follow me, mom! Just follow my wand!” she instructed.

She led us back through the maze of people and dogs with impressive accuracy, and past the glow tree, but when she got to our little stake of land, she sped up and continued on past it.

Miraculously, amidst the vastness of the hillside—a testament to her keen observational skills—she had found Charlotte, the friend we had intended to meet. While I was just focused on finding and getting back to our blanket, she was observing the world around us, which led to the discovery of her friend. It’s incredible how often these fortuitous encounters happen to us during large city gatherings. Charlotte and her group were sitting just 30 yards away from us, and thankfully, she had also acquired a glowstick wand, an essential prop for wielding like lightsabers during the orchestra’s rendition of the Star Wars theme.

While our view of the skyline and concert was perfect, our view of the fireworks show was perfectly obstructed, by one of the solitary trees sprinkled across the hillside. But it didn’t matter, the younger two just moved their lightsaber fight to a different patch of grass with a better view and we watched as the lights reflected in realtime off of the downtown buildings.

We all had vastly different takeaways of the same event. It’s always enlightening seeing each scene play out in real time through the different perspectives of my girls.

Claire, who was musically trained in percussion in the Deer Creek band, enjoyed the orchestra.

“This is kind of lame,” I overheard the teenagers lament to each other, after their excitement at hearing the Star Wars theme had passed.

It was all fun and games for Tara and Charlotte, until the show was over and it was time to separate and head for the car.

And what’s an Oklahoma event without hearing a bullhorn sermon on your walk out?

She’s a firecracker

The trouble really began when on the walk through a field to the vehicle, Tara, already tired and overstimulated, tripped over a large, obstructed tree stump and fell head-first into a deep hole, her head disappearing into the overgrown grass, feet flailing in the air. She was physically unharmed, but her ego was bruised, made worse when Chloe and Gavi fell into an uncontrollable fit of giggles at the sight of her little legs unexpectedly replacing the space where her head had been just moments before.

It didn’t help her emotional state that when she turned around to tattle on them for laughing at her misfortune, she caught her own mother failing to suppress laughter.

Blaring horns, car alarms, and Tara’s weary cries of exhaustion from the back seat created a cacophony as traffic crawled only a block in a span of 45 minutes.

Occasionally, in an explosive bid for attention, she’d yell out something like, “You hate me!”

After my patience had run thin and exhaustion took over, I began to take the bait, acting with the same demeanor as my 6-year-old, responding with, “I don’t hate you. I hate the way you’re acting. I don’t want to hear you make another sound until we get home!” Which, of course, didn’t happen. The scene kept playing on repeat for nearly an hour-and-a-half while we all desperately wished to be home.

Through the chaos of the evening, amidst the meltdowns, spilled snow cones, and obstructed views, a powerful truth emerged: not every moment of every adventure will be smooth or picture-perfect. That’s just life, isn’t it? It’s the highs and lows, the contrasting perspectives that shape our journey and make it all the more meaningful.

My thirties have been so weird to me, filled to the brim with personal failures and triumphs, professional successes and setbacks, a lot of emotional pain and a lot of rejuvenating joy. I wouldn’t be where I am today without the whole journey, including the chaos! In a position to truly enjoy and embrace my present.

What others tend to see of our lives tends to be the spectacle, the fireworks of our lives. The bright lights, the pieces that are captivating and dazzling. But behind the vibrant bursts of light, there are also imperfections and challenges that make our journey unique.

Since my re-entry into the social media arena I’m seeing this more and more. Family members or friends will share photo montages, but when I reach out to have a discussion about it, I learn so much more than the photos reveal.

The true story is in embracing every flicker, every burst, and every imperfection beyond the bright lights.

So, here I am, sharing our journey in it’s entirety, showcasing the whole picture—the laughter, the tears, and the moments of frustration, celebrating the freedom to be authentic, to embrace the highs and lows, and for each and every one of us to appreciate our own personal 4th of July.

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