by Sarah Lolley
My impending doom hit me on the opening night of Cirque du Soleil's Totem performance, which was also my husband Patrick's 36th birthday. It was a rainy night that made lakes of puddles and turned the rain into pelting water bombs. As we found our seats, passing up the bar serving champagne which I longingly desired, I had that feeling I often get at these times of my life. I felt plain stupid.
I was pregnant, again. I have embraced my new role as Accidental Mama with a sense of humor and maybe a little style, but a third! My son was not even one-year-old! He was still breastfeeding. It was the nanny's fault for sure. She had been feeding my son more solid food and telling me not to give him booby. Thanks to spontaneous ovulation and my husband's commando sperm I was going to spend another summer fat and hormonal anticipating the explosion of my loins giving birth to another living being that will probably blame me for scarring their innocence, which might be true. I don't do a good job at endorsing Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. It's the Jewish side of me.
All this was going through my head as the lights went down and a figure in a crystal bodysuit appeared hanging from the ceiling above an organic cell like structure with chanting reptilian characters responding to the descending crystal acrobat. The comparison to my defenseless egg screaming out at the invasion of Patrick's charging sperm was too obvious for my imagination. The crystal form began contorting and swinging from bars inside the membrane as the lizards led a tribal chant and danced around the main attraction. This was what happened inside my uterus for sure. Damn it why didn't the lizards people fight back and kick the glittery man out!
The cell frame was lifted and a mostly naked Native American boy danced around the stage performing clever scenes with rings. This still reminding me of my pregnancy, after all Patrick wanted another boy.
Then a loud European in a speedo comes out yelling about this mama at the audience. Now this reminded me of my Romanian husband that won my heart because he does a great Borat impersonation with his thongs on. Oh lord, is this really my life happening before me under the Big Top?
After the skit, a man resembling the camp style of Vanilla Ice and another man with Ken Doll hair dancing to Bollywood and hip-hop beats was left on the stage. They got in an acrobatic bravado battle over the attention of a woman who had the most beautiful abs I had ever seen. I whimpered at that point. That will never be me and I had hopes and dreams of becoming semi-muscular this summer. I was just feeling them tighten again when bam they were sentenced back to mush.
Just when I was wishing for something that didn't remind me of the organism in my womb to divert my self-absorbed attention, aliens came out of the ground accompanied by two beautiful Las Vegas showgirls dripping in crystals. They twirl and balance crystal towels with their extremities, passing them back and forth with precision. It was a pretty good distraction since it didn't resemble house work at all although I thought it would be fun to dress up in a shiny skin color body suit and prance around the house when I am eight-months prego.
The show's theme is abstractly choreographed around the idea of evolution. Neanderthal and monkey characters play integral parts of antagonizing seemingly civilized characters. There are also scaly figures that evolve out of metaphorical water to perform tricks on land. Wonderful, I knew at 6 weeks pregnant I had a little guppy inside me performing its own evolution.
Before intermission the civilized men at war with the apes tore off their suits to reveal rubber bodysuits! If only Patrick had worn one of those the night of my fateful conception. Yeah, if only Patrick were half the acrobat as these guys were balancing on poles and contorting into strange positions. As it happened for this pregnancy, we were in a weird position on the couch and he couldn't maneuver his way out in time. And that is how I became the Accidental Stupid Mama.
The second half of the show reminded me less of my stupidity, although at one point it did remind me of my marriage. One of the highlights of the show is watching a beautifully sculpted couple theatrically argue over the trapeze and in the end resolve to lean on each other. Yeah that's Patrick and me. Stuck at the end of suspended ropes trying to be the one in charge and resolving to life's defeat of us both.
FYI:
I wanted to wait to post this story until I told my parents the news of my third pregnancy.
My dad laughed at me and said, "It's going to be like a chicken farm around here."
I said with my two blond children at my feet, "I was hoping for a red head this time."
He said, "Great, a rooster."
Here's to the balancing act of life.
Totem runs in Pittsburgh until June 4th. Imagine yourself pregnant for the third time in three years while watching it for an added thrill. Not!
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