The Full Suburban: A life in the spotlight light will suit her just fine

We are all born to do something. Tom Cruise was born to look cool in a fighter jet. The inventor of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup was born to bring joy to all mankind. Grumpy men in the Costco parking lot were born to honk at me when they think I’m going to back into their car.

My daughter Jane was born to be on the stage. We’ve known this since she was very young and we first discovered that she had a flair for the dramatic. We have video evidence of her as a toddler changing from a “happy face” to a very convincing “sad face” on command.

As a 3-year-old, her histrionics were so epic that a construction worker who was frequently in our home for a remodeling project started calling her “Calamity Jane.”

When she was 6 and the animated movie “Frozen” first came out, she connected with it deeply in her soul. One afternoon, she asked me to blast “Let It Go” (the knock-out anthem of the movie) on our kitchen speakers. She put on some white gloves (just like Elsa) and belted out the song word for word, even ripping off the gloves at the most dramatic part and flinging them into air behind her.

It wasn’t until years later, when she was about 12, that we started really looking into getting her into musical theater. I took her to one of her first auditions in early 2020, and we sat in confusion in the parking lot of the theater company, wondering with a few other parents and kids why the doors were locked and no one was inside, even though it had clearly been advertised that auditions were starting that day.

“Do you think this could have something to do with that coronavirus thing we keep hearing about?” the parents asked each other as we stared at the locked front door. We soon found out that yes, it did. Like most things that year, Jane’s theater dreams were put on hold. She compensated by memorizing entire episodes of her favorite shows on Netflix, and treating us to impromptu, top-of-the-lungs performances of songs from numerous Broadway musicals.

This year is the year she finally got her chance. Her high school’s theater department announced that they would be putting on “The Wizard of Oz,” and nothing could stop Jane from trying out. She practiced lines, picked the perfect audition song, and became familiar with the ins and outs of the Land of Oz, including how to master a munchkin voice.

Jane felt like her audition went well, but you can never tell with these things, and we were all nervous to find out whether she would get to be part of the play. We made her promise the instant the cast list was posted on the theater door, she would text us to let us know if she got a part.

True to her dramatic nature, Jane made us wait in agony for a full 10 minutes before she texted us with the news: She got a part! The merry old Land of Oz, as well as the entire Ditto household, rejoiced.

Opening night was a couple weeks ago, and Jane has absolutely been in her element. No rehearsal is too long, no costume too uncomfortable, no fake eyelashes too unwieldy. She loves it all.

And as a mom, I don’t know if there is anything greater than seeing your child shine doing something she loves. On opening night, I sat with rapt attention as the curtain opened for the first time, knowing that I was about to see the thing that had captivated my daughter’s time and heart for so many weeks. To see brought to life what she had described to us in detail day after day – and to see her right in the middle of it – was completely thrilling.

As of this writing, she still has three performances to go until the show wraps, and she is already dreading what her days and nights will be like without rehearsals and performances to look forward to. But I tell her that she doesn’t have to worry; when you find what you’re born to do, you’ll never be left in the dark for long. She was made for the spotlight.

Julia Ditto shares her life with her husband, six children and a random menagerie of farm animals in Spokane Valley. She can be reached at dittojulia@gmail.com.