My Child After All

My two boys.
Both so talented, such individuals.  Brought up in the way that only my husband and I could raise them--with our mix of travel, and culture, and literature.  Raised in the backseat of the van, in the theatre, the library and in museums all across the country.  Very proud of them.  Two completely unique individuals.  Handsome.  Kind.  Funny.

But so often, I look at them and I don't recognize them at all.  They seem to have none of me in them.  I see plenty of their father, but none of me.   And I wonder, "Whose children are these???  Because they're sure not mine!"

I'm theatre through and through.  Outgoing.  Talking to strangers always--at Wal-Mart, Burger King, Disney World, in the audience.  I'm a risk-taker, a...what does Joe Siefker call it?  An Experience Collector.  Rarely do I let a moment for fun, for adventure, a chance to do something new go by.  I try to recognize those once-in-a-lifetime moments and make sure that they happen for me, for those around me.  Skydiving.  The Star Wars Convention.  Re-enactments at Gettysburg.  A whale watch.

My two boys?  They take after my husband.  They would rather stay home, rather watch TV, read a book, play a game--than go out and do something new, have an adventure, LIVE.  Sometimes it makes me mad.  Sometimes I'm saddened by it.  Sometimes I force them to go.:-)  They can thank me for it later. 

Something I noticed about them early on--they never want to sit on the aisle when we go to a show.  They're afraid that the cast will come storming down into the audience, demanding that members of the audience get up and dance, sing, come up on stage and be a part of the show.  Sitting on the aisle increases that chance, so they always sit to the inside.  They don't ride roller coasters.  They don't want to try water-skiing or sky-diving or white water rafting.  They don't want to climb trees or take a mule ride to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.  They don't want to get out of the car and stand on the rocky shore screaming into the wind and the waves.  They just want to watch from the safety of the car.  Take a photo.  Read about it.  I don't understand it.  How can these two be MY children???

They don't work hard at anything.  They give up.  Papers and school projects?  Meh.  Minimum requirements met and that's all.  Enough to get by.  Whereas I want to add a fancy border to a poster, gather props for a class presentation, dress up even, go the extra mile for extra credit, they don't.  Many times, big and creative ideas stay just that.  They don't have the umph to follow through, to make it happen.  They get discouraged.  They give up.  It can't be done.  This, too, is an attitude I don't understand.  I, the original Can-Do person.  The Bob-the-Builder of children's theatre.  I, who look for ways to make it happen, rather than reasons why it won't.

Both of them, so negative.  Glass half-empty kids.  Look on the dark side.  Plan for the worst.  I just don't get it.  Don't understand how they can go through life like that.  Feel sad for them and their outlook.

***********************

So today, I told #2 that he was going to be retained in the 7th grade.  I looked at his face.  Watched him.  He impassively watched me back.  I said, "How do you feel about that?"  And he said, "I need it.  I didn't learn enough this year. [pause] And I'll get to have Mrs. Day again. [pause] And when else will I get to learn about Japan?  I'll get to do that again, too."

And in that moment, I saw me.  My child.  In the face of what to a 7th grader must be devastating news, he was looking for the positive, the good, the silver lining.  I pulled him up onto my lap.  I am small, yes, but he is smaller.  And I just hugged him.  Told him I was proud of him.  For taking it so well.  For understanding.  And for seeing the good things through the bad news.

It will be the best thing for him.  He's so small.  Not real mature.  He didn't learn the things he needs to move on.  Better now than later.  And he's right.  He'll get to have Mrs. Day again and she's been really good for him.  He hates change, and so this works well for him.  Another year to grow, another year to learn.

And we will learn together--my own boy and me.

Spring Break's Best Accomplishment

So I didn't go anywhere or do anything special, but I've had a GREAT Spring Break.  I got TONS of stuff accomplished in the theatre world:  1) I finished the KidsPlay playbill (yes, Heidi, I left room for those couple of ads); 2) I made Aubree a cute little purple and white cheerleading outfit, complete with a fried egg appliqued on the front; 3) I made Reuben a dog costume; 4) I'm most of the way through a pond costume (don't ask); 5) I got the entire set painted; 6) and the decorations for the set cut out; 7) I got my camp plays scanned (huge accomplishment). And I'm sure there are other things that aren't jumping to mind right now--poems started and partial articles written.



I got stuff done here at home--I got Ben's room cleaned up.  You have no idea what a task this was.  Picture 6" deep of Legos, collector cards and fast food toys.  I didn't necessarily get it put away, but all boxed up in five (count 'em) large plastic bins.  They're taking up space in the garage now, but at least they're off the floor and contained.


I spent time with the family.  We did some shopping.  We took in a couple museums:  the Glick Indiana History Center, which was pretty cool.  We went to see their "You Are There" features, one of which was Bobby Kennedy giving a short speech in Indianapolis on the day MLK was shot.  It was pretty moving, and I actually got tears in my eyes.  We also went down to Circle Center Mall, ate at Johnny Rocket's, and walked around some.  We also enjoyed the costume exhibit at the Children's Museum.  We watched a lot of movies at home--stupid stuff and good stuff--with our friend Corey, and watched some good basketball.  Nice 'home-time' together.


But I guess my happiest accomplishment is that I read two books.  I call myself a reader, but I don't read that much anymore.  Sadly, I'm too busy.  And if I do read, it's a script.  And that's fine, but I miss it.  I see books I'd like to read if I ever got some down time.  I'm very busy these days...two shows in production, another one going on at the high school, laying the groundwork for my summer teen show and the day camp...but I MADE the time.  I read A Thousand Splendid Suns and Water for Elephants.  Both were really good and I enjoyed them a LOT.  I miss reading.  Note to self:  make time.  MAKE time.


So tomorrow, we start back to our normal busy-ness routine.  Rehearsals four nights next week, photos on Thursday with KidsPlay.  Busy, busy.  But I will be sure to have a book with me in the 'Spare Time' bag.  ;-)

A Small Good Out of the Sorrow

"The space shuttle fell out of the sky...."  That's how the song lyric went.  A bleak time of year, and a bleak day in our nation's history.  Who can ever forget the photo of the family looking up, and up--the photo capturing that moment, still in wonder and not quite in horror--not just yet.  It's like we forgot space was dangerous, that astronauts had died, even before leaving the launchpad.  The feeling around this mission was so lighthearted.  A teacher was going into space.  One of my own.  A new day, a new world, where routine space travel actually seemed in reach.  And then, disaster.  Horror.  Grief.  An auspicious beginning to 1986.

The darkness and depressive feeling of those days pushed my husband John to get moving, do something new, get himself out of the house.  In the wake of the shuttle disaster, he signed up for a painting class at the Indianapolis Art League in Broad Ripple.  It was there that he met a short, mouthy girl who was studying to be a teacher.  And the rest is history.  A small personal history...a small something good came out of that national depression and grief.  Twenty-five years ago.

A letter to my #1

My dearest son—

I was inspired to write you this letter after hearing a year-long, decade-long retrospective of sound bites on the radio of 2010 and the preceding decade.  I was struck by the number of events that made up 2010 and marveled at what a full year it was.  I was also inspired to write it after noticing your ‘down-in-the-dumps-ness’ last evening. 

A new year is a time to reflect on the passing of time.  Lots of people feel sad and nostalgic when they look back because of missed opportunities and times, places and people that will never come again.  Yes, there are those things, but it’s also a time to look at what a full and wonderful year 2010 was for you.  The dawn of 2010 found you in the new and challenging environment of a new school.  What a courageous move for you, son--to leave the school system where you’d been for eleven years and start out fresh.  It was a GOOD move for you.  Suddenly, you had friends to hang out with—you made LOTS of friends and met people you never would have if you hadn’t moved.  Suddenly you had activities to be involved with: Theatre and Japanese Club and your HeroClix group!!  I only wish we’d moved you sooner.  You’ve had a couple girlfriends, you graduated from high school, you got a job.  You got a car.  You met every major teenage milestone.  You started to college.

Now I understand that it may not be the job you want to spend the rest of your life in, but I assure you that you are far better off than most teens.  You work in one of the most prestigious places in town and you work for two of the nicest, fairest employers there are.  Again, son, it may not be what you had wanted for yourself, but look at the big picture--you didn't give up.  You are slowly but surely reaching your goals.  Look around you.  There are many, many people who started out with very lofty goals, and had have to lower their expectations—or have quit altogether.  You, my dear son, have started out low and are moving higher.  In May, you’ll have completed your first year of college.  Many don’t even make it that far. It’s true.  You are on track with your goals and you are moving forward.   Keep your eyes on the prize, my son.

And most of all, 2010 was FUN.  We did shows:  The One-Acts and "May the Farce Be With You".  We saw great movies:  “Harry Potter” and “Iron Man” and “Toy Story 3” and “How to Train Your Dragon” and “Tangled” and “Scott Pilgrim” and “Tron” and “True Grit”.  We went to the Lake and to GenCon and to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  We survived the drama camp and ate out more times that I can count and had great parties, went bowling and played miniature golf, and walked in the woods, and on beaches, threw rocks in a lake, and dug in the sand, went to festivals, and museums, and saw parades, and had fun with LOTS of people.  And we probably laughed more in 2010 than in any previous year because of YouTube alone.

My beloved child, I entreat you not to be sad.  If you are like me, you will have to fight off bouts of sadness your entire life.  Don’t let the darkness win.  You are a wonderful person, with lots to offer.  You have many people who love you and you love them in return, make no mistake.

The trick to happiness—and I honestly believe this—is to find the joy in the little things.  Find reasons to laugh; find comfort in the joy of knowing that you are loved; and pay your blessings forward.   These are the secrets to day-to-day happiness.

I love you very much.  As your mom, I want so many things for you, but mostly, I want you to be happy.  In happiness, you will find success.

Love,

Your mom

Things That Make Life Worth Living--Thanksgiving Edition

I posted on Facebook that my thankfuls were 'shallow' this year, and then I proceeded to name off a bunch of fluff that basically shows me to be the self-centered, spoiled, ungrateful middle-class American that I am the other 364 days of the year.  But, seriously, isn't that what Thanksgiving has boiled down to?  Food, football, and shopping?  ;-)  Well, I have no desire to go all preachy, but...methinks I haven't done a 'reason for living' blog post in a while, so it might be time.

Reasons for Living (Reasons to be Thankful)
1.  I'm thankful for knowledge and my ability to absorb it:  for National Public Radio, the History Channel, Newsweek, Smithsonian, for books, and countless museums, and friends who are smarter than me and share their knowledge and life's wisdom.
2.  I'm thankful for food and drink:  peanutbutter M&Ms, Burger King's cookie dough pie, Mozzi's pizza, stir-fried rice, and catfish strips at Montana Mike's.  Diet Sunkist, vanilla milk shakes, apples, spicettes and chocolate chip cookies.
3.  I'm thankful for entertainment:  for "Glee" and YouTube and Facebook and the Onion, musical theatre, the song-writing contest, Harry Potter, and hilarious TV commercials.
4.  I'm thankful for technology:  for Comcast on Demand and Hulu, CGI, social networking, my computer, e-mail, voice mail and text messages on my iPhone.
5.  I'm thankful for comfort:  cowboy slippers, my leggings, my wraps, and my sweatshirt collection, heat in my car, my couch, the warm little rat dog who isn't happy unless she's cuddled up next to me, and fires in the fireplace, and for my snuggly husband.
6.  I'm thankful for the people in my life:  for the ones who give hugs; the ones who  make me laugh and the ones who laugh with me; the ones who talk to me, the ones who listen, and the ones with whom I can be silent; the ones who love me and the ones I love in return.

I'm thankful for it all.  Does it get any better than this?  Well...does it?

Diagnosis

This is not my writing....but I heard it on this morning's "Writer's Almanac" and LOVED it...
 
Diagnosis

by Sharon Olds

By the time I was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me. I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood. My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long. My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face—
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She's doing it now! Look!
She's doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor. Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.

Zombie Dream

Last night, I dreamed I was being chased by zombies.  The early part of the dream involved lots of running, chasing, barricading myself in rooms with rickety doors (by wedging a chair under the doorknob), and approaching people I knew only to realize that they were zombies.  You could tell if they were zombies because they would stare at you without blinking and then when they opened their mouths, you could see their grey and rotted teeth.

Eventually, fate caught up with me and I was bitten on the arm by Brock Rittenhouse, an old high school friend [that I haven't seen in 30 years].  I turned to my companions and began repeating over and over again, “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!”

We all sat down to wait for the change—of me, into a zombie.  We did various things—read, cleaned….I was sewing.  Then suddenly, a fogginess enveloped me and I went limp.  I shouted to those around me, “Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye!”

Now I’m sure those of you who are reading this are sure that it’s an allegory for what’s happening in my life right now.  I would be inclined to agree with that, too, but this dream has a punchline.  Read on….

After the fogginess passed, I went back to sewing, the only thing having changed was that I was now officially a zombie.  I sat and sewed…and sewed and sewed and sewed.  And then I said, “Wow.  My attention span is a lot longer now that I’m a zombie.”   

End of dream.  I woke up.