First Day of First Grade

My boy has begun his first day of First Grade (as the title denotes). I had planned to dress him snappily in a button up shirt and khaki pants, but this past week he seemed to find the approaching inevitable stressful. So while at Wal-Mart, I bought him two special shirts. He chose to wear one to begin the venture. He picked, as you can see, the Ghostbusters shirt sporting the glow-in-the-dark phrase: "I've been slimed." He loves it!

For anyone who has not yet heard the story, Lemur was at the Chiropractor with me. The Chiro handed him a silver instrument to play with while working on Rivulet. Lemur wandered away, deep in thought. Moments later he proclaimed, "You have ectoplasmic residue in this corner!'
Doc: "I have what?"
Lemur: *gesturing to the instrument*"My PKE meter is showing you have ghost activity."
The Doc then turned questioning eyes to me, "Did he just say 'ectoplasmic residue'?"
Me: "That's my boy."




Rivulet hasn't been all that excited for the first day, either. This morning she was rolling around on the ground proclaiming that she wanted Lemur to stay home with us all day. To address this, I asked Lemur what he wanted to be when he grew up. He replied, "Scientist. The ONLY scientist in the world!"
So I explained to my distressed princess that I knew nothing about science (to which truth Muad'Dib will attest!), so he needs to go to school and learn all he can. She seemed okay with that.


So, Muad'Dib, Rivulet, Lemur and I walked to the brand new School, and - after being walloped in the face by that "new school smell," we led Lemur to his class. He promptly sat down at his desk, made friends with the kid next to him and pulled a face saying, "Take a picture." After the picture was taken? "You can go now, mom." But as I got to the door I heard his little voice, "Mom?"
"Yes dear?"
"Just don't forget to pick me up, okay?"
"Okay."

So . . . one kid in school for upwards of four hours a day (depending on if it's a full day or half day - which this school seems fond of changing on a dime!). Another three years old and missing her brother home all the day.

I have a feeling there will be much cleaning, sewing and tea parties on the horizon for the two of us. Possibly even some doll playing or mommy-daughter dates to libraries and Grandma's house.

I will also be working part-ish time for my father again.

2009-2010 has begun for this family. And what a beautiful day to call the first! Did you SEE the clouds on Ben Lomond this morning???!! It was like Heavenly Father was saying, "I know this is hard. Here, enjoy the weather as you walk home all alone, leaving your son in someone else's care . . ." It helped a bit. And I offer Him thanks.

My Theatrical Cleanse is done. Time to assess the damage:

Much Ado About Nothing: Beatrice.

I learned that sometimes my strength, leadership skills and fly-by-the-seat-of-my-intuition decision making is very helpful.

I also learned that other times, being a good actress (aka shutting up) is more helpful.

I learned that I can address a theatrical crisis with grace and confidence that calms those around me.
I learned over two hundred lines. Sometimes it pays to watch the Kenneth Branagh version over and over and over between the ages of fourteen and seventeen.

Turns out that I will endure quite a bit of pain to get a specific look for a role. Case in point: check out those curls. Those are mine. And they were accomplished by wearing my hair in sponge curlers for eight to ten hours a day, resulting in pains when I would move my face, a headache and beautiful curls that would go from tight to soft and feminine in the course of a show.

I learned that my optimism is contagious.

I learned when to keep my opinions to myself. Love goes further.

I learned that I CAN shut up when working with my mom.

I learned to trust my mom as a director.

I learned not to fight my mom's battles, or even to secretly want to. It's one thing to theoretically understand my mom, it's another to gain an active testimony of her ability in that light.

I learned that I really CAN let go of things that are not my responsibility. It takes a lot of work, but less work than getting involved and then being bent out of shape that my help doesn't actually help.

I learned that cast members can be absolute beasts backstage toward the director. And they must not be thinking much, either - just spouting off whatever whiny filth enters their mind because quite a bit of it was said to or in front of me. "Hello! I'm her daughter for crying out loud! You think I'm not going to set you straight?" Maybe they really thought they were right. Thanks to Wildman and Dreampacker and Trailblazer for teaching me how to redirect perception without causing hurt feelings. Boy did that come in handy. I was a master at the art of situation diffusion without actually defending anyone or putting anyone on the defense.

I learned that my instincts are good.
I also learned that my mother's direction is like holding up a magnifying glass to whatever talent I brought to the table. The Beatrice I performed was 100 time better and more varied than the one I had intended to play.

I was able to take the fear that used to breed my anger - the fear of being powerless - and translate it into a Beatrice worth playing and worth watching. I understood her as a woman who was powerless whenever it counted. On one hand, it's sad I didn't completely grasp that until closing night, but on the other, how glorious that I had the epiphany just in time to give a performance that will live in my head as perfection. I still cry thinking about it. And I heard - not just saw but HEARD people in the audience crying with me. That's quite the thing.

I really learned grace. But more on that later.

We opened and closed Much Ado. I was Beatrice, and then I wasn't. I didn't have long to mourn the passing however, because on Monday we started in on six hour rehearsals for Into the Woods.



Into the Woods: The Witch.

I learned that I knew nothing about stage makeup beyond being pretty. I was so grateful to Jessica for teaching me!

I learned that although I had very difficult time letting go, I could, in fact, let go when the time came. Explanation: When we began rehearsal, the lady my mom asked to be musical director was about to go on tour with the Tab Choir. So she didn't come. For over four weeks. I knew the music very well, so I offered to help. Suddenly it was a really good thing I had listened to Into the Woods religiously for nearly a year - though had never watched the movie - and could play the piano just well enough.

I was the Musical Director for all intents and purposes for the majority of rehearsal. When the lady stepped back in, I gave her a good talking to about underestimating the music and then, after three days of not getting along I realized that what I needed to do was step back and let her do what she was going to do, right or wrong. It was no longer my place. I did. And it all worked out. I was amazed at my ability to do the job and more impressed at my ability NOT to do it.

I learned that my belief in others sometimes has power to lift them. What?! It's no wonder people fear themselves. We are powerful beings.

I learned that I can still get nervous.

I learned that if I'm really riled up, it's okay to sit in a corner and not talk to anyone until I have myself under control again. This is big, because I used to think that I had to talk things out. That's a load of crap. I so don't have to talk things out. I can contain my hurt, anger, outrage or spite, let my brain go off on a few imaginary conversations, then take a couple dozen deep breaths, redirect my focus and move on. Yeah. I can!

I learned that not everyone is aware of others. It makes me not like Bridezilla's very much.

I realized that I am not the only person who undervalued my mom theatrically. So many of my cast mates believed that unless they told (read "yelled at") my mother regarding a piece of set or costume or character choice, it would go unnoticed and unfixed. Please refer to above when I mentioned that I learned to trust my mother in the first play. Even when things weren't working out, I would do what she told me and wait for her to see that it wasn't working. Because I trusted that she was smart enough to see it. Sometimes it turned out that I was wrong. many times it turned out that the cast members were wrong and mom got to use her "I told you it would work" face. I liked those moments very much.

I learned how to communicate with my mother when we were both under stress that had nothing to do with each other personally. Humor. Humor is such a better tool than whatever the hell we have been using for twenty years!

I learned that Heavenly Father truly loves his performers. Holy Spiritual Blessings! Our opening night was a testimony to that. About an hour before we opened, we were all angry, some crying, most frustrated, and every single one of us scared to death. There were even personal hurt feelings running around. So I asked if I could offer a prayer. Heavenly Father was completely there, completely invested in what we were going through. It helped me see the situation in a new light. He helped me see what I could do, instead of focusing on where I was powerless.

Wow. I learned what truly powerless felt like. And honestly, I held on to that feeling for a while, memorizing the terror of it. I was thinking to myself, "This is powerless. All those other times I felt powerless I was just being a sissy." I wanted to be able to recall the real thing the next time the fear of powerlessness sets in. Then I can say, like John Smith in Pocahontas, "I've been in worse scrapes than this!"

I was reminded that I am beautiful. Physically.

I remembered how much I loved being on stage.

I remembered the sound of an audience loving what I did. I also got to hear and feel an audience who didn't like me all that much. I've missed that unspoken relationship.

I learned that my children like watching me on stage. They didn't like me as the Witch, but both liked me as Beatrice.

I watched Muad'Dib be so . . . incredibly loving. On closing night, someone asked me if he was coming. I said no. They asked if he had gotten me flowers. I answered no. They expressed outrage that he not support me. I laughed and laughed and laughed. No one has any idea what sort of toll this took on him. I don't even. Because he never complained. Three months of not really having me around, of being main parent to our children and still: I never heard him complain. He just let me. He just supported me. He just loved me. Who needs flowers when I have that?

So. This is all said. It is all done. And in the place where I sit now - on the other side of the storm that has been my summer - I have learned so much. I have learned more even than I can write in this one post. Like about Grace. That lesson will have to have a whole post to itself.

I just have to say thanks to everyone who supported me. When I said a few months ago that I needed this, I didn't realize just how much. It was like the final after years of study. I passed. I feel so grateful to my family, my babysitters and my cast. This is starting to sound the acceptance speech at the Oscars. Well, maybe someday. For now, I am packing away TheaterGeek - well used and well worn - and happily return to Sayyadina.

Opening Night

Tonight: Opening Night.

We will run with this play every night but Sunday at 7:30pm. Come see it. We are good. And I have learned so much. And in spite of the crap: I am happy and more emotionally fit for having embarked on this journey. Enjoy the fruits of our labor!

Much Ado About Nothing Teaser #1

"Lady, as you are mine: I am yours!" But all that changes . . .

"No, Leonato! I never tempted her with word too large. But as a brother to his sister showed bashfull sincerity and comely love!"
"And seemed I ever otherwise to you?!"


What terrible event turned these two lovers against each other?!
COME SEE THE PLAY AND FIND OUT!!

We open this Friday (July 10), and run until next Friday ( July 17th). Tickets are $8.00 for adults and $5.00 for kids and seniors. TELL YOUR FRIENDS!!

I'll have more pictures tonight to put up tomorrow.

Fourth RunDown

This year for the Fourth of July, we played it cool.

N.O. Parade at 10am. Loads of candy, a little crying and alot of people cheering for Lemur's rockin' dance moves.

Cherry Days complete with cotton candy, an oversized pretzle, a ride on the big slide, a cork-pop gun, and Rivulet napping in the shade.

Home for a nap while the kids played with Muad'Dib. Lemur and Muad'Dib actually have taken up the card game Magic. Lemur has beat Muad'Dib three out of five times! He loves to play! They both do. It's cute. And weird. Mostly cute.

Dinner of grilled hot dogs washed down with some raspberry lemonade (I know, "Can we BE more American?!"

Then we ate popsicles outside and I pushed my kids on the swingset in our back yard. They got restless so we went for a walk in the now quiet neighborhood. It was nice.

Finally, fireworks. We went late and decided just to sit on the front lawn of Weber High School. We could only barely hear the music. So when Lemur declared, "What is that sound? It's freaking me out!" Muad'Dib had to listen closly before he replied, "It freaks me out, too son. It's called Country Music."

Then as I was watching the fireworks, I thought about how the closer you are to something, more room it takes up in your life. Like, fireworks, when you are directly under them, are bright, loud, perfectly round and synchronized with Patriotic music. But from far away, they are like firefly butts flying low to the ground. No sound, no wonder, not pushing and clawing to be the ONLY thing you are thinking about. Still: to someone, those fireworks are all they see, all they CAN see. It's like life. This analogy is still rattling around in my brain.

This year was low key. We didn't invite people over, we didn't really go anywhere we couldn't walk to . . . we didn't even take pictures. This day was ours. I loved it. I love having the freedom to celebrate freedom any way I want.

I hope you all enjoyed that freedom as well! Happy Fourth of July!!

"You are the one for me!"

So: I put on my cutest outfit this morning, turn to Muad'Dib who is combing his hair in the bathroom and I ask, "How does this look?"
He answers by singing, "Manatee, Manatee!" to which I reply - through laughter - "That doesn't help!!!" In moments we are both in a fit of laughter. If you don't know why this was so funny then either


A. You don't know Muad'Dib very well and could actually believe he would make such a derogatory comment to me,

B. You weren't there the time we were swimming with Shematite, Scout,Michex and Mayflower. They were each pretending to either be barnacles, dolphins or mermaids and I added, "And I'll be a manatee!" to which Muad'Dib commented, "You wanna be a sea cow?!"or,


C. You have never seen this: Barbara Manatee (Please click the link. It is well worth it. Then read the story again, and you'll see why it's funny!) It seems the tune was stuck in his head even before I asked the question.

I sure love my husband!

Much Ado About Nothing . . . now that's SOMEthing!!

WOW.

Three nights ago, the guy playing Lysander in our production of A Midsummer Night's Dream walked out in the middle of rehearsal, with no intention of coming back.

Wednesday night, after a day of calling everyone age and talent appropriate we could think of to take over the part, the rest of the cast began to arrive for rehearsal.

Mom and I had discussed our options. We had been down a list of possibilities to replace the actor . . . none of them panned out. We went down a list of possible changes in the actual play . . . but had no firm decision made. Wednesday was set to be a "Makeup and Hair" night. Three out of twenty-two people came prepared to do that.

And then, to top it off, the costumers came in with fully made butterfly wings for the fairies to wear.

Mom broke. Before my very eyes, she crumbled in a state of anger, frustration, hurt, fear and worry. She took me by the hand and led me into an adjoining room where she cried, she swore. She downright panicked. And seeing her in that state, I was speechless until she said, "I should have quit years ago! What am I even doing?!"


Something clicked inside my head. I put my hands on her shoulders and said, "Not even. Everything is going to be great. I have a plan." And quite suddenly it was true. The plan was solid and fluid like chain mail.
"Let's do Much Ado. We can cast it. It's simple to costume, simple to stage, easily memorised and understood."
Her eyes remained vacant and broken, even as they spilled over with tears. "I just don't have the heart," she answered. "I can't go in there and tell them . . ." She trailed off with a look of dread and horror, playing the possibly scene out in her mind.
Now I was wearing the chain mail. A feeling not far from adrenaline kicked in. "Then let me do it. I'll take the helm. I'll take the crap or whatever comes." The feeling must have rolled off me and at least pushed against her void of reason.
She looked up to meet my eyes and nodded, "Okay?" She sounded unsure but trusting.
"You wanna come with me?"
She nodded again; so I took her by the hand and we went back to face the cast.

I told them the basic story, leaving out hurt feelings or gory details. I was all business; formality of the Now void of emotion. Silence was complete in the room.

I expressed the true problem: we could not find a new Lysander and have him learn such a difficult and physical part in the amount of rehearsal time left to us. Midsummer was not even fully blocked; and without a Lysander we could not finish blocking, let alone teach it to someone when they did step in. Our two options were cancel the show, or change it to Much Ado About Nothing.
Much Ado is a simpler Shakespeare for many reasons, I explained. Simpler costumes, almost no set, no wigs needed, no special makeup. The lines are conversational and easily understood. We would need to fill two parts, but they were both small and could be filled even the week before we opened with no great stress on the cast as a whole. I let them know that Mom has directed Much Ado twice, and I have directed it once before in High School. They were in confident and safe hands; we were in no way entering this play blind or ignorant.
Then I said, "If anyone is not on board, now is the time to make it known. I completely understand the emotional connection we all have to Midsummer. We are all invested. That is why I believe changing the show is a better option than canceling altogether. But if there are any dissenters, speak now to our face. I will brook no backbiting later. I want it clear that we aren't forcing anyone into this action." (And I'll admit, I really enjoyed being able to use the word "brook" in every day conversation. Though I paid only small attention to it at the time.)

If I had thought the room was silent before, it was nothing compared to this. Each member of the cast looked like I had punched them first in the head and then in the gut: muddled and wounded.

Finally the man who would have played Peter Quince, and who has been in just about every Shakespeare my mother has directed over the past ten years said, "I have walked out on you once, Carrie. I won't do it again."
A soft and emotional moment passed between him and my mother.
He continued, "I'm on board." And as I met the individual gaze of each person around the room, I heard and saw that they too were with us, come what may.

We discussed only a few more minute items, some people expressing quiet outrage at the selfish and irresponsible behavior of the departed actor. But from the moment the cast was with us, Mom began crying in relief and went into the adjoining room again. And I flew into a flurry, taking charge even to the point of announcing the cast right there.

Thursday, when everyone came to rehearsal I believe they were a little surprised. We set immediatley to work. We had it cast, we had scripts and rehearsal schedules ready and by 10pm we had Act 1 Scene 1 completely blocked.

The way the schedule is set up, we will often be blocking two scenes at once: Mom in charge of one, and I in charge of another. We will block for two weeks, run through the show for one week and then open July 10th.

Some people had their hearts completely broken, having had in Midsummer their dream role, and being "reduced" to a minor role in Much Ado. Others of us were taken from a compact role and expanded into something monumentally larger and in some cases creatively scarier. My mothers tears were not the only tears shed over this development.
The majority of the planned and built costumes will have to be revamped for the difference in era, need and casting.
When I say that the members of our cast and crew are being "troopers," it is a gross understatement . . . but how else can I say it?

Long story short: I will now be playing Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. Muad'Dib is not involved at all; no longer performing in this endeavor, not even for a night (because he was the understudy of the departed actor). He is instead being the best husband and father in the world EVER. Supportive and loving. I leave my junk at the door and he doesn't ask me "How was rehearsal?" When we are together, we ARE, without all the other stuff. It's what is working for us and I like it. The kids, also are doing incredibly well!

And now comes the big thing. (I know, "That wasn't the big thing?") The big thing is that these current happenings have opened my perspective in a most wonderful way.

A month or so ago, I was aching. Three months before that, I was downright suffering through a cleanse and detox so emotionally vigorous that I was little more than a tree waiting out a storm: still and mindless. I knew it would go away. And it felt like it would never go away.
One of those days, early on, I had written out my feelings while sitting in church. And the Spirit spoke to me saying, "Consider this a time to rest. Take it in. Rest. Be." I learned during that hellish experience that it was possible for me to simply turn off some emotions, for a time. I didn't have to tap it out or validate them or sift through them and understand them. If the need was great enough I could just switch it off, function, and come back to it later.

And boy did that come in handy the past few days. When so many others around me were still just reacting, I had a plan. I used my adrenaline as a tool and set to work, completely armored by my plan, armed with my tool and my mind clear and open as a cloudless sky!

And then, after rehearsal last night, after I had driven home, after I had brought my bags inside and set them down. After I had kicked off my shoes and gone to find my hunny, I ran my fingers through his hair . . . then my body said, "Crisis mode ended. Return to normal function."

I was suddenly so tired. So last night I slept. And this morning, I opted to share this incredible experience, and startling turn of events with my bloggy friends.

I hope that despite the change of play, and Muad'Dib no longer being in it even for a night, you will all still come and see Much Ado About Nothing. Because when we open, after only three weeks of rehearsal, you will enjoy the feeling of your jaws dropping in surprise. Because in spite of all the above hullabaloo, we are going to ROCK!!!