Hamlet Performed

Boy, was the 4th grade play impressive! And what a difference between the Dress Rehearsal and the live performance today. You could hear the children, most of the lines (and actors) were clear, and there was a fair amount of expression. I was very surprised. I guess they felt silly putting feeling in their words with no audience on Wednesday. Today was totally different.

The children only had one practice with microphones (the Dress Rehearsal) but were able to handle them quite well. They placed them down on a pad in the middle of the stage at the end of each scene and I don't think they ever forgot and carried them off. They shared them and almost without fail remembered to pass them off to the next speaker.

The play lasted a full hour, but it was so well-performed that the time flew by. There were some mistakes, but so few (especially considering they are only in the 4th grade) that no one cared. A few lines were forgotten but, again, very few and the kids recovered well. All-in-all, it was very impressive.

Dane did great! And Hamlet was a real star. It was exciting hearing such famous lines being performed by such young children. "Neither a borrower nor a lender be"; "I will speak daggers to her, but use none"; "Brevity is the soul of wit"; "This above all: to thine own self be true" - such incredible words. I'm once-again reminded of my love for Shakespeare and his turn of a phrase.

I hope these young boys and girls understand some of the words they spoke and that this play gives them a real love for great literature. I was about their age when my love affair with The Bard began to develop.

It was quite a morning, for all of us. The entire school attended the production and I'm sure it will be quite the topic of conversation for the next week or so.

The only thing that could have made it better would have been an invitation to the Cast Party!

Two Kinds of Aliens

When Dane was a newborn, he had a very unusual look about him. His eyes were almond-shaped and jet black. He had no eyebrows or eyelashes, was bald, and the shape of his head looked amazingly like the outline of the alien on the X-Files. When he'd open those black almond-shaped eyes, it was a little scary. For years, I've kidded him about looking like an alien.

About two years ago, he told me that the whole "alien" joke hurt his feelings. Since I REALLY do not want to hurt my son (nor ensure some psychiatrist will get rich off him in the future), I've refrained from any hurtful remarks since. He became quite a beautiful child by the time he was a year old and rivaled Deanna for compliments from strangers.

Anyway, Deanna made some comment the other day, referring to Dane as "the alien".

Me: "Sissy, it hurts Dane's feelings when you call him an alien. Please don't do it anymore."

Deanna: "Okay, then. The 'foreigner' - like, from a foreign planet."

Hamlet and The King

The 4th Grade at my children's school always performs a Shakespearean play. This year, it's "Hamlet". Dane has one of the leading parts - the King/Hamlet's uncle and father's murderer. The performance is scheduled for 10 a.m. Friday.

Dane is pretty sick but he drug himself out of bed today and down to the Gym for the Dress Rehearsal. He had his lines well-memorized, even though he has the most lines in the play. He wasn't perfect, but did amazingly well.

The funniest part was that I've worked really hard with him on dynamics. I've explained each line and what it means and helped him with hand motions and voice inflection to make his parts more expressive and meaningful. It's kind of funny, in comparison to the other children who deliver each and every line in a monotone. (The little girl that plays the Queen gave a fabulous performance on her final line - the scene where she's dying!) The Director and Producer of the play is the retired 4th grade teacher who left at the end of last year. She also happens to be the person with whose family I lived during college and she knows me VERY well. At one particularly expressive line, she cracked up and turned around from her "Director's chair", where she sat with a copy of the Script giving prompts, and gave me "that look"!

The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree. And she's watched the tree from the time it was a thin, green sapling. She recognizes the apple and can clearly identify the tree from which it fell.

Anyway, the play ought to be wonderful, if the Dress Rehearsal was any indication. I'm looking forward to the full production. But I'm especially looking forward to the King of Denmark's death scene. He ought to steal the show if the Queen doesn't beat him to it.

A Sure Way . . .

. . . to make sure you'll never have to wash the family's clothes.

Me: "It's about time for you to begin learning how to do laundry."

Child: "I couldn't do the laundry. I have no idea how many cups of deodorant to put in each load."

Just a Little More Craziness

I mentioned several weeks ago that I'm reconnecting with a couple of old friends - one that I hadn't seen since graduating from High School in 1979, another that I hadn't seen since our family left Belgium (my father was in the Army and was transferred to the military base in Augusta from Belgium) when I was in the 6th grade. The High School friend still lives in the area and we've spoken on the phone several times and had lunch with another high school friend (who's still a close friend of mine) twice.

I connect with my friend from Belgium through Facebook. Her name is Andrea. Anyway, a few weeks ago, my niece tagged me with a meme called, "25 Things". You had to list 25 random facts about yourself, then tag 25 other people, one of them being the person who tagged you. I did my 25 things and I think I posted them here, as well. Anyway, Andrea was one of the people I tagged and she finally got around to doing her 25 things. Several of them were hilarious, as is Andrea. For instance, "I grew up overseas as an American, although I had never lived in America. I came to America as a Belgium, although I only lived there. I went to college in Ohio as a resident, although I had never lived in Ohio." Another of hers that I love: "Maturity is overrated. Show me someone that comes to mind when the word 'mature' is mentioned . . . do you really want to be like that???!!"

But by far my favorite was: "When the days got boring, I used to make my kids talk to me in opera . . ."

The other day at breakfast, I announced Dane as King of Denmark - the part he's playing in Hamlet. I was quite Regal and could easily have been confused as a Courtier. I even played the trumpet using my hands and holding my lips j-j-just right. The kids stopped eating and all stared at me.

Deanna: "Mama, you're so crazy!"

Me: "Crazy was exactly what I was going for. But what about fun? Should we add that, too?"

They all laughed. Then I continued.

"You want to hear 'crazy'? You should hear what my friend, Andrea, wrote on her Facebook. And I began to quote the Opera thing. Again, the children stared at me.

Deanna: "What does that mean, Mama - 'talk in Opera'?"

Me: "It means that if you want another piece of French Toast, you sing it to me in Opera style." I demonstrated.

Before I knew it, Daelyn was standing up on the bench of the kitchen table, belting out opera sounds to normal communication. He asked about his lunch in opera, then commented on his homework. Then Dane began a tune from "Phantom of the Opera", requesting the peanut butter. Before long, Deanna had joined in and my three little Opera Stars were singing their way through the morning.

And they think I'M crazy?

Can't We Just Read Aloud Without Commentary?

A Bigger House for June

"June liked to clean her small home. She cleaned so much that the glass shone. 'I like this cute home,' June said.

'But I have just one wish. I would like a bigger home.' "

Daelyn: "Apparently, June is fickle!"

The Outcome

Dane had his sinus surgery yesterday. I asked the doctor how long he had scheduled for Dane during pre-op and he said an hour, which I found a little surprising because we had talked during Dane's previous visit about how slow he was going to go. I had expected at least an hour and a half.

One hour into the surgery, one of the nurses found me and told me that they were only half done. The doctor had asked her to come out and tell me so I wouldn't worry.

Dane did fabulously. Everyone greeted him by name and joked with him. He was so relaxed that they didn't have to give him anything in pre-0p. As they rolled him out the doors and into the O.R., he was waving over his head, calling good-bye to me.

One funny story - while Don and I were sitting with him in pre-op, the nurse walked by his cubicle.

"Hey," Dane called, "when am I going to get my Verced?" The nurse explained that they probably wouldn't give him any since he was so relaxed. We told the doctor and the Anesthesiologist when they arrived. The doctor commented,

"I'm not sure I like that a 9-yr. old boy has had so many of these surgeries that he's requesting his preferred drug by name!" The Anesthesiologist agreed and we all laughed. We joked about needing a punch card for surgeries - pay for 4, get the 5th for free. I requested Frequent Flyer Miles.

Anyway, following the surgery, the ENT told me that Dane should feel hugely better almost immediately. He said that in the first surgery, they had removed about 1/3 of the cells in his ethmoids. This time, they cut a clear path and suctioned alot of fluid out of his frontals. He said that with the amount of fluid Dane had in there, his head HAD to have been hurting. He told me to ask him today if his head felt better.

Dane's response to "How are you feeling today, Son?" when I asked him first thing this morning?

"My nose hurts but my head doesn't hurt at all!" There was a sense of awe in his voice. I don't think we understood the extent of his headaches. But they seem to be gone now. What a blessing! Dane hasn't even wanted pain medication today, he's already feeling so much better.

Below are four pictures from his surgery that Dr. Harmon gave us on a CD. The one on the top right shows the tissue separating the cells in the ethmoids. Those are all now gone. The red picture on the bottom right is the opening that they made between the frontals and the ethmoids - a fairly large hole, which should facilitate easy drainage.

I feel like a load has been lifted off me and I'm very thankful he's done with the surgery and feeling so much better. I hadn't completely understood how worried I was about him going through this again until it was all over and I had this sense of euphoria.

A few more days and he'll be back at school, feeling better than he has in a long time. And that
makes all of us feel better.

A Chore for Me, As Well

Deanna told Daelyn this goofy joke about a year ago. It was about an Immigrant that was trying to learn English from watching TV. Unfortunately, he tuned into the cooking channel.

He learns just a few phrases like: forks and knives, fry them til they're crispy, etc. He happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets arrested for murder. You can imagine the rest.

Police: "How'd ya do it, Buddy?"

Immigrant: "Fork and knives, forks and knives."

The questioning continues and the Immigrant gets in bigger and bigger trouble with each learned phrase. For some reason, Daelyn thinks this joke is hilarious. Of course, you have to consider that he's only six and his verbal wit is almost slapstick.

Still, HE is the child that sets the table for dinner every night. He always asks what we're having and what he should set on the table.

"Plates, napkins, forks, knives for Daddy, me, and Sissy, and drinks."

He ALWAYS, ALWAYS responds with, "Forks and knives, forks and knives."

I am so very sick of this phrase that tonight I stopped after "plates, napkins, forks . . ." and glanced at him. He was standing across the kitchen, facing the opposite directi0n from me, and his head was turned sideways looking at me with a huge grin. He was just WAITING.

"If you say 'forks and knives'," I told him, "I'm going to BOP you."

He just couldn't resist.

"Forks and knives, forks and knives," he chanted, for at least the thousandth time.

I chased him around the table and bopped him. He laughed and told me that I had barely touched him.

Guess I should have knocked him out. Maybe then he'd think twice about "forks and knives".

I'm thinking about changing up chores - perhaps Dane would do a better job of table setting.

Quiet Times

Today was my weekly date to take my father to run his errands. I walked up, we loaded into my parent's car, and started driving. We had been together about 1/2 hour when my father said,

"What's wrong, hon?" Nothing was wrong. Really. Nothing. (Except, perhaps, my life is unbelievably stressful right now.)

I told my father there was nothing wrong, but he didn't seem to believe me. I wondered why he was so convinced and realized I was very quiet today. I just didn't really have anything to say - lots on my mind, but very little to chat about.

I was reminded of 3 weeks ago. I was about a week into a terrible sinus infection (which I'm seeing the doctor about tomorrow) and felt miserable. By the time we got home from church, I could feel myself worsening. I was cold, my head hurt, my nose was killing me, I couldn't breath, and I felt incredibly weak and tired. In an effort to create a little gap for breathing, I decided to try my sinus rinse and somehow managed to back fluid up my eustachian tubes. My left ear started aching and I just couldn't take it any longer. I needed my Mom.

I walked through the backyards, quietly went through the kitchen door and into the dining room. I noticed that they were sitting on the couch engrossed in a movie, so I silently took off my coat, hung it on the back of a chair, and walked over to sit next to my mother.

"What's wrong, honey?" they asked in unison.

As far as I can see, the only similarity between these two instances (other than feeling pretty terrible both times) was that I was quiet.

Okay. What does that say about me. I actually entered a house quietly for a change, without trumpets blaring, and both my parents thought there was something wrong. Today, I just didn't have it in me to chat idly. Dad was sure something was wrong.

I DO have quiet times throughout my day - I just don't usually choose to have them when other people are around. But some days are different and I plain don't want to talk. Today was one of those. Tomorrow may be another.

Bowl Mania

My parents got home late Saturday night from a mission trip to Guadeloupe. The kids went up Sunday afternoon to visit and Dane got caught up in all the Superbowl pre-game excitement. When I called to have the kids sent home for dinner, my father was reluctant and said Dane wanted to stay and watch the game. Sorry, Dad. Bedtime's 7:00.

After dinner, Dane informed me that he was going to spend his last few minutes of awakeness watching the game and asked if I'd come and join him and snuggle. I gladly piled up on the couch in the Den. It brought back memories of years of Superbowl parties and informal gatherings with friends. Don doesn't particularly enjoyed sports but I love to watch a good game - football, baseball, almost anything. For years when I was single, I'd watch the World Series (when the Braves were in it) and keep in touch with my siblings and parents via phone after any good plays. This was the first time I've ever sat to watch the Game with my progeny.

Just as we were preparing to sing the National Anthem, Deanna ran into the Den.

"Who's winning?" she asked. Dane and I looked at each other and started to laugh. We explained that we hadn't even yet reached the kick-off. Deanna plopped on the couch to join us. Before long, Daelyn appeared, as well. We stopped talking just in time for the kick-off.

"Mom," Dane asked just as the ball went into play and we knew the kick-off moment was done, "has it ever happened that the ball was on the 99-yard line?" I explained that there wasn't a 99-yard line, and Dane rephrased his question.

"What about the 1-yard line?"

"Sure, honey," I told him. "And you should see the players try to climb over the opposing team's line-up after the hike to get that one yard and a TD." Dane laughed. I explained further that it happens quite frequently. As if in response to my answer, literally, within seconds, the ball was on the 2-yard line, then the 1. Dane got very excited.

As the tension built, we all found ourselves whooping. When either team made an impressive play, we'd yell and holler. Don, who was working on the computer (paying bills, I think) and being quite patient with us, finally turned around and made some comment about us being loud.

"Well, what do you expect?" I asked. "This is a fabulous game."

Unfortunately, all too soon, 7 p.m. rolled around. I sent the boys into the kitchen around 7:15 to take their medicines. While they were gone, the game went to a commercial break.

"This is the best part of the game, Deanna," I told her. "They charge so much for commercials during the Superbowl that every company trots out their very best commercials. I often like them better than the game."

Again, as if in response to my comment, we began to witness people getting beaten to a pulp - one guy was hit on a course by a swinging golfer not once but twice; another guy was on a ladder replacing a light bulb when someone around the other corner of the house threw the power lever on the power box, sending the ladder guy flying through the air and crashing into a van across the street; a bowler was passing a ball over top of another guy's head who was bending down tying his shoes when the bag breaks and the ball hits him on the neck and head . . . each incident was funnier than the previous one. I can't tell you what the commercial was trying to sell, but Deanna and I shrieked with laughter. That commercial was followed immediately by another equally funny one involving unusual pets - a grandma with an osterich that chases the mailman, someone driving down the road with a wild boar in the backseat sticking his nose out the window . . . We continued to shriek and roll on the couch. Don shook his head. The boys came running in to see what they missed.

I eventually had to send the children off to bed and get my chores done during commercials. What a shame. I missed all the other good commercials.

Last night at dinner we were rehashing some of the fun from Sunday night. From there, we began kidding each other. Dane had gotten up from the table to refill his glass and remarked from the sink,

"You know, Mama, we have a lot of fun together. It's the most fun we have in our lives."

It's true. And while I love every minute of it, it also makes me feel sad for parents that don't have that with their children. Some people's lives are so busy, they never really get to have fun with their children. I know other people who are too uptight to let their children see them having fun. I'm sure there are lots of other reasons people don't enjoy time with their children like Don and me.

But I'm thankful we do. I'm thankful to have children who want to watch the Superbowl with Mom and snuggle on the couch while laughing at commercials. I love watching them smile and sharing their laughter and creating that strong family culture.

As soon as they woke up yesterday morning, they all wanted to know the outcome of the game. I stood in the hallway between the boys' room and Deanna's and told them about the last 5 minutes. At one point, I stepped into Deanna's room with Dane close on my heels, until I heard a scream from Daelyn who was still laying in bed.

"Mama, get back out here in the Hall. I can't see you there and I want to see what you're saying."

Apparently, it's not only about the humor in words. It's also about the animation. But that's another Post.

For Grandma Doughty

Tomorrow is Grandma Doughty's birthday. In honor of her, I'm posting an essay Dane wrote for school. We love you, Mom - all of us! Happy Birthday!

"I went to my grandma's house in West Virginia last Christmas. I had soo much fun I got alot of stuff for Christmas.

I also had fun when it snowed. It didn't stick, though. Well at least it iced.

I also had fun visiting with Grandma and Grandpa. We stayed up late and watch movies. They also told me some stories of their childhood.

I wish I could have stayed there!"