Bye, Bye, Birdie

Anna was cast as a boy-crazy teenaged girl. Ahem. As a member of the "Conrad Chorus" she screamed and bounced and sang and swayed and followed Conrad everywhere singing, "We love you, Conrad. Oh yes we do!"

She sang and swayed her little heart out.


Anna in her "Super Strike" tshirt after the show so she can help dismantle the theater.

Bringing Down the House

Last night my daughter performed as part of "Bye, Bye, Birdie." I don't have a picture of her in her costume. She immediately changed into jeans and t-shirt after the show so she could help with the strike.

For those of you who don't do theater, a "strike" is when actors and tech people take down the set after the play or musical is over. There's usually a party after the set is struck.

Last night it was not a "strike" it was a "super strike." The actors and their parents and their teachers tore apart the whole theater and the whole backstage area and the prop room and the costume department. Everything. Costumes, lights, sound equipment, sets, props, EVERYTHING was packed up, given away, sold, or thrown away.

Including the seats. All of them. House and balcony.

We started at 11pm. We finished at 6am. I marked the two sets of seats that I wanted. I got two ends - seats 1 and 2, ironically from different rows. Just like my kids, they are the same but different.

H for "Hannah."

Blank for "A" for Anna. (Did you know that the first row does not have a letter?)

I've watched both my girls - my A and my H - perform in this theater and for that reason, these seats are really important to me.

It was a lot of work. Physical labor. I came home sweaty and dusty. It's also emotional. 100 years of memories in this theater.

A Joke

So a teen girl in a poodle skirt, bobby socks and a monogrammed shirt walks into the Emergency Room...

Ok, so getting a bloody nose in the middle of dress rehearsal for "Bye, Bye Birdie" is no joke. And neither is a 45 minute bloody nose that won't end and results in a call to your mom and a trip to the ER, but it seemed awfully funny to Anna as she flounced in with her giant skirt and crinoline, all while clutching bloody towels to her face. Of course everyone at the hospital commented on her outfit, and of course it resulted in peels of giggles from the patient.

She's fine. Soaking in the tub and wondering what everyone at school is going to be saying tomorrow, but fine.

Irish Eyes

Technically this is a picture of our Irish hair.

I don't see the kids. I don't notice that Mary is so tall that her head is above my shoulder. Or that her hair waves just exactly like mine. Until I look at a picture like this and it smacks me in the head.

She agreed to be my partner at the Irish folk dance. We dragged Frank with us, and he agreed to be the photographer. That's why we have a picture of our backs. If I had thought to pose the shot it would be the two of us facing the camera and we would smile and maybe our smiles would look the same, but there is something about this back view that captures similarities that I don't usually see.

Frank the Photographer has the Irish Eyes in this picture.

Errors on the Record

Part of it is that the town does not look like it is in Nebraska. It's more like a little mountain town in Colorado. Not the nice ones like Breckenridge, but the smaller, grittier ones on the way up the mountains. The roads pitch up and down and end in dead ends that are steep climbs or drop offs. The main street has a few bars and a cafe and a hardware store that looks like it once bartered with trappers. It's hard to believe that Omaha is just a short drive away.

The other part is that I do not have reasons to go there regularly, but I do there occasionally, and every time I do, I think of my first client and his two little kids and the trips South from Omaha in the van with my teacher Kate and my clinic partner Craig.

We lost the case. Over and over and over again. The clinic tried everything from every angle, but he did not get his kids back. The result is that they were raised by people he did not know in a little town that doesn't look like it is in Nebraska.

The case went on for years in multiple appeals and every year he got a new set of law student lawyers to represent him in his appeals. As proof that the Universe has a sense of humor, my high school boyfriend, who went to law school a few years after me, got assigned the case the year it went to the Nebraska Supreme Court. He reviewed the file, saw my name, and then emailed me to tell me about oral arguments. I went to watch.

There was a swarm of law students at oral arguments standing outside the Supreme Court. I didn't know any of the other students there, but standing to the side I saw him. I saw the father. My client. All these students here for the case and it had become something more than a case about a dad and his kids. This case affected a person they didn't recognize and some kids they never met.

He smiled at me. I walked over and greeted him by name and we talked about his current life - his fiance and their baby. He had very emotional eyes - huge and brown and communicative. I picture his little kids with those same eyes. I picture them that way still today.

Yesterday I was in that town again. I drove past the school where they went to school. I did the math that I do every time that I am in that town. They'll be in school by now. They'll be in 3rd and 4th grade by now. They'll be in junior high by now. They're in high school now. They're old enough to know who their father is now. And I wonder if they have found him.

My son and I went to Mom's Cafe. Frank had his first chicken fried steak. "Amazing!" he declared. I watched my son eat - my son the same age as my client's son at the time I represented him - and I felt overwhelmed.

That case changed my life. It reminds me to treasure my time with my children. It reminds me that I am fortunate to know them and parent them. It reminds me that even "bad people" can love their kids. It reminds me that lawyers sometimes lose track of what the case is about - it should be about people. It should be about the feeling of love for children that comes from deep inside a parent's eyes. It is about losing a case and affecting people for the rest of their lives. It is about winning a case and affecting people for the rest of their lives. It's about funny towns with little cafes that make really good chicken fried steak.

Destination Imagination!

Mary's DI team placed first in Districts and now they're going to State. They built a balsa wood structure that held one hundred twenty nine pounds before smashing rather spectacularly during the skit.

"We have a lot of construction in New York City," the saxaphone playing hobo explained to the Navajo Indians who were transported to New York via a Navajo Blanket Time Machine.

I think my favorite thing about this activity is seeing the kids work as a team and figure out their strengths (and weaknesses). I've watched them become friends this year and watched them learn from themselves and from others. They built more than a balsa wood structure.

Red Rhinos

In March 2003 I took a road trip with my kids. We meandered South and went to Archer, Texas (home of The Last Picture Show) on our way to Lubbock. (It's not really on the way, but it's close enough.) I've been thinking about that trip.

I brought lots of black and white film with me for my trip. After I got here I realized that only color film should be allowed in West Texas in the Spring. Spring is the only season that Texas is traditionally beautiful. The colors are so intense they look unreal. At one point, as I was driving between Archer City and Lubbock, I gasped at the enormity of the sky. We were surrounded by bright green on the ground. I could see for miles. The grass seemed to just end miles away as it touched the sky. The sky was a brilliant blue half circle. I felt like if I could just reach high enough I could touch the top of the sky. It was as if I was trapped inside a snow globe, but instead of a winter scene it was spring. Nothing but green grass, blue sky, a few cows, and my little car on a little highway.

It is disconcerting to travel and recognize the sameness. There are McDonalds everywhere. The cars look the same. People dress the same. But I think that Interstates and cities are deceptive. I got gas in Wichita Falls TX and I realized that I was the only person driving a car. You stop noticing the people in boots, because everyone is in boots. And when you get your biscuit at McDonalds, at least you are told, "Have a nice day," with an accent.

We traveled through Wichita, Kansas and then through Oklahoma City and Lawton Oklahoma. There are rolling hills and shockingly red earth. My daughter studied the Black Rhinoceros at the Oklahoma City Zoo and finally asked me, "Why is it called a Black Rhinoceros if it is Red?" Looking at him, I realized that he had gotten wet and then rolled in the red dirt of Oklahoma.

Things are not always what they seem.

I am feeling the need to get out of town with my kids - hit the open road and find a red rhinoceros. I need to discover a snow globe of Spring.

Migration

I am exhausted this evening. Parent Teacher Conferences. An email from a Spanish teacher. Lost (new) gloves. Ungrateful, bratty kids who sidle off and pretend that they don't hear me when I ask for help. Picking up three different kids at three different locations after work and making home finally at 6pm only to start in on a sink full of dishes and a pork tenderloin and vegetables.

At least they ate dinner without a smirk.

I tried our usual quick trip to the YMCA with hoops and ball glove and it was a disaster. Shrieks and backing each other into a corner and arguing with me about the seating in the car.

We made it home and I sent them to bed.

"Stay away! You're stupid!" called one.

I lay on the bed in exhaustion and just wondered how it is that I continue at this Mothering Thing. Really.

"Mom? Are you ok? What's wrong?" asked the same child who told me minutes ago to stay away from her and that I was stupid.

I sighed. I helped her find the book she wanted. I sent her to bed. Again.

Bill, who stayed home from the Y to wash dishes and clean up dinner, was also done for the night. He actually went to sleep.

My duties are not done. Children are awake reading in bed. I will turn lights out soon.

I am already dreading the alarm. Not because I have to get up, but because I have to get them up. It starts all over again in the morning as I pull them from bed, cajole them to get dressed, brush their teeth, eat some breakfast, get their shoes on and go to "stupid school."

Sometimes I think that the real problem is that the kids have an Existentialist for a mother. Why does any of it matter really? Depending on my level of exhaustion I will level with them. "I don't know why. I agree. It's stupid. Do it anyway." Not the best way to motivate children.

I heard geese a few nights ago. They are heading North.

I am driven by a similar sense of duty - I just keep doing this parenting thing because I have to. It's the pull of gravity. I do not know why it is important to study and treat adults with respect and get exercise. I mean, I can answer it on a small scale, but on the big scale I really don't know.

Some sunlight would be nice. Some nice weather and daylight to send the children out into the yard so that while I am washing dishes at the end of my work day at least I do not need to have them bickering and nagging me. The geese promise me warm sun. It's why they make me smile.

I am not a smiley mother tonight. I don't feel like a nice mother tonight. Tonight is about duty and gravity. I will get through this. I have to. Sometimes there is no great reason. It just is.