Nashville

For the National School Board Conference I got to go to Nashville, home of country music. Most of my time was spent in awesome lectures. I loved it learning, but I also loved walking in the beautiful weather in a city I'd never been to before. I'm not a huge fan of country music or alcohol, which seemed to be the main attractions of the town, but there were still some things about the city that made me love it and I'm not just talking about the buy one pair get two free boot sales. Yep, came home with a bunch of little boy sized cowboy boots. Here are some of the things I saw that made me smile.

I wanted to take this guy home. What happened to these works of art? Why don't we have karaoke machines that look like this?

Not all of Elvis' music speaks to me but I do love his "Fools Rush In" and I couldn't help but like these blue suede shoes.

I have a special place in my heart for Patsy Cline. When I was in Junior High I was a member of Muse Machine, a program which got us discount tickets to music and theater performances. I signed up to go to the nutcracker that year, but too many people signed up for it so instead they sent me to a play entitled, "Always, Patsy Cline". I went expecting to be bored but instead I was moved. After I got over the liberal use of the word "hell" I laughed and I cried. I loved the music. I love me some Patsy Cline.

She was also the first woman in the Hall of Fame so the feminist in me likes her even more now.

Nashville sported some pretty creative murals. This was my favorite.

These buildings are the iconic towers of the Nashville skyline. They are nicknamed R2D2 and Batman.

The art museum was closed which was sad, but at least we got to see the sculptures on the outside.

Union Station had beautiful stained glass. This is the arched ceiling.

I want these windows in my house. Stained glass is just so amazing.

I have pictures of many of favorite things, but there are some that just didn't get photographed that I'd like to mention. One evening, I went with Leslie and Amy to a brewery to listen to a marimba and vocal concert. It was so beautiful and different. One of the songs was "Blackbird" which I hadn't heard in many years. It rekindled my love of that song.
I don't have any pictures of the delicious food that we ate or of the house rootbeers that I drank but it was so good. Luckily, our hotel was a fair distance from downtown so I was able to walk off most, okay some, of the extra calories.
We went to an all female singer/songwriter event where up and coming ladies performed original music. I loved it and totally bought the t-shirt. Being there took me back to my roots as a girl born in Arkansas who would visit my relatives every summer and listen to the country music blaring on the radios in my uncle's trucks. There's something about that twang that feels like home.

Happy Birthday Relief Society

For some crazy reason I was asked to speak at the RS Birthday Celebration for our ward. I've had some sisters ask for a copy so I thought I would post it here. Warning, this post is crazy long.

Angels for Associates; Our Privilege as Women

I am excited to be here at this birthday dinner. I think I was asked to speak because my family is a birthday celebration kind of family. My friend in Cleveland once frantically called me up because it was her son's 3^rd birthday and she was a little lacking in birthday preparations. She asked if I could meet her at a park because, she explained, “inviting you is like an instant party. You come with five boys and when they start running around it looks like even more.” I'm now thinking of starting an insta-party business in which you can rent my boys and a bouncy castle for one small fee. The only catch is, you must keep them for at least two hours and there are no refunds.

This birthday is a little bit different though. We aren't celebrating the birth of one individual, but the formation of a society which encompasses millions of individual women all over the world and specifically, we are celebrating the the unique and amazing women that make up our Relief Society in the Dickinson North Dakota first ward. And ladies, let's face it, we are something to celebrate!

When the Relief Society was founded in 1842 the prophet Joseph Smith spoke to the gathered sisters. He said to those women, “if you live up to your privilege, the angels cannot be restrained from being your associates.” What an incredible promise! I don't know about you, but I could use some angelic help sometimes. The question is, how do we live up to our privilege?

First- Know Your Divine Heritage

Growing up, I always knew that I was something special. You could use that word in many ways. I was “special” in that I had alphabetized everything in my room including my box of 96 crayons. The little boxes inside the big box were carefully labeled A-Br etc. and if you wanted to use one of “special” crayons you had to pull the crayon out and quickly shove a pencil in that spot to hold its place so that nothing got out of order. It was like Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark on a daily basis. I was special because my parents named me Sarah, which is Hebrew for princess. I thought that they had named me that because I was actually a princess stolen from some obscure kingdom in infancy and left on my parents' doorstep. I wrote about it in my college entrance essay. BYU took me anyway. I guess “humility” wasn't on their list of requirements for admission. In all seriousness, I have always had a strong feeling that I was more than this mortal experience. Perhaps that is why Romans 8:16-17 has long been one of my favorite scriptures. Paul writes, “The spirit itself beareth witness to our spirit that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ.” Do you see how incredible that is? We are daughters of Heavenly Parents and we can inherit all of the light and knowledge that they possess. Just this alone- knowing where we come from should propel us to greatness, but the problem is we often don't truly believe it. Sometimes we tell ourselves that a child of deities would do or look or say something different than what we are. Sometimes we seem to believe that we must have achieved perfection or close to it to be counted as His. This brings me to my next point which is

Second- Accept Who You Are

It has been a long road for me and one that I am still traveling to figure out and accept who I am. I mean, I knew certain things about myself. For example, I am not an athlete. I do not enjoy running and I was infamous in the P.E. Department at my high school as the girl who shot arrows through the wrestling mats during archery and who somehow managed to hit a golf ball backwards into the parking lot and dented a truck. There was also the incident in which I accidentally put someone else's combination lock on my gym locker and it turned out it was a student who had moved away but left her lock behind so no one had the combination and my male gym teacher, not wanting to go into the girls locker room sent me in alone with a pair of bolt cutters. Yeah, that locker was never the same. Clearly, athletics were just not in the cards. So, I knew some things that I wasn't but I really didn't know who I was. I was a chameleon, I could hang out with anyone and generate interest in what they were interested in. I tried to do everything- I held the record in my high school class for most activities- none of those were sports. If you asked me who I was in high school the best I could have come up with is, “I am a Mormon girl who is annoyingly happy all the time.” That's a great identity to have when you are one of maybe fifteen kids in your large high school that are LDS. Then I got to BYU. Everyone was a Mormon girl. Everyone could do everything. Everyone was annoyingly happy all the time. My roommates were baking pies and putting out quilts that they had made to show off their home-making skills on the nights when the guys were allowed to come visit our dorms. I felt like I had to up my game. I even attempted playing a sport- JV Rugby. I was terrible. I changed my major several times. I dated a lot. Whatever my date was interested in, I was interested in it too. I learned a lot about Greek and Latin, particle physics, advanced math theorems, illustration and a bunch of bands that I had previously never heard of. If you asked me that first semester of college who I was I might have said, “I am a stressed-out flirt.” I felt like I was surrounded by people who were super-human just like the poem “Girl in a Whirl” by Vickie Gunsch. Many of you have probably heard this before, but it's always worth a listen.

Look at me, look at me, look at me now!
You could do what I do if you only knew how.
I study the scriptures one hour each day;
I bake, I upholster, I scrub, and I pray.
I always keep all the commandments completely;
I speak to my little ones gently and sweetly.
I help in their classrooms! I sew all they wear!
I drive them to practice! I cut all their hair!
I memorize names of the General Authorities;
I focus on things to be done by priorities.
I play the piano! I bless with my talents!
My toilets all sparkle! My checkbooks all balance!
Each week every child gets a one-on-one date;
I attend all my meetings (on time! Never late!)
I’m taking a class on the teachings of Paul,
But that is not all! Oh, no. That is not all.
I track my bad habits ’til each is abolished;
Our t-shirts are ironed! My toenails are polished!
Our family home evenings are always delightful;
The lessons I give are both fun and insightful.
I do genealogy faithfully, too.

It’s easy to do all the things that I do!
I rise each day early, refreshed and awake;
I know all the names of each youth in my stake!
I read to my children! I help all my neighbors!
I bless the community, too, with my labors.
I exercise and I cook menus gourmet;
My visiting teaching is done the first day!
(I also go do it for someone who missed hers.
It’s the least I can do for my cherished ward sisters.)
I chart resolutions and check off each goal;
I seek each “lost lamb” on my Primary roll.
I can home-grown produce each summer and fall.
But that is not all! Oh, no. That is not all.
I write in my journal! I sing in the choir!
Each day, I write “thank you’s” to those I admire.
My sons were all Eagles when they were fourteen!
My kids get straight A’s! And their bedrooms are clean!
I have a home business to help make some money;
I always look beautifully groomed for my honey.
I go to the temple at least once a week;
I change the car’s tires! I fix the sink’s leak!
I grind my own wheat and I bake all our bread;
I have all our meals planned out six months ahead.
I make sure I rotate our two-years’ supply;
My shopping for Christmas is done by July!
These things are not hard; It’s good if you do them;
You can if you try! Just set goals and pursue them!
It’s easy to do all the things that I do!
If you plan and work smart, you can do them all, too!
It’s easy!” she said ?and then she dropped dead.

God does not ask us to do everything all at once. In fact, He counsels us in Mosiah that it is not requisite for a man to run faster than he has strength, and yes that applies to women too. I was killing myself trying to be everything I thought a daughter of God should be when what I really needed was to figure out how to be the best version of me. Of course, in the second semester of my first year Marc entered the picture and threw my search for self-identity out the window for a few months while I instead searched for opportunities to be with Marc. After we were married, I was still trying to sort out my purpose, who I was. I can distinctly remember the first time something felt genuine and right. I had finally picked a major that I loved- Audiology and Speech-Language Pathology. During one class, a woman came and gave a presentation about a teacher-licensing program at BYU. The classes were at night, and after two years you would leave with a teaching license for students with special needs. I knew that's what I needed to do. I should have known it all along because I have a little sister with severe disabilities.

Rachel is fifteen months younger than me. She has no real diagnosis, the causes of her disabilities are largely unknown. She was significantly developmentally delayed from birth, but by age two she could crawl and roll, feed herself and approximate some words. But then a terrible seizure sent her into a coma and when she finally awoke she had lost everything. From that time forward she would have a feeding tube. She would eventually regain the ability to roll around and to sit up but she would never talk or crawl again. As a thirty-year-old woman she demonstrates the skills of a six-month-old but she is a spiritual giant. As a child, I learned to change diapers, to grind medications, prepare liquid food and deliver it via G-tube. I learned basic sign language, knew about braille, helped provide sensory experiences. I could dress a sometimes deliberately-unhelpful person the same size as I was. When people stared at my sister when we were out, I stared back. I was good at being her big sister. But I never counted these daily tasks as talents, never thought that my sister was part of my identity and in fact I had sworn that I would never go into a field working with special needs children because sometimes being her big sister was really hard. And yet, I did. I did take those classes at night at the same time I was finishing my degree in the day time. I did volunteer to work with students with severe disabilities and took a part-time job as an intern to a speech-pathologist working with children with Downs Syndrome. When I graduated and accepted my first job as a teacher for students with special needs in Kindergarten and first grade I cried. Marc did too, but you can't tell him I told you that. We both felt the Lord's approval because I had accepted a part of my true self. It wasn't anything grand or flashy but it meant something to the children that I worked with. I think we so often want talents that might be more noticeable or might seem more important than the talents we have been given. I love this quote from Eliza R. Snow, “There are many of the sisters whose labors are not known beyond their own dwellings and perhaps not appreciated there (we've all experienced that, right?), but what difference does that make? If your labors are acceptable to God, however simple the duties, if faithfully performed, you should never be discouraged.” Who cares if they never write a book about you which eventually gets made into a feature film starring Reese Witherspoon? Accept who you are and the talents you have been given and then, start being your best self. Just to clarify, I am not saying that we should not seek to improve our skills or make weaknesses strengths, but just to do so prayerfully and for the right reasons. I have to remind myself that if something isn't going to happen for me in this life, it's okay. I can look forward to improving that skill in the eternities. In heaven, I am totally going to be an olympic archer.

Third- Act With Charity

So, as human beings we have this tendency to look for patterns. We look for things that are similar. We find it comforting to be with others who are very much like ourselves. Except in matters of love. When you fall in love with someone it tends to be with the person whose personality will give you the most “opportunity for growth and maturity” as a couple. But when we are looking for friends, we want people who are like us. Here is the good news. As Relief Society sisters we all have some things in common so we all have the potential for friendship. For starters, we've all got the gospel. Doctrine and Covenants 25:1 tells us “...for verily I say unto you, all those who receive my gospel are sons and daughters in my kingdom.” Okay, check. We have all received his gospel so we are all daughters in the kingdom. It didn't say you had to be living the gospel perfectly, just that you had to receive it and I am pretty sure we have all received the good news somehow or we wouldn't be here. I mean, no one just randomly walked in tonight because the food smelled good, right? Good. Next, we have all been given the gift of charity. In that founding Relief Society meeting Joseph Smith said, “This charitable society- that is according to your natures- it is natural for females to have feelings of charity.” If you look up charity you get all kinds of definitions- the giving of help especially to the poor or needy, benevolent goodwill, generosity, love of humanity- which, of course can all be summed up by the definition we find in Moroni 7:47 that charity is the pure love of Christ and it endureth forever. Whoa. That is heavy. Statements like this- that women naturally possess charity used to really stress me out. I mean, I don't always feel like I am filled with the pure love of Christ and I certainly don't think I have it all the time which means that it isn't enduring forever which means it is time to panic! I have already blown it! I have squandered my natural heavenly gift!

I felt like charity did not come naturally to me and therefore there must be something wrong with me. My Mom, she is the living definition of charity. She's got this down. She is the most nurturing, mushy-gushy person you will ever meet. She will do anything for anybody. I mean she is truly saintly. But not always. She has her moments. We all do. But more importantly, while we all have the capacity for charitable feelings, we do not all have to manifest those feelings in the same way. Everyone is different and that's okay. Everyone has certain people or groups of people or animals or causes that tug at their heart strings. Those tender feelings are charitable feelings. Isn't it great that we have sisters who are particularly in tune with small children? And other sisters maybe who are just really great at talking to teenagers? If there are any of those here tonight I'd like your name and number for future reference. Aren't we lucky to have sisters who have great empathy for those struggling with depression or infertility or serious illness? We all come from different backgrounds, have different experiences in our past and feel strongly about different issues. Further, we express those charitable feelings in different ways. There are sisters here with a gift for kind words. Their compliments are sincere and meaningful, when they talk to me I feel the love of Christ. There are sisters with a gift for listening when someone is hurting. Some of you show your love with baked goods. I am not one of those people (I once tried to make rolls with powdered sugar instead of flour), but I am happy to partake of charity cookies any day. I knew a sister who grew gorgeous flowers and brought a bouquet to church every week, looking for someone who might need a little beauty in their lives. I have come to realize that our Heavenly Father values our charitable acts no matter what form they take. It doesn't matter if you volunteer at the food bank or if your service right now is that you get up every morning and choose to parent with love your difficult teenager or your child with special needs. Your service is valid and valued.

As far as charity enduring forever- when we experience a moment of true charity, one in which we are acting with pure love, that moment and those feelings have the potential of enduring forever in the hearts and minds of both giver and receiver. A charitable act that I will never forget came from a man whose name I can't remember. When Marc and I were newly married we took a road trip from Provo down to San Francisco to visit his mission. On our way home, our car blew a tire in the middle of nowhere Nevada. We limped on a donut tire to the nearest exit which was labled “Battle Mountain”. A billboard proudly proclaimed, “Battle Mountain, Nevada The Armpit of America”. We were in trouble. Armpit was a good description, it was hot and sweaty and a bit malodorous. The town consisted of two gas stations, a motel which was mostly a bar and looked like it hadn't been remodeled since the late 19^th century and a general store. There was a garage at one of the gas stations which sold tires, but it was a holiday weekend. It was late Saturday night and the garage wouldn't open until Tuesday. The prospect of staying in the scary motel was not appealing and we really just wanted to go home. As we sat pondering what to do, a man approached and asked if that was our car with the donut on it. We said it was. He took a look at our other tires and informed us that there was another tire which was so thin it likely wouldn't make it home either. He just happened to have the same make and model of car and he had just bought some new tires for it. He offered to let use have the old ones. They were a little thin, but they would at least get us home. We were so grateful. We followed him to his house but when he went to get the tires for us he found they were already gone. Someone else had taken them. Don't worry he said, I'll just give you two of my new tires and you can be on your way. I can buy some more when the garage opens on Tuesday. Or at least, that is the cleaned up version of what he said. He had mastered the art of swearing so well that he could seamlessly interject a curse word before or after any word in a sentence. We told him we couldn't accept that, could we pay him for them? No, no, he didn't want money, he just wanted us to pay it forward. He and his friends jacked up our car, changed the useless old tires for two brand new ones and wished us luck on our drive home. I wrote down his address so we could send him a thank you card but it got lost somehow and we were never able to find it. He will never know how much his charity meant to a poor newlywed couple but that act of service will stay with us forever and has become a test against which to measure our own generosity.

After Joseph Smith told the sisters of their natural feelings of charity he said, “You are now placed in a situation where you can act according to those sympathies which God has planted in your bosoms.” Relief Society is meant to be a vehicle for expressing charity. It is a society that empowers women to act on those things that are most important to them. How wise Heavenly Father is to give us a variety of sympathies and talents. When we work together as a cohesive unit, whatever the situation is we've got it covered.

Fourth- Do Your Best

I think that's a pretty straightforward statement. Do your best, and know that your best is contingent on your circumstances and that your best may look different from day to day. President Hinckley said, “I have been quoted as saying, 'Do the best you can.' But I want to emphasize that it be the very best. We are too prone to be satisfied with mediocre performance. We are capable of doing so much better.” I don't know that we are satisfied with mediocre performance, but often we are spread so thin that all we can do is try to get by. When we let go of the less important we can do our best on those things that matter. In the book Daughters in My Kingdom, it talks about a charge from President Joseph F. Smith for the Relief Society to lead the way for the women of the world. I liked this paragraph:

The charge to lead out in everything that is praiseworthy, Godlike, uplifting, and purifying is a demanding one. It always has been. But individual Relief Society sisters are not alone in accepting this charge. They are part of a great organization, founded by priesthood authority and strengthened by the teachings and declarations of prophets. They are beloved daughters of God with sacred responsibilities. They are covenant people of the Lamb, “armed with righteousness and with the power of God in great glory.” As they unite with other faithful Saints and learn from the examples of those who have gone before, they can prevail over mortal challenges. They can help build the kingdom of God throughout the world and in their homes.

I know that as we come to know who we are, accept ourselves, act with charity and do our best that what the prophet, Joseph Smith, promised can happen. The angels will not be restrained from being our associates because, whether or not we receive Heavenly visitations, we will be those angels for each other.

Washed Out

January has come and gone... again. Oh and February too. Crazy. Every year I think that this is the year I am finally going to master the art of doing the laundry. Every year I fail. I always think of some innovative system or some new way of motivating myself or a way of making it faster somehow. So far, this year, I've gotten the laundry room completely organized with little color coded and labeled clean laundry baskets. Super. Getting the laundry into the clean laundry baskets is the easy part. I'm capable of running the laundry and last year I mastered the art of sorting it into the clean baskets but that's as far as it goes. We get clean clothes to wear out of those baskets and then put them in the dirty basket at the end of the day (or on the floor, no one's perfect). That's right. We live in wrinkly basket clothes all the time. My idea this year was to get the boys involved and have them be more responsible for their laundry, which has been a goal since the twins were three. Anyway, we had our first laundry success. All of the laundry got folded and put away in drawers and in closets. It was glorious. It was miraculous. It was short-lived. The next morning, Tobias was looking for some clean clothes to wear for the day. (He has strong opinions for a two-year-old about fashion.) He came to me, upset, because there were no clothes in his laundry basket. Excitedly I showed him all of his clothes were neatly folded in his drawers! In his room! Isn't that amazing?!? He looked confused but he picked out pants and a shirt and I helped him get dressed. Then, while I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I turned around to see Tobias with an armload of laundry marching into the laundry room. I followed him to find that he had already made several trips and had relocated all of his clean and folded clothes back to his laundry basket. After all, that is where they have been his entire life and so that is where they must belong. I feel like I have failed my son, like our house is some oddity in the fabric of civilization where people don't even know what drawers are for. (Mother, what these "drawers" of which you speak?) Yep, it's official. When it comes to laundry, I'm a wash-out. And don't even ask my children about the iron and ironing board. They'd probably tell you they're decorative objects. You know, like dressers.

Panjandrum

We love the library. We love that we can borrow books, for free no less, which means we don't have to buy all of the books that our boys want to read. This is good, because sometimes our boys pick real winners- the kind of books that we are relieved to take back. Recently, they brought home a book that was mystifying. It was old, it was odd and frankly made one wonder about the author and illustrator. It was titled The Great Panjandrum Himself.

Apparently, this book was designed as a test of mental well-being because the back cover claims that, "...no healthy-minded man, woman or child can look at [the illustrations] without laughing."

I'm afraid to admit that, for me, the illustrations and text caused more puzzlement than laughter. The complete text reads:
So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage-leaf to make an apple-pie; and at the same time a great she-bear, coming up the street, pops its head into the shop. "What! No soap?" So he died, and she very imprudently married the barber; and there were present the Picninnies, and the Joblillies, and the Garyulies, and the grand Panjandrum himself, with the little round button at top, and they all fell to playing the game of catch-as-catch-can till the gunpowder ran out at the heels of their boots.

So, now that you know the context of the pictures, are you ready to take the test? Remember, if you don't laugh when you see these pictures you should probably consult a psychologist.

Poor woman,This what my apple pies look like too. Her unfortunate baking is probably the reason she had to marry a man with such a very large, red nose. Also, using cabbage to bake an apple pie might not be the best idea.

This man has died from a lack of soap. I'm pretty sure this will eventually be the cause of death for one of our children. He hates bathing so much that I'm a little scared that we won't do it after he moves out of the house.

I love this phrase. Marrying a barber is absolutely imprudent. I mean, what if he uses your hair for practice and you are stuck with a flat-top, buzz cut, or, heaven forbid, a mullet? Also, is anyone else completely creeped out by the small smiling man-child-thing sitting on the gravestone?

This groom is so gifted at cutting that he is going to slice his wedding cake using a folded up piece of paper and a feather. Impressive. Maybe marrying him wasn't so imprudent.

Wow! Further proof of the groom's skills. He has just removed his right hand and grown a new one in it's place. Part man, part starfish that one.

This is, apparently, catch-as-catch-can. I'm not sure the details of the game but I am concerned that all of the men in the picture seem to have lecherous faces. This whole business seems a little risque for 1885.

Talk about cooling your heels. I love that the man is the one fanning himself in this picture. Also, keeping gunpowder in your boots, THAT seems imprudent. What if you explode?

Did you pass? No? That's okay. You know what they say, "A healthy mind is a boring mind," actually I think I just made that up. The point is... actually I'm not sure. The truth is, there is no point. It turns out that the text was, supposedly, written by British playwright Samuel Foote all the way back in 1754 to trip up some hot shot actor and orator named Charles Macklin who claimed that he could memorize any passage after just one reading. The story goes that Macklin was so indignant that he refused to repeat a word of it so we'll never know if he could have memorized it or not. Also, the oldest written copy of the verse that has been found so far was published in 1825 but by that time it was a well-known part of British culture so no one truly knows where it came from. At any rate, in 1885 Mr. Ralph Caldecott, of Caldecott medal fame, decided to illustrate this charming piece of nonsense and thus the library book. As it turned out, this was the last book that Caldecott would illustrate because he died the following year. So enamored were the Brits with the Great Panjandrum that they even named a WWII experimental explosive device after the fellow. It was a rocket propelled cart laden with explosives. It never saw battle because it's rocket-propelled wheels were just too unpredictable, but it certainly sounds exciting. You can see a modern-day mock up on youtube. You know, I've changed my mind about this book. Clearly, one can learn a lot from a bit of nonsense. I may not be healthy-minded but I am curious. Inquiring minds gotta know, even the Great Panjandrum Himself.

We're Off to See the Wizard!

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!
Elijah and I got the opportunity to be in a community production of The Wizard of Oz. Elijah was a munchkin, a poppy, a citizen of the Emerald City and a winged monkey. I got to be a very large munchkin and the Guardian of the Gates. Also, as an adult, I got to be the backstage and on stage guardian of both Elijah and another little boy whose name we will change to Matthew to protect his privacy.

Elijah loved his munchkin mustache and chicken hat.

Anyway, the rehearsals were a bit of a trial but Elijah loved performing and so did Matthew. There were a million fast costume changes so my expert skills at wrangling clothing onto little boys at lightening speed was invaluable in this production. I also brought multiple electronic devices to make sure there was no talking backstage when it wasn't their turn to be hamming it up.
The production itself was not perfect, by any means, but there were a few shining moments. First, we had the most amazing scarecrow of all time. Truly. He could walk into any broadway production of the Wizard of Oz and win the part. He was a terrific physical and emotional actor and he was great with kids. He's single ladies!
Second, the scene where the witch calls her flying monkeys was worth the price of admission to experience. After we got the monkeys all suited up we sent them through tunnels underneath the auditorium so that they could come pouring in the auditorium doors and down the aisles when they were summoned. The kids really got into this and the sheer volume of monkey sounds while small bodies came leaping from nowhere made many of our smaller audience members cry. It was awesome. I got to see it during rehearsal and it made my hair stand on end. Elijah was a truly outstanding monkey.

This is my awesome Emerald City eye make-up. The first time I came home with it on, Tobias climbed up on my lap looked at face and said, "What the heck?!?"

Third, the set people built a really cool giant oz head puppet. The lighting and sound for that part was pretty incredible. It was way better to see it in person than in the movie.
So, we definitely had some things to be proud of. For my part, I was mostly there to support my kiddo and my roles were small and somewhat embarrassing at times but I threw myself into the performance so that it was fun. I liked being the Guardian of the Gate because I got to crack a few jokes but I was disappointed when they wouldn't let me have a gigantic green mustache like the guy in the movie. My friend and I had this idea that I would rip the mustache off and throw it into the audience later in the scene when we break into a calypso dance. There were three adult women who were citizens of Oz so they had us do a little dance front and center stage while we sang a song about the Emerald City. We felt a little bit like Vegas showgirls especially because the song contains the lines "We'll entertain you, make your dreams come true..." complete with shoulder movements and jazz hands. Oh yeah.
I have to say, though, the most memorable part of being the play was keeping tabs on those two boys. I had to make sure they were where they were supposed to be at all times, that they remembered and delivered their lines and that they didn't fall off the stage. It was harder than it sounds. Matthew had quite a few lines because he had an adorable delivery that just made you smile. During one performance, I noticed that he was edging away from our group of munchkins and that he kept putting his hand in his mouth. I started to worry that he was going to miss his cue for a line so I surreptitiously made my way over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. It was then that he turned to me pressed something small and wet into my hand and walked forward to deliver his line. When I looked down I saw that he had handed me the tooth he had just pulled out of his mouth. Awesome. And totally not gross. When we walked off stage after our scene he showed off his tooth to the lion, the scarecrow, Glinda and Dorothy. Best night ever in his opinion.

Elijah and I are munchkining it up. Love this kid.

I love that being in community theater brings together a diverse group of people and that it expands the people you know and interact with. I still run into college students and others from the productions I've done and it's fun to exchange a knowing smile and nod. I'm glad that Elijah got to experience the wonderful world of theater for the first time.