Blessings and Tonys and Zombies

My sister is here for a visit this weekend, with Tiny Nephew and Slightly-Larger Nephew. It’s excellent to have them here. CC and all the kids are thrilled because they haven’t met Tiny Nephew before, and we don’t get to see most of my family more than once a year, tops. I’m happy to report that Tiny Nephew still has itty bitty feet.

The Puggle and the Fuggle are fascinated by the sounds Tiny Nephew makes. They like that he’s small, and smells like milk and poop. They’ve found a kindred spirit.

CC and I both had to work two shows yesterday right after they got here, but my sister kept me updated with pictures. This is the one that broke my heart:

The clown, the baby of our family, bacon-crazed, never-serious #5, with Tiny Nephew, sitting up straight, being responsible, resting his hand on the baby’s belly. I showed it to someone at work and she asked, “When did he grow up?” and I said, “Apparently, right then, when he had someone to be older than.”

Yes, they keep asking for a baby. No, we’re not going to have one.

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

CC and I have a party to go tonight for his work.

We both have pretty cool jobs. Speaking for myself only, the fact that I have this job is proof of some benevolent force working in the universe because if I had the job I deserve, it would likely involve cleaning up after an exploding whale.

Last night a man came up to me at the end of the show and insisted that my main speakers hadn’t been on all night. He had an English accent so he already sounded smarter than me. I told him I’d check it out, but I think he was looking for a different answer, because he wouldn’t leave.

English dude: You must believe me. I’ve seen it three times. Your speakers weren’t on.

Me:

Because really, I’ve got nothing for that. Nothing at all.

The Tony awards, the reason for tonight’s party, don’t mean much to anyone except to the people that work in theater. Okay, let’s be honest: Theater doesn’t mean much to anyone, unless they work in theater. There is a small and mighty cross section of die-hard fans across the globe, small being the key word.

When CC was touring with Phantom in the 80’s, the crew once exchanged house seats for tickets to a Space Shuttle Launch. That’s badass. By the time I got on the road, it didn’t matter how big or high-profile the show was, nobody had heard of it.

I toured with Aida (the musical written by Elton John and Tim Rice) and largely, if people recognized the name, they thought it was the opera (by Verdi). If they saw the commercial, they thought it was about interracial love.

*sigh*

Loading out the Hairspray tour in Providence, sun coming up near the end of a twenty-two hour work day, a minivan pulls into the alley and flags me down.

Me: Yes?

Woman in Van: Are you with the Wiggles?

*sigh*

It ain’t rock’n’roll, that’s for sure. But once a year we get a shot on prime time TV. Broadway has some ridiculously talented people and you should tune in tonight, CBS at 8pm EST, and check some of them out. You won’t get to see the stagehands though, unless something goes horribly, horribly wrong.

CC’s show is up for practically every award tonight. I’m stupidly excited for them.

The first Tony for Sound Design was given in 2008. My two very favorite sound designers are up for the award tonight, my designer (Steve Kennedy) and CC’s (Brian Ronan). I have a million people to be grateful for, but I am deeply, deeply indebted to these two men. Without them, all this would have been a very different story.

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

Last night I dreamt of zombies. It was one of those dreams where you look around and you gradually see that the situation is worse than you first thought, and you realize that you’re the only one who knows it, and you keep looking around and all of these very normal seeming people are actually all zombies and they get more and more zombie looking and therefore more dangerous every second, and one, who had been holding my hand was suddenly grabbing my wrist and he twitched and I recognized him for what he was and started punching the crap out of him.

CC, springing straight up in bed: Jesus Christ!! WHY ARE YOU PUNCHING ME?

Me: ZOMBIE! ZOMBIE!!!!

CC: STOP PUNCHING ME!

Me: I HAVE TO, YOU’RE A ZOMBIE!!!

CC: STOP! I’M NOT A ZOMBIE! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?

Me:

Because I had nothing for that, either.

And now, I have to go see if I fit into any of my party dresses.

Tell me about your blessings, theater opinions, or zombie experiences.

My Proudest Parenting Moment (so far)

Was this:

This is #4 a year ago after we did the first trial run of her makeup for her school’s talent show.

One of her friends that suggested they do a version of Rock and Roll All Nite for the event. How, may you ask, did a group of fourth-grade girls come to this decision? Simple: Gene Simmons is a genius.

About two years ago, I suddenly tuned in to what #4 and #5 were singing that I’d been ignoring for several minutes.

#4 and #5: I. Wanna rockandroll all niiiiiight. And party ev-a-ree day. I.

They were six and nine at the time. I suppose I should have taken the opportunity to give an anti-drug speech, but “party” has a very different meaning to most nine year olds than it does to most teenagers. Plus, I like the band.

Me: How do you know that song?

#4 and #5: Fairly Odd Parents.

Me: Hang on.

I rifled through my CD’s and pulled out Destroyer and KISS. #5 by this time had gone off in pursuit of something shiny or else bacon, so I handed them to #4 and told her to check them out. She came back about twenty minutes later.

#4: I love this band!

If you have kids of a certain age, you probably are familiar with the cartoon Fairly Odd Parents. That May they did this heavily promoted mini series epic adventure, the Wishology Trilogy. It was all the little kids were talking about. Timmy had to do something dreadfully important in order to save himself and all of humanity and Fairyland.

Somehow, the key to the entire thing suddenly involved KISS and one of their guitars. Again, I say to you, Gene Simmons is a genius. The Big Beginning to Wishology ends with a performance by a cartoon KISS of Rock n Roll All Nite.

Back to my story. These girls decide all on their own that they’re going to do a full lip sync performance, costumes and makeup and props and the whole deal. They practiced a lot over at someone else’s house, one mom helped get outfits together, I helped find wigs and makeup, and they did all the rest. They even did their own choreography. The only thing left for the moms to do was actually apply the makeup. I think it was, to date, the most stressful thing I’ve done as a parent, not counting emergency room visits.

I only wish I had better pictures. It was awesome. See the tiny kick drum with the band logo? Sweet.

It was one of those talent shows where everybody wins, which was annoying, because they totally kicked everyone else’s ass, even if they were lip synching.

groupshot — Hula hoops? Please. We're KISS.

Yes, there are two Pauls (because there are five friends). Sadly, one of the Pauls had to move away before Halloween, when the whole thing was revisited. She was missed.

That Halloween was the only year that CC and I have both been off and able to take the kids trick-or-treating. Only #4 and #5 will still be seen with us.

That’s okay. We walked with #5 and watched as KISS hit every house, and dare I say it? They were rock stars. Great reactions from everyone who answered the door.

Shortly after Halloween, KISS played Madison Square Garden and I got to take #4 to her very first concert. The night that I scored the tickets online, she was already in bed. I went in and woke her up.

Me: Wake up. I have to tell you something.

#4: (blinks) Am I in trouble?

Me: No, I got you something! I got us something.

#4: What?

Me: KISS tickets! We’re going to see KISS in concert in six weeks.

#4: Everybody?

Me: No, just me and you.

#4: (starts crying)

Me: Oh no! I thought you’d want to go!

#4: I do! I do! These are happy tears!

I didn’t know kids had happy tears. I do now.

We didn’t do makeup for the concert, but we had a blast.

So let’s recap. From one Fairly Odd Parents episode that was viewed in my house, KISS grossed $180 for two concert tickets, $20 for the new CD, $35 for a t-shirt, and just over $125 for five KISS wigs. Nicely done, Gene. Well played.

Here’s another family Gene is leaving his mark on.

Something Unsettling Has Happened

Four and a half years ago when they came to live with us, #4 looked like this:

Little, messy, cute. You can also see her in my header picture above: I’m in the Mustang with #3, #4 and #5. She’s wearing the same shirt and I’m not entirely convinced the pictures were taken the same day. I think she wore that shirt all week.

This week I turned around and saw this (and, of course, snapped a picture):

Umm, yeah.

Kids grow up. I get it. I’ve seen it happen and every parent seems shocked when it happens to their kids. But here’s the thing: I’ve watched her four siblings change too, and that didn’t surprise me.

#5 is exactly like his Dad. They both value making people laugh, bacon, and boobies. Every change in #5 brings him closer to that.

From the very beginning I could see the spark of who the three oldest girls were becoming. The opposite of an afterimage. I merely stood by and witnessed. Cool, yes, definitely. An honor.

But not exactly surprising. More like watching an image coming into focus, like on a Polaroid. You know it’s coming and it’s fun to watch the edges sharpen, the color blossom, the picture become clear.

Maybe it had to do with their ages when they came to us. Maybe it’s more about this one being the most ethereal. The one most likely to be taken by elves.

But this one, this #4.

I didn’t see it coming. Caught me totally off guard.

She had a choir concert this week, that’s the reason for the dress. I was putting her to bed that night and I told her how pretty and grown up she looked. She said, “I know, it’s crazy, right?” She then proceeded to tell me not to worry, that I would only see her dressed that way for 5th grade promotion (in a couple weeks), 8th grade promotion, her prom, and high school graduation.

I’m glad she stopped there. That was all a bit much for me. She doesn’t even wear a bra yet.