The Hero in Me

Sometimes I want to climb to the top of the nearest mountain and proclaim the awesomeness of m eldest child at the top of my lungs.  Since today is his birthday, it seems like a good time to do that without embarrassing him too terribly.

First, there's this:

"My Cousin's Hero" - Digital Art Entry in the "Inspirations" Contest

The things I am proud of (specifically):

• His conceptual representation of the theme "The Hero in Me."  
• That he understands and embraces his role as role model in the lives of his brothers and cousins.
• That Red, as Adam consistently refers to him, would happily play right into the photo shoot.
• That Adam quickly and confidently navigated Photoshop, eating everything up as fast as I could teach it to him to piece together the two original photos and then add filters for maximum effect.
• That something as cool as this kid literally came out of my body.
• That my son is ridiculously handsome (and reminds me so much of his dad).
• That he wrote this as his description for the project, "When my cousin Red cries, he comes straight to me.  I feel like a hero because it makes me feel like he looks up to me."

Then, just for fun, there's these tidbits from recent text conversations with my recently annointed texter:

• I asked Adam what cake design he wanted for his birthday, and he sent me a picture of Call of Duty Black Ops.  I responded, "That is not a cake!  I would have to have some mad skills..."  He immediately responded, "You do.  :) "
• After I sent a "Thanks for being so responsible" text, he sent back, "I know I'm awesome."
• The day I left a note that said, "Text me when you wake up," I received a text at 10:45.  It said, "I woke up at 9:30."

I've always enjoyed having Adam around, treating him as much as a grown up as his behavior allows.  I am looking forward to living with a legit 11 year old and excited to watch him enjoy this next part of his adventure.

Sarah

Meet Sarah.  Having recently  made the trek west from Alabama, Sarah is still trying to figure out exactly where she fits into her new Oregon home.  She spends much of her time observing the other girls and trying to figure out the appropriate ways to act.  Although she takes a bit from each of the six girls in her social circle, Sarah can't help but hang on the wise words of Milly.

Although she has her pick of suitors, she's being courted most directly by Zeke, a handsome young man whose manners remind her of the southern hospitality she left behind.  

What Zeke may not realize is that although Sarah loves to be the center of attention at the parties, she's never been kissed, and the thought of being alone with him (or any other man), scares her half to death.  When Milly describes going off with her husband Adam to a sheltered cabin just for two, Sarah makes up her mind to entertain suitors in public only!

But Sarah didn't account for meeting Frank Pontipee, a handsome mountain man whose shirt matches her favorite hair bows and who happens to be as tall as a church steeple, a major selling point for this southern girl who wants to be taken care of and protected on the Oregon frontier.



And then there's Frank's unique ability to sweep her off her feet - literally.



Things get a little complicated for Sarah, however, when she realizes that both Frank and Zeke are willing to fight for her.  Unable to decide between the two, Sarah decides to leave it up to whichever man leaves the social dance as the winner.



When Zeke picks a fight with Adam, the oldest Pontipee, she figures she has made up her mind and will continue to allow Zeke to court her.



Much to Zeke's delight, she even decides to let him give her one little kiss, if he promises to close his eyes first.  Sarah gets her first kiss, alright.  But not from the genteel Zeke.



Just as Sarah is deciding that kissing isn't as scary as she once thought, she realizes she isn't kissing Zeke at all.  Unprepared for this turn of events, she kicks and screams all the way through the mountain pass, contributing to the avalanche that keeps her trapped with Frank and the Pontipees (and five of her closest friends) for the winter.

But Frank has his charms, and it isn't long before he's convinced her to give kissing him another try.



Although she can't shake her obedient nature and her shyness still makes her a bit hesitant, Sarah gives into the entertaining game of being courted by Frank.  She even learns to make a few moves of her own.



A bit drunk on the power she wields over Frank, Sarah eventually gains confidence in herself and in her place in life.  Not only that, but she starts to see more than just fascination in Frank's face.



Sarah starts to realize it isn't really a game anymore, and that she can't imagine being with anyone other than Frank Pontipee for the rest of her life.  But the coming of spring brings with it the knowledge that she will have to get permission from her family and the town before being allowed to marry Frank.



With the help of a little, white lie (Sarah and the other girls each claim responsibility for a baby the townspeople hear after the spring thaw), Sarah is able to stand with her best friends to marry the Pontipee clan.



Sarah even gets Zeke's blessing - in the form of a shotgun wedding.



As Sarah holds Frank's hands, they listen to the preacher speak the words that will bind them.  She looks up into his eyes and sees that he's actually crying.  In this exact moment, Sarah falls completely in love with Frank.  And she knows that she is all in.



I'm proud to get to be a part of this (and six other love stories) in the Empress Theatre's Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. 

Purple Ink

I woke up this morning with Willy Wonka lyrics on my mind. "I write my thoughts down in purple ink and think positive."  I have to say that it sounds like a pretty good plan.

You've heard the story of the two wolves? The ones that live inside of us, battling out the good and evil? As the story goes, the determining factor is which wolf you feed.

Then there's the small differentiation surrounding the way Mormons view Christ's death, choosing to focus on the Resurrection more than the Crucifixion.

Throw into this recipe the fact that "lack of control" has left me feeling a bit off balance for the last year.  And you get this:

Today I choose to think positive. I choose to feed the right wolf. But I have a bit of a problem. When I glance inwardly to check the reserves, there is a huge, heaping pile of food for the Big Bad Wolf. And only a small pile of the good. Some days I drown in bad memories of this day, specific and overwhelming and right at the surface. While I do think there is some merit to airing them out now and then, today I want to make a pile of good food so big that I can't even see the other pile.

Can you help me?

I am looking for your positive experiences that happened in the hours or days after Tyler died. The tender mercies. The times you laughed. The times you cried, but in a good way. Please help me relive those today. Through your descriptive inagery, take me there and let me stay awhile.

Write your thoughts down - in metaphorically purple ink - so I can think positive.

Sad-isfaction

Several different Jake attempts

I sat beside Dylan at a loss for how to help as he hung his head heavily in deep despair.  Strewn around him lay several attempts at drawing Jake, the most recent of which had caused him to declare, "This looks nothing like him," before taking his forlorn pose at the table.  Somehow, his plans to draw a book about Jake had taken a turn for the worst, and I knew better than to think that my high praise of his drawings would do anything to change his own critical eye.

"Should we call Aunt Michelle?" I asked.  "Maybe if she came over to draw a picture of Jake, you could try to draw one like hers."  It was the only idea I had, and I was pleased when he agreed. 

Artists at work

"What part of his drawing is he upset about?" she asked over the phone. 

"I don't know.  He just says they look nothing like him, and he is really upset."  I added details about the pile of discarded Jakes all over my table.  "There must be six attempts here, and he isn't happy with any of them.  Is there any way you can come over?" 

Well, Aunt Michelle came to the rescue, and the pair got straight to work.  Jake even got in on the fun, posing for his portrait.  I had to laugh when Michelle started criticizing her own work, erasing a too-long neck.  "I think it looks perfect," Dylan said.  "It is just right."  But Michelle pointed out that he likely gets his perfectionism from her and proceeded to work on the proportions. 

Michelle's quick sketch

They studied the dog, trying to get his spots in just the right places.  And Dylan, usually stingy with his compliments, pronounced the final product to be "so good."

And then he realized his kindergarten motor skills wouldn't be able to accomplish the detail.  "I'll never be able to draw it like that," he complained, back to his dejected square one. 

This time, I knew what to do.  I taught him how to trace Michelle's version onto his own piece of paper.  It was like magic.  He was thrilled to be able to get the basic shape right using the guide and then color it on his own.

Later, in speedy and high-pitched tones, he told his brothers all about his process. 

"Are you satisfied?" Adam asked.

"No!  I'm not SAD!  I'm happy!" he answered.

Kirk and I giggled silently while Adam carefully tried the question again.

"No, Dylan... are you sat-is-fied?"

"I don't even know what that means."

Finally sad-isfied

A Gift to be Simple

I think Jack was in 5th grade the year that he gave me my favorite present I ever received.  That year, the school he attended held some sort of activity where students could exchange tickets for gifts for their family members.  Jack had carefully selected one item for each member of the family and informed my mom that he wouldn't need any help Christmas shopping that year.  He had it under control.

He wrapped each gift and started what became a several-years-long tradition of including a handwritten note in each.  I don't remember exactly what mine said, but I still keep the gift he gave me displayed proudly with my prized possessions. 

I had been collecting porcelain dolls for several years, generally receiving one each birthday and Christmas.  By this time, I must have had nearly twenty, with two favorites in particular marking important milestones in my life.  My mom gave me a beautiful doll with brown curly hair clad in a beautiful gold and black dress when I graduated from high school.  The second I received on my wedding day. 

I guess Jack knew this about me, although I hadn't realized he had paid any attention.  But when it was my turn to unwrap my gift, I revealed a six-inch tall porcelain doll in velvet and fur carrying a Christmas package.  That he'd picked it out on his own meant so much to me.  That he had paid for it with his own tickets added to its sentimental value.  But that Jack knew I loved porcelain dolls has stuck with me ever since.

It's that time of year when I probably ought to start thinking of Christmas.  When gifts need to be bought and wrapped in preparation for the joy of Christmas morning.  As I head out into busy stores with flashing lights and noisy advertisements, I hope I can remember my joy on a Christmas 12 years ago and remember 'tis a gift to be simple.

Important Questions

There I am, fully engrossed in Scarlett's giggles, when I hear Dylan's still-tiny voice pipe up from a few feet away.  "It's fun to have a baby around, isn't it Mom?"  I nodded and smiled, still cooing and receiving huge baby grins in return.  He continued, "Maybe we should get one."

I laughed and asked him where he thought we should get one.  "I don't know," he said, pausing to think.  "Maybe you should ask Michelle.  She knows how to get one."  I laughed, and he looked up questioningly.  "Oh... are you just kidding with me?"

"Yes, I am just kidding, honey.  I know how to get babies."

For the record... bad answer.

"Oh.  How do you get babies, Mom?"

I gave him a brief, euphemistic explanation.  "Well, usually babies come from moms and dads who love each other."

"Well, you and Dad love each other every day."  Another long pause.   "I think you might accidentally get a baby." 

And so explained that Daddy and I decided not to get any more babies.  So the doctors made it so we can't accidentally get any.  I reminded him that is why we get so excited when Aunt Lisa and Aunt Michelle have babies, because we get to borrow theirs.  I told him he would have to wait until he finds a girl to marry before he gets any more babies.

"But you and Dad will be dead by then!" he exclaimed. 

"No, we won't.  We get to be your babies' Grandma and Grandpa."

"Oh.  Will I still be living at this house?"

"Nope." 

Glad we cleared a few things up.

Are We Friends

I love to sort through my blog drafts and find half-written gems I can finish.  I especially love the super random kind that make me wonder, "Where was I even going with that...?"  It is in that spirit of generally questioning my own sanity that I bring you a quiz I wrote in January. 

 

1 point for each of my siblings that you can name

2 point for each of the Casdorphs you have met
5 points if you know what Casdorph means
5 points if you can tell a funny story about Charlie
5 points if you have played games at my house
10 points if I have played at yours

5 points if you have been awkwardly hugged by Kirk

10 points if you don't think it's awkward

5 points for every time you have seen me cry

10 points if we hug regularly
1 point for every show
    We were in together
    You saw me in (or that I directed)
    I saw you in
    Or a member of your immediate family was in with me
10 points if you can name one of my favorite authors (James Dashner isn't one, btw)
1 point for every time you brought me food

 

And... go.