Wizard of Oz Part III: Friends

The girls had some very special friends in the audience!

Here's Annika's friend Emily.

And here's "The Other Esther" as we call her. She brought our Esther some roses.

Here's The Other Esther's sister Christy, who was also a jitterbug. Friends make everything better!

Wizard of Oz: Part II (Jitterbug Jitters)

We made it to the theater on time, with time enough for last minute touch-ups. The word on the street is that my friend Tiffany does the 'best buns' so she did ME's for me!

And what does a jitterbug do when she has the jitters before her first performance?

She prays...

And when I saw these sweet girls huddled up together, praying of their own initiative, I knew this Wizard of Oz whimsical comedy would hold much deeper emotions for me than just humor. I am so thankful for so many things. I am so thankful for the friends God has given my children. I am so thankful for a remnant here. And I am so thankful when my children begin to grow on their own in their faith.

And then as she walked down the hall to 'backstage,' all I could think was, "Her dad is going to die when he sees her in that costume!!!" Yes, she's growing up. I love you, jitterbug!

Wizard of Oz Part I

Well, last night was the big night! This morning, we all (teachers) sort of stood around the office just basking in that..."These are OUR kids! Can you believe how well they did?!" glow. Our director told me I am free to post pictures now, so here we go....

The girls got home at 3:30, after their walk home from school. Then began the organized, but fast, plan to get them rested, fed, watered (yes, I remember to 'water' my children better than I do my plants!), make-upped, and out to door to the theater by 5:30. All went smoothly, except for one thing. Big Ben did NOT like how his sister looked in stage makeup!

I have a confession. I know I should not want to make my son cry, but there is this little part of me that thinks it is so adorable when he is scared, I have to do it just once. I think Firstborn inherited that trait. She would peek out at him, see his darling face start to tremble, then just cry, "Oh, he's sooooooo cute!"

Firstborn was a jitterbug...half plant, half animal. Her animal of choice was a cat. How does she look?

And these two precious babies are munchkins. They were supposed to look as whimsical as possible. Being the good Southern woman that I am, I had plenty of red lipstick choices for them. I gave them sparkly purple eye shadow with little curly-Q lines just outside of their eyes. Oh, how they liked those curly-Q's.

Next up: Pre-stage jitters!

We're Off to See the Wizard!

It's finally here. They've been practicing for about 3 months, and all of it culminates tonight and the next 2 nights!

I was instructed NO Wizard of Oz photos on my blog, facebook account, or anywhere else until after the performance. Our drama teacher adheres to the old (best) ways of doing things...nothing should spoil the show ahead of time for the audience. I complied, but it was oh, so hard. When the middlers were giggling at the purple eyeshadow they got to wear for rehearsal, it was hard to not share it with you! When I saw my beautiful firstborn get tossed in the air by a 9th grade boy, I resisted the urge to snap a photo and blog about what my heart was saying to me! But I obeyed and kept it all quiet. All that work and all those practices have been worth it all! I was so proud to send them off to school today, the day of Opening Night, sporting their cast t-shirts and jeans!

For these two days, they get to defy their Papa's school rules and wear t-shirts and jeans to school. It's a fitting reward for their hard work, I think!

And their names are on the back of the t-shirt!

And just because they could, they wore flip flops to school! That alone made it worth all the work!

Stay tuned for photos AFTER the final performance on Saturday night. As for me, I'm off to see the wizard...

The Weekend Project

Any little snippet of free time for my kids this weekend was consumed with the following:

We have a little store with food basics in the bottom floor of our building. Almost daily I ask them to run down for a loaf of bread (It has no preservatives in it and has to be bought daily).

So, Firstborn came up with the idea of stringing some bands together and tying a bag on the end. That way, when I want a loaf of bread, one sister can go down and buy it and place it in the bag. Then another sister can hoist it up. However, it was one of the windiest days I can remember, so part of the process became making the bag something other than a kite. I just had to stand on the balcony and watch because the laughter was so contagious. And then there was the ever-present possiblity of it flying onto Mrs. Neighbor's balcony, and that added a whole other element of suspense.

Then finally, success. A fresh loaf of bread hoisted up 5 stories! Shrieks of laughter and joy erupted.

Why I would not make a good P.I.

Have I ever told you about my neighbor below? It seems like I haven't, maybe because it is not one of the prettier aspects of my existence here. I strive to help you walk away from your computer with a warm-fuzzy. But Mrs. Neighbor does not evoke warm fuzzies. I must first say this, I have WONDERFUL other neighbors. All except this one. The others are precious. They've hand-knitted my baby sweaters, they offer me plates of food, they put my children in their cars and driven them to school when the street dogs are out. I could go on and on.

Just after we moved in, a neighbor told me in confidence that the previous tenant had moved out because the downstairs neighbor was so nasty. Surely that was just a rumor. But even if it weren't, I wouldn't have let that stop me from moving in. This apartment is perfect for us. But in a very short time, I realized exactly what they were talking about. She began banging her broom on her roof at us anytime she heard something in our apartment. We'd get 'banged' for pulling out our kitchen chairs to sit and eat. We'd get 'banged' when one of the kids dropped a toy.

So, what did I do? I heaped some coals. I bought pads to put on the feet of all our chairs. I baked her cookies. She loved my cookies, and even asked for the recipe. I told her they had peanut butter chips from America in them, that she couldn't make them without those, that I'd bring her some back. Then I did. (I gave up luggage space with God's help!) I had the kids try to stay on the rug in the morning. I did everything I could think of to try to appease her.

One day the kids got the idea to roller skate on our outside balcony. We have a two story apartment and on our second floor, one balcony totally hangs outside of the building so I didn't think it would disturb anyone. When they roller skated, she started banging because she could hear a faint rolling sound from two stories down. Then suddenly the banging stopped. And the police came to my door. (It seems like I did tell you this, didn't I?) I'll spare you the details, but I'll say two things...I was told it was "against the law to roller skate on the balcony" (to which my Turkish friends have rolled their eyes and said, "Please!" in their own Turkish way!) and I experienced discrimination in a way that I never have before. I know the Turkish word for "foreigner" well, but this day I experienced unfairness to a new degree. It was not a happy day.

Now, are you ready for the point of this novel? My latest offense against my neighbor is where I shake my rugs. Shaking your rugs out the windows/balconies is done by every Turk I know. So, I shake too! Mrs. Neighbor has a glassed-in balcony, but I shook my rugs out that balcony one day when one window panel was about 3 inches open. She started screaming about dust coming in, then she ran into the common area of the apartment and screamed more. Then she banged at me every 1/2 hour the rest of the day. It was not a happy day.


What to do? I pray for her. I greet her warmly. I have asked the Lord what to do. But I have finally come to the conclusion that she is not a healthy woman. I doubt I can ever please her. A thought occurred to me one day. I hear and see her shaking her rugs on that exact same balcony below me (you know, the one she screamed at me for using). If I took a video or pictures of her, then if (WHEN!) she reports me to the apartment manager, I'll just smile and run the clip. I'd become a Private Investigator!

So, I began to develop a plan. Video. That's the key to solving this. But let me tell you, every time I heard her rug shaking, my heart started pounding! I began to sweat! I'd run for the camera, then she'd be gone. I even once saw her shaking them when I was down on the street outside, so I hid behind a tree, fumbling for my camera. Then finally, glory be...after weeks of these unproductive heart-stopping rituals of running for my camera, one day this week I heard the "VWHOOM!" of a rug. I stealthily (actually, shakily) made my way through the house, grabbed my hand cam, hid behind the door, then click-click-clicked away. I took at least 6 shots, including a video. She didn't see me until the end, when she scowled at me. I think I shook for 30 minutes after that. I called CC and said, "I did it. I did it. I'm ok. Whew." And I wondered, "Do Private Investigators shake this much on a stakeout?" I doubt it. Anyway, I pray she leaves me alone, and I do NOT plan to publicize this video to anyone here...unless of course she pulls out the big guns on me. If I get a knock at the door and a complaint, the photo above is my evidence! (See, my life is not all roses! You've encouraged me to be real. I am just being real.)

Pooh's Pot O' Huny

This Sunday morning, I made pancakes, strawberries, and bacon (saved, frozen, and now freely served since we can stock up on more this summer!) Perma-Baby kept trying to tell us something about her pancake. Then we figured out it was Winnie The Pooh's pot o' honey.