OOMPA LOOMPA SELFIE

Get ready for a flurry of riveting posts as I update you on my life and times. OK, maybe not riveting, but I’ve become accustomed to winning arguments with my teen about when specific things have happened in our life by checking Odd. If it’s significant, I’ve posted about it. It’s fun to see the bewildered, startled look on my teen’s face—the one who professes to have the all mighty, infallible memory when he finds out he is wrong. I know bloggers are supposed to have higher callings, but my blogging calling is proving once in a while that I, the mother, am right as rain and the teen is wrong as mud. Or something like that. So I blog on about our life and times so I can have the opportunity to say, “Wrong wrong again, teen breath.”

The Chicago Waldorf School senior play, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, closed on May 24, 2014, after a four-night run,  The reviews were good, very good; several of the actors’ parents gave it a four-star rating. It was so good that after sitting through it eight times (yes, eight times), I can honestly say I did not start to play the game 2048 on my iPhone until the last performance. It was so good that I saw several dads awake in the audience after intermission, and they were not fathers of the actors. My favorite part was when my kid was on stage as Mr Beauregarde or as an Ommpa Loompa —which, due to the nature of the play, was most of the time—which gave me time to enjoy my kid’s friends (who were also on stage most of time) and honestly be able express sentiments like “AMAZING,” “AWESOME” and “Brought tears to my eyes” when I saw my fellow senior parents. And guess what? Every time Charlie and Willy Wonka sang the “Candy Man” song and did their dance, it brought tears to my eyes. Every single time. And when they took that final bow, I cried every single time despite knowing the teen thespians were racing to their dressing rooms screaming, “Free, free at last!” and would soon be demanding food money.

The parents of the senior class were in charge of the concession stand for the play. We created and decorated a mock candy factory, wrapped candy treat bags, made homemade treats, hit up bakeries, hauled ice and coolers, and staffed a concession stand for four play performances. The graduating class has 13 kids, which means roughly 19 parents participated in the fun. Our hard work was rewarded and we made over $3,000 selling cups of popcorn, cupcakes, cookies and candy. Lots and lots of candy. OK, Our prices were on the high side—but hey, it was for a very good cause: We were raising money so our graduating seniors could go on an awesome boat trip in Hawaii and snorkel and commune with dolphins. In other words, we were raising money so we could send our darlings who had whined us into oblivion while preparing for the last couple of weeks of the play far, far away. We, the 12th grade parents, had earned the right to miss them.

We did have one complaint about our concession prices, though. One woman, after inquiring about the price of a homemade meat empanada, informed us that we were raping her by charging $3.00. Shall I put this in perspective for you? Empanadas take hours to make. The dough has to be cut, the filling has to be made, and the little pies have to be filled and tenderly closed with a fork or rolled over, depending on if it is a meat or chicken empanada. The parents who made this tasty treat work full-time jobs. Of course, I did not explain this to the violated woman; I just politely explained we had to fund our teens’ trip to Hawaii and then kissed her. Not really. But I thought about it. Instead, I went on to satisfy the next customer.

A video of the opening night of the play will be available for your viewing pleasure on Vimeo very soon. Of course, I chose opening night to have the videographer come, and the second performance was much stronger. However, I may have been the only one to notice that my actor lost all his lines when his “daughter” turned into a blueberry and ad-libbed the whole scene. Oh well, I’m sure it happens in the theatre all the time. In any case, I’ll let you know the minute you can click over to Vimeo so you don’t have to hold your breath or anything. In the meantime, here is a simple slide show for your viewing pleasure.

Odd Loves Company,