“There’s a storm blowin’ up, a whopper.”

         As we sat in the theatre during the local children’s production of The Wizard Of Oz, I was suddenly struck with the play’s parallels to my life. The cyclone scene was incredible, with a hologram-like cyclone swirling at the back of the stage, while gusts of wind blew into the audience and people and little dogs were propelled from side to side. It was my life lately: The cyclone. The gusts. People flailing around. Maybe Dorothy was going through some sort of uncontrollable hormonal surge when, back on the farm, she was disrespectful and ungrateful to her friends and family. Slightly arrogant, self-involved and frankly quite cheeky, she reminded me of my precious little 13 year old angel....who has lately been arrogant, self-involved and quite cheeky. And having spent much of my day involved in damage control and teaching and re-teaching respect, boundaries and expectations, I couldn’t help but look upon Dorothy with a little righteous parental authority. “Geez, kid” I thought, “Just keep your bloody dog out of the mean lady’s garden and you’ll be fine. In fact, just keep away from mean people altogether! And by the way, your dog bit the witch….on her property. That does spell lawsuit to me, which could have been avoided if you’d have kept the teething Toto under control. Forget the basket, you insolent, hormone-marinated farm girl, and get a leash…and then plant a new garden for the meany-head.” I was obviously not in the moment, but rather processing my incredibly unpredictable and stressful day. Children’s theatre is my new therapy.

         Anyhow, at the moment the tornado-thingy was spinning on stage, Dorothy was vacillating between sweet and stubborn, and the house was falling into unknown territory, I couldn’t help myself from looking over towards my daughter, nodding and giving her the “Notice the similarities?” kind of mom-look. She scoffed, and returned the gesture with the “You’re an idiot” look, (which I’ve started seeing as endearing), dramatically crossed her arms and embarrassed, slumped in her seat. Great theatre.

         In any case, it seems that Dorothy had to go through a heck of a lot of complicated, nonsensical, disturbing, and bizarre situations before she came to her senses, and realized how fortunate she really was back home. I wonder, did the slaying of witches represent conquering the nastiness within her self? Were the flying monkeys suggestive of rampant and wild hormones? Did the ruby slippers symbolize her transition from child to woman? Is water the answer to melting the out-of-control and dreadful mood swings? If so, drink, my child! Drink! Swim! Immerse yourself!

         I’m sure that someday she’ll realize that there’s no place like home….and that Mom and Dad were mostly right….but come to think of it, I believe I was about 30 before that revelation hit me…..

         Oh boy. Let the adventure begin. We are definitely not in Kansas anymore.