This Mommy's favorite game - #LTYM 2013

As promised in yesterday's post, here is the text of the essay I read at Listen to Your Mother Indianapolis earlier this month:

Photo by Mike Washington Photography

This Mommy’s Favorite Game
I’m not sure what happens at your house, but in our house, we spend a lot of time playing games. They mostly fall into two categories -- those that involve suicidal birds or digital versions of famous sports stars (I’m talking video games, people) and those that require hours of practice, driving to fields and gyms all over creation and result in foul-smelling laundry.

A typical weekend for our family looks like this:  basketball, soccer, play practice -- drama is a game all unto itself -- on Saturday, followed by more drama and soccer on Sunday. I’m sure you’re familiar with that.

But games are not just for kids. I have a favorite game that I like to play, too. It's called "Mommy's Legs Are Broken and She Can't Get Off the Couch."

My favorite game has just two basic rules:

1. It can only be played when there is nowhere anyone has to be, because Mommy's legs are pretty much required for driving to soccer practice. Which means getting to play this game is a darn near-miracle.

2. It can only be played when Daddy is not home. Otherwise Daddy will try to play too and, well, that just ruins everything.

Other than that, “Mommy’s Legs Are Broken” has no rules. There are no uniforms to be washed, although jammies are recommended.  No equipment necessary, but I will say that having the phone, iPad and TV remote within reach makes it  more enjoyable.

The game generally starts when one or more children ask for something that he or she is perfectly capable of getting for themselves.

Kid: "Mommy, can you get me a glass of milk?"

Me: "Nope. Sorry."

Kid: "Why not?"

Me: "Because Mommy's legs are broken and she can't get off the couch."

Kid: "Arrgghh! Not again! I hate this game."

Which is how you know this is a real game, because there are members of the "opposing" team saying not so nice things to your team.

From there, the game is totally up to the Mommy.

"Can you please bring me a Diet Coke?" -- Pleases and thank yous and other common courtesies are still expected. Mommy's legs may be broken, but her sense of social etiquette is not.

"Can you pick up all the shoes and take them to the right rooms upstairs?"

Generally, this game is a good way to get things accomplished, like having the family room picked up, without Mommy having to be the one to do all the work.

Warning: once the children get the hang of the game, they will try to play too. This is NEVER allowed. Kids’ legs are never broken. Only Mommy's.

The game can end in a variety of ways:

1.   Mommy's had enough rest that she feels ready to take on the family again. Please note: this has never, in the history of “Mommy’s legs are broken,” ever happened.

2.   The doorbell rings and a stranger is at the door. At this point,  Mommy must get off the couch because children are not allowed to open the door for strangers. (You can keep the game going by telling all the kids to be quiet and act like no one is home, hoping the stranger leaves soon.)

3.   A fight breaks out among the children resulting in blood or bones sticking out. Any other level of fighting can be dealt with from the couch, generally by leveling threats such as “no video games for a week” or “I will make tuna noodle casserole for dinner if you don’t knock it off.”

4.   The house catches fire and Mommy must evacuate.

There you have it. The basics of my favorite game, "Mommy's Legs Are Broken and She Can't Get Off the Couch." Coming in a boxed set with bonus margarita mix to a store near you this Mother’s Day.

They laughed at me

They laughed at me and that was a very good thing. It's been 13 days since Listen to Your Mother -- Indianapolis. Almost two weeks since 14 of us stormed the stage at the Indiana History Center to share our tales of motherhood in all its glory...and other forms that motherhood takes.

The experience left me feeling like there are not enough words in the English language to describe the emotions, the mood and the connections. Amazing. Magical. Fantastical. Those are a few good ones to start.

Many of my fellow cast members shared stories that were poignant and heart-tugging. Not me. I have motherhood stories like that, sure. But I wanted to share laughter. When I read my piece at the first LTYM rehearsal, I was a little worried how it would be received. They laughed at me. Those 13 other women sat around the table and laughed at the words I'd written -- exactly as I'd hoped they would.

So on the night of Listen to Your Mother, I prayed that the nearly-sold out audience would find my words just as ticklish to their senses of humor.

I launched into my piece, titled "This Mommy's Favorite Game." In the first few sentences, there were a few chuckles. But when I hit my first big punch line, close to 300 people looked at me, tossed back their heads and roared with laughter.

I loved it.

I stopped for a minute, looked around and soaked up all the laughter. It was like fuel for my soul. I kept moving through my story, more talking to my 300 closest friends for the moment than reading, pausing to listen to the chuckles, the guffaws, the chortles, the giggles.


And just like that, it ended. My piece was over and the laughter settled. But I can still hear it, still feel it's warmth. It's addicting. I crave it.

And I wonder just where it is that I will get my next fix. 

------
If you have just a minute, you can read the text of my humorous essay. And if you wait until later in the summer, I'll post the link to the video of whole dang show!

(PS -- Thanks to Mike Washington Photography for all the terrific photos.)

Almost showtime!

Listen to Your Mother - Indianapolis is just about 3 hours away and I'm trying to take my mind off the fact that Listen to Your Mother is just about 3 hours away.

I'm not really nervous. I love an audience! But I am excited in a "maybe I need a pre-show glass of wine" sort of way. I spent the morning getting things ready:

Clothes for Robbie's school program tonight...(his clothes, not mine)...CHECK.

E-mail directions to the theatre to my dad...(because apparently he doesn't have Google)...CHECK.

Steal Annie's makeup...(because I don't really own any)...CHECK.

Curling iron...CHECK

New shoes that might add a hint of unwelcome realism to my piece if I'm not careful...CHECK.

Two versions of my outfit...(because I still don't know what to wear)...CHECK.

Jewelry...CHECK.

Deodorant...CHECK.

Extra underwear...(Hey! You never know...)...CHECK.

I want to text Mike and tell him not to bring me flowers or anything. But I'm afraid he'll say he wasn't planning to bring me flowers or anything and then I might be disappointed.

I'm a little embarrassed that the pre-show slideshow will display me in varying degrees of fatness. "Oh look, there's skinny (skinnier) Amy." "Oh, there you are...what happened to you?!" But so proud that my beautiful kids and my wonderful mom will also grace the screen with me.

I'm humbled by the friends who purchased tickets and are coming to the show to hear me read my piece.

Mostly, I'm just so honored to be part of this cast. These women have stories to tell -- amazing stories and ordinary stories told in amazing ways.  

Tastes that take me home -- #giveaway

I grew up, mostly, in Dayton, Ohio. It's not too far from my now common-law-hometown of Indianapolis, which is nice because that means I get back there often enough to satisfy a few hometown cravings:

• Marion's Pizza -- the deluxe version with a deluxe salad on the side. The pizza crust is thin and crispy and delicious. The salad has tiny, little cubes of mozzarella and green olives, along with all the other salad usuals. It's the olives that make it fantastic!
• Super Subby's -- I order one of three things at Subby's. Turkey on wheat with provolone and light mayo. Tuna salad on wheat with lettuce and tomato. Or Subby's chili with mushrooms and provolone. I got hooked on that cup of deliciousness when I was working into the wee hours of the morning at Adventure Golf.
• UDF Cherry Cordial Ice Cream -- This is the one item for which I will break my "no buying food from a gas station" rule. It's pink heaven with chocolate pieces in a bowl.
• Esther Price Candies -- Esther Price was my first taste of GOOD chocolate. It will always hold a special place in my heart. 

The only problem is that in order to enjoy these treats, I have to actually go to Dayton to get them.

Fortunately, there is one more hometown food that I like and can get anytime I want to. That would be Mikesell's potato chips and pretzels. I get those right in my own grocery store. My favorites are the Groovy Chips and the Baked Pretzel Rods. So when the PR peo -- WAIT! This just in! You can buy Mikesell's and Esther Price Chocolate Covered Potato Chips! Do I hear Mother's Day calling?!...but I digress...

 
As I was saying, when the PR people for Mikesell's contacted me to ask if I would like to receive some samples of Mikesell's newest snacks, it didn't take me long to say "sign me up!"

What I received was a box containing samples of three products:

• Kettle-cooked Sour Cream & Onion chips -- Quite tasty. I'm not usually a fan of the onion part of sour cream and onion chip, but the flavor of these was mild enough to be enjoyable. The chip itself was thick and nicely fried.
  
• Kettle-cooked Bold Jamaican Jerk chips -- Mike tried these and liked them (I was too chicken.) He said they were "Hot. Unexpectedly hot, but the burn died down quickly.
  
• Cinnamon Toast Puffcorn -- These were not our favorite. The cinnamon came through nicely, but we weren't fans of the texture. However, if you like the Taco Bell cinnamon crisps, these would be a good snack for you.   

And now here's the part you've been waiting for...you can win a three-month supply* of Mikesell's snacks -- the three I listed above and other Mikesell's snacks. 


* Please note: I'm not sure if these Mikesell's people have ever met a teenage boy. So let the caveat emptor say that one person's three-month supply may only last a week in someone else's house. 

To enter to win the free prize pack of snack sensations, leave a comment on this blog post (which means if you are reading this on Facebook, you need to click through and leave your comment on the actual post) answering the question below:

What kind of chip person are you? Regular? Baked? Kettle-cooked? Flavored? If you're more of a pretzel person, you can let me know that too.  

Also, if you are reading this on Facebook, check out the Mikesell's Facebook page too.  

I will draw a winner using Random.org on Saturday, May 4 at 9pm EDT. The winner will be announced here and on the 4th Frog Facebook page. The hungry winner will have 48 hours to respond or another winner will be chosen.
 
Giveaway open to U.S. residents ages 18 and up only. 

(Please excuse the wonky formatting on this post. I've been messing with the code to fix it and I'm just calling it "good enough.")

Ya buncha bed makers, you

I asked one simple question on the 4th Frog Facebook page the other day:

How many of you make your bed every morning, or almost every morning?

Whoa! I had no idea how many people would take the time to answer. To date, 123 people have responded (that's a lot for my page). Of those 123, I would say everyone except about 5 people make their bed every day or almost every day. 

For realz? With hospital corners and everything? 

It probably won't surprise you that I am not a bed maker. There are several reasons why I don't feel compelled to tidy up my sleep space. 

1. Once I'm up, I hit the ground running and just don't have (or take) the time to make the bed.
2. I have a king size bed and making it amounts to an aerobic workout, which I try to avoid at all costs.
3. Why make it when I'm just going to get back in it in 18 hours and mess it up again?

In fact, the only time I do make my bed is when I'm cleaning the bedroom so I have a flat surface to put all the junk that's cluttering the floor. 

When I was in college, I kind of made my bed most mornings. I lived in a sorority house (Ahoy there, Delta Gammas!) and we all slept upstairs in one big dormitory filled with bunk beds. During rush week and when talking to parents we referred to it as an "open air dorm." But really, it was a cold dorm -- made that way because the windows were kept open all the time to air out the germs that could collect when 70 girls were sleeping in one room. If you didn't at least pull the covers up over the mattress and your pillow in the morning, you could be in for a very cold welcome when you got back in bed at night.

That's probably why, even today, I like climbing into a bed with cold sheets and pillowcases. I don't like it to stay cold, but I like to start out that way.

Some people in my unscientific Facebook poll said they only make their beds on the weekends. What I want to know is why? The weekends are "off-duty" time, although I do tackle several other chores over the weekend.

But all you bed makers have gotten me thinking. Maybe I'll make my bed today. Or maybe I'll just climb back in it and take a nap.

In the face of tragedy then and now

I didn't know anything about the explosions at the Boston Marathon until sometime after 4pm yesterday when Charlie was watching ESPN. I knew it had to be big if ESPN was reporting a news story that was suddenly only tangentially related to sports. I sat on the couch, watching the coverage, seeing for the 20th time the old man runner in the red shirt stumble and fall to the ground as the explosion rocked the crowd just a few yards from him. I watched the coverage for maybe 30 or 40 minutes before it dawned on me that Robbie and Charlie were watching along with Mike and me.

Robbie asked what happened. We told him there was an explosion. Charlie said it was a bomb and I immediately wanted to protect them both from that thought. Explosion, while bad enough, didn't seem to carry with it the essence of evil that the word "bomb" did. We gathered, held hands and said a "Hail Mary" for those injured and killed. I texted Annie and asked her to say a prayer too. Then I turned off the television, told the kids to do their homework, and went about making dinner.

Nearly 12 years ago, in 2001, we watched on the morning news as the Twin Towers and thousands of lives were sacrificed in New York City. Annie was at preschool. Charlie was only 2 and played with toys as Mike and I sat and watched the events unfold. After about an hour or so, I got up and drove to pick Annie up from preschool. I felt an urgency that we should all be together. We watched hours of coverage, switching to Barney and Madeline videos when it seemed that little eyes and ears were getting too many details, or when Mike and I just had absorbed more than we could handle.

Yesterday as I turned off the TV, I wondered what was best to do. Turn off the television and protect my kids from the day's terrible events? Or leave it on and help them be informed about their world? I didn't worry about how Annie would handle it. But Charlie can be pretty sensitive and I wasn't sure that Robbie would be able to understand what was happening in perspective to his own bubbled life. It turns out we did a little of both. After dinner we watched a little bit of the coverage. And then we turned on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. There was something therapeutic about watching a show where I knew the good guys were going to win in the end.

We had talked some at dinner about what had happened. And then when I was tucking Robbie into bed, we prayed again for everyone in Boston who was hurt.

"Why would someone just go put a bomb in a place where there were people?," Robbie asked after the prayer was over.

"I think he must have a lot of hate in his heart," I told him.

"I know how that hate might have gotten in his heart," Robbie said. "Maybe he is in school and kids are mean to him and that's why he has hate." Whoa. Deep breath here and a slight prayer that this was an observation, not an empathetic sentiment.

"Maybe," I said. "You know the best way to help people get rid of hateful hearts?," I asked him. "You give them lots of love, even when it feels like you don't want to. We show people God's love and hopefully one day, they open their hearts to that love and have lots of love to share." That seemed to be enough for him. He fell asleep with no more questions.

I'm sure that the questions won't end there, though I'm not sure I will have sufficient answers. It was so much easier 12 years ago to protect my kids by simply turning on Barney. I didn't have to think about how they would be part of that big, ugly, complicated world someday. But now -- as they are all in double digits -- I remind myself that they ARE part of that world. And I'm left wondering how best to help them live and love in it.

Yes Mom, I was listening.

Tonight is the first rehearsal for the event that will give me my 4-1/2 minutes of fame, "Listen to Your Mother." To prove that I can walk the talk, and that I did indeed listen to my mother, here are 10 things I learned from my own mom:

1. If there is a business that never seems to have any customers, yet has been in business for a really long time, it's probably a front for drugs.


2. When I don't want to go to church, I just have to ask myself "Do you think Jesus wanted to climb up on that cross and die for you?"


3. Almost anything can be fixed with a paper clip and a rubber band.


4. When beginning a test, say a quick prayer to St. John Chrysostom. Apparently he is the patron saint of smart people.


5. I'm not going to be happy until somebody ends up crying.


6. When I can make a free throw while holding a bag of groceries in one hand, I will belong to the "cool mom" group.


7. Real moms buy sandwich bags that fold over, not zip; orange juice concentrate; and Nestle Quik.


8. If you see some cute home decor at the store, don't bother buying it because you can just make it yourself. You probably won't get around to making it, but you could.


9. Should the need arise, Serenity brand protection is the best for a leaky bladder.


10. If your kid says his arm is broken, it probably is. However, you can wait a day or two to have it checked out just to be sure.

Confession: I must not have listened that closely because I could only come up with 8 things and I had to call my sister to help me recall the last two.


Listen to Your Mother Indianapolis is Thursday, May 2.
Get your tickets today! (Really -- prices go up on April 15.)

You can read what some of my fellow cast members have learned from their mothers too:


Hillary at Midwest Berliners 
Robyn at Hollow Tree Ventures