At long last! #LTYM videos are up!

On May 2 of this year, I had the great honor of being part of the inaugural "Listen to Your Mother" cast in Indianapolis. On May 3, I was more than ready for the videos of the show to be uploaded to You Tube. Imagine my disappointment when I found out the videos wouldn't be posted until sometime this summer. Well, folks, SOMETIME is NOW!

You can watch the entire "Listen to Your Mother -- Indianapolis" on You Tube. Do it tonight. Pop some popcorn, pour yourself a favorite beverage, grab some tissues, get ready to laugh and have a grand old time watching the show. Seriously, this group of women is smart, honest, talented, funny.

If you just can't wait, maybe you could watch this video, you know, kind of like a trailer.

Of course, that was me. Hey, it IS my blog. I didn't actually hate watching myself, although I have definitely decided to cut my hair short again now that I see it in front of me. And that blouse? The one that my mother said before the show that she didn't like? Yeah, it's going in the Goodwill pile. Hello, saggy boobs!

But on the whole, I'm proud of that moment in my life. Thanks for sharing it with me.

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. 

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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.)