Monday, April 22, 2013

I just shipped my pants

I love the internet...

First impressions

I attended the first read-through for Listen to Your Mother Show last night. What a phenomenal group of women adding their voices to the motherhood composite.

They were funny, touching, sad, brave, clever and opened my eyes to the many ways this one theme is interpreted. I? On the other hand? Introduced myself as mildly hung over due to a whopping three glasses of wine at the kids' school auction the night before.

Winning first impression for sure. I should write a book about how to paint a clear picture of yourself in 20 seconds or less yet somehow still not get asked to leave.

While I am playing out the theme from the light-hearted perspective of my own experience, several of these awesome gals are sharing their pasts with their own mothers as they shape their present as mothers themselves.

When we listen, we learn. What did I learn?

I learned my mom's a freaking rock star. Not that I didn't know that before, of course, but her stock rose considerably more after hearing and witnessing the effects of being raised without the kindness, affection, love, stability, care, sacrifice and commitment my own mom gave us.

While we will always tease her for her motto ("Look out for deer!" followed closely by "Look at that beautiful tree!"), I will always be grateful for the joy she planted in my heart.

And always and forever in awe of the moms who find that joy on their own and pass it on to their children bravely and with the grace and dedication of the women I met last night.

See it all here:

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Fantasy Camp

Kids have dreams. Big dreams. Dreams of playing for the NBA or singing to a packed arena or living in a mansion with their mother maid who will cook and clean for them.

As a kid, I honestly thought dreams were something that died the minute you became a grownup and had a boss and bills and car insurance. Or maybe that those dreams of our youth just morph into dreams of hoping someone will hire you and give you money to pay your bills and buy your own car that doesn't have a Lollapalooza bumper sticker on the back.

But last weekend, something magnificent happened.

After more than two years of unconsciously dreaming and very consciously working, I discovered that grownups can have dreams too. Better yet? They can even come true.

Maybe the dreams are for knees that don't creak and shoulders that don't crack or maybe to sing alone in a shower where no one will walk in and ask you to keep it down or maybe it still involves a wife maid who will cook and clean.

For me the dreams of my youth never really left; the dream of conceiving and creating and sharing a story... set to music with a full band, two moving spots and a brilliant cast, of course. Because every story is more fun when it is sung.

Last weekend, my college roomie and I produced, directed (mostly me) and co-starred (mostly her - I just ran the mic out to them a couple of times) in a musical we co-wrote: "Mother%$!#Hood: From A to Xanax." On a real stage, with a real paying audience, who really enjoyed it.

It was like fantasy camp for the theatre geek. Equivalent to, let's say, having Bill Self call and offer to let you coach the next game. And then winning it.

See more and like it here:

Stay tuned for where this dream leads and remember that dreams might change, they may get buried, they may take a while to come true, but they can never die.