Song for a fifth child

Okay, I didn't plan on doing another posting on the amazing Listen to Your Mother Show that I was part of last Thursday (I've already blogged about it twice), but a little discovery prompted this post.

I'm still a little in awe at the whole thing. I'm so honored to have been included in it. I was nervous, but I wasn't. I felt a little inferior with all these other skinny, gorgeous mothers seated near me, but as it got closer to go-time for me, I thought "I got this." And everyone in the group is so warm and friendly and welcoming.

It was so much more fun reading it to an audience than reading it to myself or even reading it at my audition. This time there were these sounds -- this feedback and interaction -- and it was thrilling.

Memorial Opera House, Valparaiso, Indiana. Photo by Stephanie Precourt.

As I was introduced, Stephanie mentioned that I was the mother of five boys. From the audience I heard sighs. I'd like to think they were sighs of sympathy or admiration. Maybe they were more like gasps of disbelief accompanied by head-shaking and eye rolling. :) Whatever it was, it fueled me to get up there and confidently read my piece.

At one point, I sang a couple lines. And there was more audience feedback. I heard sort of an "Awww..." in unison as I finished up.

I fretted over that singing bit. I can't sing. I know I can't. But that was kind of the point of that portion of the story - to sing to your kids no matter how awful you sound. I know I sound way more like Edith Bunker than Adele. My kids know it, too, and they remind me quite often (well, not that they have any idea who Edith Bunker is, but they KNOW I sound nothing like Adele.)

I won't share the entire piece as the video of the show will be coming in the near future, but the part I sang was this:

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'til tomorrow
For children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow 
So, quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep 
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep


Does it sound familiar? My mom used to sing that to us when we were little. It was on a plaque she had hanging in our house and she had a little melody that went with it. And it's one of my favorite childhood memories - mom in her chair, me in her lap, her signing those words.

I just decided to take a look for the author. I don't know why I didn't look further before. I have the full poem printed and taped by my computer, but it says "Author Unknown" at the end. Guess what I discovered, thanks to Google?

The poem was written by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton. It was published in 1958 in Ladies' Home Journal. And guess what the title was? It WASN'T "Babies Don't Keep!"

It was "Song For a Fifth Child." Could it have been any more appropriate for me -- a mom of five boys -- to be reading, I mean, singing that at Listen To Your Mother???

Signs

On a day when you're preparing to be on stage in front of about 350 people, you want things to go smoothly. But, really...things rarely go super smooth. Life always seems more like a Clark Griswold movie or a Saturday Night Live skit around here. On Thursday, things just didn't seem to be in my favor.

After the kids went off to school, I noticed one had left his folder in the middle of the dining room table.

I walked in to the nail salon and it was packed! Major delay.

I'd found a dress to wear, but woke up with a HUGE chest zit.

Running late from the mani/pedi, didn't get a chance to eat before heading out.

Heading into the bathroom to do my hair, I realize that my curling iron got turned off and was ice cold!

Underestimated the length of my dress. I had thought knee highs would work. Ummm....no! Detour to Walgreens for panty hose...none my size. Ended up going bare-legged.

Watched a 3-car fender bender happen right in front of me on Route 30. Had it not been for my catlike reflexes, I'd have been car #4 in that chain!

Went to sign into my blog, transposed a couple letters and it took me here to ArmegeddonOnline. That's not the kind of sign you want on a day like this. Totally gave me a good laugh, though.

But, once I got to the Memorial Opera House, I felt calm. I watched each reader before me get up there and do her thing. And I did mine. And it flowed so well and it seemed like it was over in an instant, but I sure enjoyed it while it lasted.

Here's a pic of our awesome cast by Beth Fletcher Photography.

Ditto

Last night I had the privilege of being part of an awesome show called Listen To Your Mother. The show, which features local writers/bloggers/moms reading about their mothering journeys, is in it's 3rd year and hit 10 cities this year! I was lucky enough to be one of the readers. It was my first time up on a stage like that - ever. I've spoken in front of groups before, but not this big. The show was sold out and I smiled big when I found out that the VERY last ticket was purchased by my big brother!

Much to my surpise, my jokester brother, who started out the night saying, "OMG, it's like a chic flick, but LIVE!" really enjoyed it and said he'd like to take my sister-in-law with him to see it next year. After the show, we kind of made a receiving line in the lobby and many from the audience stopped to say a few words to us on their way out. I was also surprised that so many men in the audience stopped to compliment me on my piece and say that they appreciated hearing it. That was nice.

I'll have to get around to posting more on the show later, but for now let me just say that my mom - who rarely makes it out anymore - was there for the show. That is a major miracle! She said that being there was the best Mother's Day gift she could ask for. Ditto. Her being there was the ultimate gift for me.

And would you just look at all these hot mamas! :)

Update!!!! Here's the video of my reading at Northwest Indiana's Listen To Your Mother 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvgeZw4o0HI&feature=BFa&list=UURBcgEjka1hLBgCeglpEgrw

Showtime!

I'm a little jittery and giddy at the same time. Tonight I'm going to be in a show called Listen To Your Mother at the Memorial Opera House in Valparaiso. I will be one of 14 women reading about the journey of motherhood and I'm really stoked, but getting a bit nervous. The show is sold out. That's a lot of people to picture in their underwear. Ha! Ha!

I hadn't really thought I was nervous about it, at first. My older sister asked if it would make me nervous if she came to the show. And last time I saw my oldest brother, he said, "So are you nervous about getting up there in front of everyone?" So, the talk about being nervous I guess has made me a little nervous. And the show SOLD OUT this week. Guess who bought that very last ticket? My big brother. :)

I'm also so stressed as my book deadline approaches. And I have to be sure not to let all of that envelop me. There's a lot going on for others in the household. My husband had an important event to prepare for. And my oldest is finishing up his high school career, with finals next week and graduation the following week. And there's all the day to day mom stuff going on and field trips and picnics and luncheons and housework.

So, I'm going to have a little lunch -- hubby is making steak and eggs and the grill for me -- and then go for my yearly spring pedi and I'm going to splurge and get my nails done, too. And make up my mind about what I'm going to wear. And enjoy the day!

Getting to know my subjects for just a little while

From the time I could hold a pencil and put sentences together, I was writing. I was writing poetry and short stories and plays. I always loved sharing stories or making up stories. When I was very young I thought maybe I'd grow up to one day be a Lois Lane, chasing the latest unfolding events and reporting the news. Later I wanted to be a novelist. I ended up being a writer, but not in either of the capacities I thought I would.

Although I did writing before I had kids, it wasn't until they were born that I actually published something I was paid for. I was writing little bits of information for a parenting magazine. It was thrilling to write content for a magazine that I actually enjoyed reading. That was over a dozen years ago and I haven't stopped writing since. Every month (almost every week) since then I've had a byline show up somewhere. I write about so many interesting topics, do a lot of research and learn a lot of new things. It's something I truly enjoy. No two days are ever the same. I've written for magazines, newspapers, newsletters, blogs, websites, contributed to books and written books of my own. Much of my day is spent in my home office (a.k.a. my computer armoire in the corner of my dining room) questioning people for information by e-mail and doing interviews by phone. It's always nice to get out from time to time to do a face to face interview. Those are so different and I get so much more out of them. I love getting to know someone, however briefly, and learn about their life. I just find such pleasure in listening to people and hearing their histories.

Those face to face interviews stick with you longer than those phone versions where you multi-task by typing as they talk and often never even know what the person on the other end looks like. They don't know if you're completely engrossed in their conversation or if you're peering out the window and folding laundry and they spill things out. Regardless of what they are sharing with you, it's just not the same. It's not as personal.

Through the years I've talked to people about sensitive subjects. They've answered questions that were hard for them to talk about. It's a privilege to be someone they open up to about such things. I've had many statements told to me off the record - things they didn't necessarily want to see put in print but wanted to discuss or get off their chest. I remember a man once telling me that he had a son he hadn't seen since he was a baby and the regrets he had in not being part of his life. I recently talked to man who went off subject and started talking about the wife he'd lost a few years ago and how much he missed her. It had nothing to do with the interview. I don't know what made him bring it up, but he did and I listened and a watched his face as he talked still full of pain from a loss long ago. Sometimes my subjects inadvertently give bits of wisdom and advice that I very much value. And sometimes it's hard to get to know them very briefly, hear so much about them and their lives and then move on never to have contact again.

Cuddling, comedy and a pocket of peace at the drive in

Last night we went to the drive in movie. We do that a few times a year and I love the family time together. We have a drive-in, the 49-er, about 40 minutes from our house, so it's a long night when we do go - and we usually leave after the first movie, even though admission always covers a double feature. In the summer months, when the sun isn't going down until after 8:30, the first movie may not start until 9:00, then a brief intermission before movie #2 and it's 1 a.m. before you're out the door. So, we usually leave after movie #1 and still don't get home sometimes until Midnight. Just about everyone is sound asleep by the time you get home and you're prodding kids to wake them up or letting them hop on piggy-back to get them to the porch because their shoes are off.

We have a huge conversion van that my husband drives and we take that to the drive in. We back in and open the back doors. We place a couple folding chairs in front and my husband made a special drive in seat out of the bench seat from a car. He welded something onto it so that when we go to the movies he just hooks it onto the hitch and when we get there he unfolds it and we have seating for a one or two more. Then the third row seating is the floor in the back. One person can comfortably stretch out with a pillow and blanket across the width of the van. The fourth tier is the back seat of the van, which folds down into a bed. Three kids can stretch out there on their stomachs to watch the screen. Last night was a bit chilly and by the end of the night almost all of us were snuggle up with blankets inside the van looking out.

The snuggling was the best part. My youngest is 7 and the snuggle time is a rare occurrence these days. Last night he came over and snuggles up to me, pulling my arm around him. I covered us with a blanket. He pressed his head against mine. He reached his hand up to play with my hair as he used to do as a toddler. He tried to run his fingers through it, but by then the wind had it all tangled up. It was just such a nice little trip back in time to when we cuddled often and I was still the center of his world. Even if it just lasted an hour, it was so nice and it was just enough.

Our outings oddly never go smoothly. Seems like so many times we leave the house it is like a Clark Griswold adventure. Last night was chilly. It was also really, really foggy. So foggy that we couldn't make out the people on the screen. It was comical trying to figure out what was going on in the movie with just the sound and blurry blobs on a screen that was at times not even visible. The moisture from the fog left a faint mist on everything so that you felt wet. The kids stepped in every puddle instead of walking around them. The line in the concession area was a mile long. I guess it was a combination of the opening of the season and the opening night for the movie, The Avengers. But all in all, it was a fun experience -- the kind that had me looking around in the middle of it at my own family and feeling like we were in movie of the happiest kind. My hubby was close by and my boys sat next to each other without fighting, sharing candy with each other that they'd purchased with their own money. It felt wonderful. Among all the other craziness in our lives and the days being so busy, this was some much needed downtime -- a small pocket of peace -- and a reminder of what a wonderful life it is.

Little dreams

I've always had lots of vivid dreams. I must really drift off into a deep sleep in the early morning hours and I wake to the strangest dreams. Some just seem so real, like the one I had about being shot in the back as I drove away from someone with a gun. I hit the gas and was rounding a turn, then felt a warm, wet sensation on my back. I reached around and touched it and then saw the blood on my hand. I could feel it in my dream and I woke up and couldn't believe it had happened. Ever had a dream like that?

I've also had dreams that I've lost loved ones and woke up with tears streaming down my face and the thought of them no longer being in my life. And I've had dreams that people who are no longer on this earth are sitting at a table eating dinner with me or laughing and making jokes. Those are a bit freaky and a bit comforting at the same time.

Then there's the recurrent dream I have that I'm in high school and am struggling to get to a class on time and never seem to make it or that I'm at my locker needing to retrieve important papers and I can't remember the combination and the whole dream is a series of trying to get what I need and get it on time and I'm never successful. That parallels real life in a big way. I have one deadline after another.

It's interesting how dreams are linked to what is going on in your life and funny to try and interpret ones that seem so crazy and far fetched. I had a lot of intense and weird dreams as I was planning my wedding, including one that my grandfather (who has been deceased since I was a toddler) was driving a truck -- a milk truck, I think -- and I was talking to him. I vaguely remember what he looked like from some photos I've seen. In my dream, he had Jackie Gleason's face. Then I went into a Taco Bell restaurant that led to a big banquet hall and theatre in the back. There was a beauty contest going on and I guess I was supposed to pick someone out of the group to marry us. Crazy! What is a dream like that supposed to mean?

I've heard it said about dream analysis that the content of your dreams is related to something you thought about or encountered that day before you slept. Sometimes I can see the direct relation. Often not -- I doubt that the day I had that dream I was eating at Taco Bell, witnessing a beauty contest, watching the Honeymooners and thinking about a grandfather I hadn't seen since I was two-years-old.

Last night I dreamed of spiders. Yesterday my husband told me he'd seen a bunch of baby spiders making webs along the house gutters. So, that dream did make a bit of sense. Except that in my dream the house was surrounded by TONS of webs, so that we were almost in a cocoon and the spiders were gigantic man-eating creatures. I also dreamed about chocolate coconut milk after seeing a food blog recipe for Popsicles using chocolate coconut milk.

My kids now tell me in the morning when they've had a dream they can remember. I've heard some good ones about canoeing down a choppy river and about cities made out of candy. Last week my 7-year-old came up to me and said "Guess what my dream was last night? I drove an ATV all the way to Cuba and I didn't even have to stop for gas!" Okay, 'Where did that come from?,' I wonder to myself.

As I was typing this, my youngest came up to me and said, "Want to know what I had a dream of last night?" "Sure, I answer." He has no clue I'm typing about his dreams as we speak. I lean in hoping to hear some big tale about castles or animals or something really cool. He tells me, "I was a baby. I was only like one year old and I was smoking a cigarette." Oh, lovely...