Listen to Your Mother: In the Moment

It’s been a little over a week since I stood on stage at Milwaukee’s Listen to Your Mother Show. It was a day full of excitement and nerves and appreciation for the women around me. I’ll post a video of me reading my piece eventually. Until then, there’s this. 

Before

In a dance room turned dressing room, ladies lean over a barre towards mirrors. Primping. Preparing. Mascara and lipstick. Then me. And, my hair. Hot-rolled and set for too long, it hangs and then flips and threatens to behave all Medusa-like, minus the snaky tongues.

This would not be good for pictures.

I fall to the familiar pony tail and pity the photographer who tries hard with small talk to catch me unawares. He does not know my curse with the camera: sleepy eyes, ridiculous smile or none at all. Remember that family photo when I was fifteen? I do: heavy lids, drunken grin. My mother and sister and I never laughed so hard, that cathartic low-in-the-throat giggle that rose to guffaw then fell into tears. I think of this as I look away from the camera, try to summon that silliness, look back and smile again. It’s all I can do to ignore the click-click-click of the shutter.

He says he got a few good ones, I thank him and immediately text my sister, The worst is over. 

During

The curtain closed, we take our seats on stage and hear the audience taking theirs. Conversations rise in waves just beyond us; nothing is decipherable. I reapply lipstick I’ve smuggled in–once, twice, until finally I realize, like my hair, they won’t be studying my lips. They’ll be listening.

Then, as theater lights go down and stage lights go up, I think of my husband, my kids, the friend I have not seen for months. When my name is called, I am grateful I remember how to breathe, to walk, to read. I force myself to slow down. Because this moment, it’s important.

My mother, I say. My son. . . . my daughter. . . . and me.

After

Someone tells me that my husband beamed while I was on stage, and I feel a lump in my throat. I remember how my son’s chest puffed with pride in the moments after the show and my daughter looked at me with a new expression. Not because I was some superstar now, but because I, who am quiet and introspective much of the time, pushed aside the curtain for a moment and told my story about the time I caught my mother unawares, and how that stuck with me. That moment retold to family and friends and to that one woman whose feet must have tingled and heart surely pounded as she whispered, Yes. Me too

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Thanks to my friend Sarah Nielsen for taking these cool shots.

Anticipation (LTYM: Four Days and Counting)

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Listen To Your Mother Milwaukee Venue: Wehr Hall, Alverno College
(photo credit: Alexandra Rosas)

I’ll be wearing my mother’s jewelry on Sunday when I read my piece for Listen To Your Mother. Necklace, earrings, and a ring that reflects like a tiny disco ball (watch out), her jewelry is way outside my boundaries of glam; she always leaned towards the more fancy side of things. Still, it’s fitting.

Hope to see you there.

Listen To Your Mother Milwaukee
Alverno College’s Wehr Hall
4100 West Morgan Avenue
Milwaukee, WI 53215

Click here for Tickets, or purchase them at the door (cash only).

Taking the stage.

imageLast Sunday afternoon, I drove the short distance from my home to the second rehearsal for the Listen to Your Mother Milwaukee Show. And then, I sat in the car for a good five minutes.

I re-read my essay out loud. Watched folks coming and going through the parking garage. Hoped everyone thought I was talking into my blue tooth on some very important phone call instead of mumbling to myself.

I took a deep breath.
I said a prayer.
I opened the car door and went inside.

I am nervous. I’ve read my work in front of friends and family before. Even this particular story isn’t entirely new. Still, there’s something different in the idea of taking the stage. Under the lights. In front of a microphone. But sitting around the table with the other women (who are likely as nervous as me), I heard exactly what I needed.

Alexandra Rosas, one of the co-producers of the show, opened the rehearsal with a pep talk of why Listen to Your Mother is so important. This show is about regular people–your friend, your neighbor, that woman at the grocery store whom you’ve never met in person but you see every Saturday afternoon–sharing stories about what it takes to be a mother, love a mother, honor a mother. And, as Alexandra so aptly said, it’s about people learning how much more they are capable of.

It’s about courage.

Courage to recognize your story.
To write it down.
To share it with someone new in a way that may be entirely unfamiliar but connects us just the same.

On April 27th at 3pm, we take the stage. You should come. If not to the show in Milwaukee then to the show in your area. It’s almost guaranteed you’ll hear something that strikes a chord, and you might even be inspired to write a story of your own.

The cast of Listen to Your Mother Milwaukee 2014.
The cast of Listen to Your Mother Milwaukee 2014.

You can buy your tickets HERE.

10% of the proceeds go to IMPACT, an organization offering services that “restore the health and productivity of individuals, organizations and workplaces leading to an improved quality of life for our entire community.”