And the winner of TMI Mom: Oversharing My Life is...

Tracy! Congratulations.

Random.org selected the winner since I could not possibly choose from the stories.

For those of you who would like to purchase a copy, you can go here or here.

Check me out with the author Heather Smith Davis and her editor Mari Farthing.

Listen to Your Mother Show: These are my people

We send our stories into a theater packed with 400 bodies. That's 800 ears.  We send our stories into a social media project that will spread our stories to more bodies, more ears.

We can't take them back.

The house lights go up, but there is a strange combination of stage lights still shining that leave much of the crowd in the dark--at least from my view point. Applause fades to giddy conversations as cast members reunite with their people.

I stand alone onstage, peering into the gloomy abyss.

Where are my people?

A silhouette waves, and I think it's one of my tribe.  The cast member in front of me waves back.

Where are my people?  They were coming... right?

Loneliness sweeps over me as the waves of emotions the show tossed about go out to sea and come back for me--pulling me into a place that churns like a sea monster.

Then I take a deep breath.  I'm being silly. A saying drifts across my psyche: "If your ship doesn't come in, go out to meet it."

Right. Even if my people aren't here, I have a whole new sisterhood in the inaugural cast of Oklahoma City's Listen to Your Mother show. And these amazing women and man deserve to be congratulated.

I step off the stage and into this new world where everyone knows my story.

My eyes adjust to the light.  I see them.  I hear others call my name. 

I am not alone.  I never was. 

That's the thing with sisterhoods.

Some you grow up with.

childhood friends Tina and Ange--and our mommas--at the show

Some you help create.

my Inklings at Christmas--didn't get a pic after show!

Some you find through other people.

Tina, moi, Shannon, Kellie, Ange

Ashley and Jennifer at Kentucky Derby party. (They didn't wear the hats to the show.)

And some you share your soul onstage with.

2013 cast of Oklahoma City's Listen to Your Mother show (photo by Macy Fitzgerald)

Just when I feel lost at sea, my family--the ones I'm related to and the ones I've adopted--buoy me.

my hubby and kids at after-party

my mother-in-law, mom, and dad at after-party

They always do.

Even if I can't see them doing it.

Our cast was warned about the "me too" moments when strangers approach post-show and connect to your story.  I really didn't experience that.  However, I did catch people watching me, and when I looked their ways, they avoided me.  Now I know why. Since that day, I've heard from two people who told me my story helped women who were still so raw that they couldn't tell me personally.

I didn't share my secrets in vain. My story is a letter in a bottle tossed into the sea meant to be found by someone I may never meet.

That's why I did Listen to Your Mother.

Because, sometimes, it's not about me having a buoy. It's about me being the buoy.

Book Giveaway: TMI MOM by Heather Davis

If you liked Jenni McCarthy's Belly Laughs, you'll love TMI Mom: Oversharing My Life by Heather Davis.

It's fricking hilarious.

It's perfect for mommas.  

Short Chapters
Are you reading more Harold and the Purple Crayon than Fifty Shades of Grey these days? This book is for you. The pacing is quick and snappy. In the time it takes you to spray stain remover on muddy play clothes and let it set before washing, you can read a chapter. The chapter length is also great for carpooling.  While you're waiting in the car to collect your tot/tike/teen from an activity, you can read a chapter and then greet your offspring with a big smile on your face.

Kindred Spirit
Someone else knows. You're not alone in this mommy gig. Maybe you've never peed in the shower, but you can certainly identify with hiding from the wee ones when you want to have a phone conversation. And you probably understand the value of paying a babysitter to go on a date--only to end up at "Hellmart."

Heather Davis tells true stories about family life. Other people run out of clean drinking glasses.  Other moms have mommas who question the propriety of their undergarment choices. It's comforting to know someone else walks in momma shoes.

Guaranteed Laughs
Read with caution. Choose reading places wisely. I enjoy Heather's blog at Minivan Momma, but I wasn't prepared for the laugh snorts in store for me.  On more than one occasion, I nearly woke my family from laughing so hard.

This book is about full disclosure. I giggled through her conversations with her editor in notes. Don't you wonder what sort of conversations go into creating a book? I love the insider feeling of reading their comments in parenthetical.

Free!
Here's your chance to read it for free.  From one momma to another, I'd like to give you an autographed copy. Give it to another momma. Give it to your momma.

How do I get this book?
Simply comment on this post by telling me something about yo' momma.

Contest ends Wednesday, May 8.

That Show I'm Going to Be In

The outpouring of support from friends and family for making Oklahoma City's inaugural Listen to Your Mother Show has been tremendous.

Still, a lot of people have never heard of it.

Ann Imig, the head momma herself talks about it here:


It's an easy concept that creates a beautiful and authentic experience.

As I sat in a hair salon with foil in my hair and showed YouTube videos of past performances from my iPad, I realized that that was the true essence of the show. Women hanging out and sharing stories.

Two of our directors were in the Northwest Arkansas show last year.

Proceed with caution: After you watch the videos, you may have the compulsion to share them with others.

Heather Davis talks about unmentionables hair accessories.


Misti Prior talks about pretending to be Mother Teresa.


Today, the website introduced moi. 

Here's a teaser that shows the rest of our cast.  Hint: I'm the toothless one.


10% of proceeds benefits Infant Crisis Services in OKC. We're also accepting diaper donations at the door. Tickets are still available. You can order yours here.

Bring some Huggies and someone to hug. It's going to be that kind of afternoon.

Stress Awareness Day

When it comes to being organized, I'm like one of those sad contestants on a reality show who can't sing/dance/live in reality. No one needs to tell me I can't carry a tune in a bucket, but I sometimes have delusions of grandeur when it comes to organizational skills.

I can happily spend hours in The Container Store...and not buy a thing. Pinterest has sucked hours of my life providing ideas to better manage my time.  Some of the first magazine articles I ever read were how to be organized and maximize efficiency, and I still buy magazines if one article tempts me with a clever way to get my life in order.

But life isn't easier. 

Because no matter how many lists I make, or calendars I color code, or bags I pack carefully, someone (Garrett) will forget to drop off soccer shoes and clean socks with the child.  And someone will demand to be lugged around the house (Alexandra).  And someone will suddenly become incapable of going into a room by himself and grabbing his stuff (Max). And I add plenty to my own misery as well. "The best laid plans of mice and men...."

Chaos causes me stress.

I once had a ceremony on my piano.  I used this method of relaxation from the time I was in sixth grade until my piano had too many hands on it.

Since then, I've experimented. Exercise is calming, but that's one more thing to schedule.  I've fed the stress with an old favorite: brownies and milk. Then I evolved to red wine and Hershey's kisses. I sometimes enjoy tea and a scone (or four). Nothing works well.

Recently, I discovered the best method to de-stress doesn't involve fancy highlighters or  exercise equipment or even a musical instrument.

I breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

Simple.

Sometimes I forget, but the body has a way of reminding me.

In. Out. In. Out.

Don't you feel better already?

If breathing doesn't relax you, bloggers are sharing ideas on how to take away the stress over at Oklahoma Women Bloggers.

Can I get a rubber eraser app?

My kids are obsessed with technology. They play on the computer. They play on the iPhone. They play on the iPad.  The simplest pieces of plastic transform into pretend electronic gadgets.

Kids. How do they get these ideas?

According to Kelly McDonald, three marriage deal breakers of the 1960s were
1.  different race
2.  different religion
3.  inability to provide financially

Today marriage deal breakers are
1. lack of hygiene
2. talking about exes
3. constantly on phone or other mobile device.

Garret teased me that I'd be out of the running for marriage because of the last one.

What?  Me?

He wasn't kidding.

Would they make the cut in 2013?

I'm a part-time work-at-home mom.  I get the pleasure of being with my kids several days a week. But I still get emails from work.  And I check the messages. I also am a writer, and doing so involves computers. But it's not just work that occupies my techy-time. I make grocery lists. I take pictures.  I research recipes and child-friendly projects, and...and...

...they don't know that. They just see me with my hands wrapped around a hunk of technology.

McDonald mentioned that Generation Z, which apparently doesn't even encompass my little ones (there's no name for them yet), has fewer verbal skills than previous generations.

Why?

They text. They Facebook. They Instant Message. They don't talk on the phone.

Am I contributing to the death of the spoken language?

I don't want my children to think of me with my nose in a gadget. I want them to think of me looking in their eyes, singing songs, playing piano, 

building cardboard spaceships, reading books,

 

playing sports, 

 

and picking "flowers."

I want them to remember that I loved them enough to model love and companionship and... verbal skills.

Now, more than ever, I'm making a conscious effort to go back to the basics. Like a rubber eraser. Maybe I'll start by writing notes on paper.  

Technology is a good thing.  But so are the basics. Face to face. You and me, baby.

My friend Lisa Marotta has a call to action on this topic.  I'm not ready for the power grid to go down completely, but I do plan to power off more often.

Oklahoma Women Bloggers handed out virtual rubber erasers this week. Skedaddle on over to see what other bloggers are erasing.

Cheer for Your Team

I'm not very good at the preschool athletic mentality. 
1.  Every kid is not the Most Valuable Player.
2.  Each game should have a winner and a loser.

That's life. 

Don't get me wrong. Winning isn't everything, but losing doesn't mean hanging up your sneakers, either.  When you fall, brush yourself off, quit your crying, and get back in the game. It's important to always do your personal best because your only real competition is yourself.

I was a cheerleader--the kind that believed more in the job than the uniform.  I disdain the "spirit leaders" who leave when rain or sleet falls from the sky. If the team can still play, then they can still cheer.

12th grade: front and center in a parka in the pouring rain

After a few adult beverages, I'm willing to dance my high school's fight song.

Go Bulldogs!

 

Last month,  I put my dormant cheer skills to use and cheered myself on through my own special version of March Madness.

Here are the rules: If a writing opportunity presented itself, I must enter the competition.

Even if I doubted my abilities--especially so--I must take action. With failure comes wisdom. With wisdom comes success.

Want to know how the brackets turned out?

I submitted my essays to two Listen to Your Mother shows.  Instead of submitting to one show, I embraced March Madness and submitted to two.

Two! Two! We want two!

And, well, you know how that turned out. Read about it here and here.

Gooooo team!

Then, I tried Brenda Drake's agent contest.  My cheerleader was still asleep when I dragged myself out of bed to submit early in the morning.  Right before I pushed send on my carefully written entry of my novel's first 250 words and 35-word pitch, I doubted myself.  I changed the pitch.

I did not make the next round.

That's all right. That's okay. We're gonna win another day!

Then another opportunity presented itself. Mini Vaughn, one of the slush zombies for the contest, volunteered to critique the pitches on her blog Dirty Silly Things.  I thought, "Oh my. I can't put myself out there and face rejection again. It's so public. She even says something about spanking us and making it hurt."  *Blushes* 

My cheerleader gave me a high-kick in the butt.  

Be aggressive! B-E Aggressive! B-E- A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E! Be aggressive! B-E aggressive!

Because she was an obnoxiously perky, insistent little inner cheerleader, I not only sent the rejected logline, but I also submitted the one I'd planned to send. If I was going to get a smackdown, I might as well really feel the pain, right?

The critique wasn't painful at all. She thought the original pitch was "fantastic." Lesson learned.  My biggest opponent is self-doubt. 

Defense! (clap, clap) Defense! (clap, clap)

Over the month, I had a couple of contest triumphs and forfeited one opportunity. The point is that I put myself in the game.

I'm gearing up for submitting my freshly revised novel to agents. I've listened to agents who seemed excited about the story but rejected it. I've rewritten the novel and improved my game. 

First (clap) and ten! Go! Fight! Win!

Why compete? Because someone has to win.  Why can't it be me?  Or you?

  Dribble it! Pass it! (clap) We want a basket!

Have you stepped outside your comfort zone lately? What would you like to achieve?  

Go for it!

Listen to your personal cheerleader and take the challenge. Let me know what it is.

I'm already waggling my spirit fingers for you.