Parent belts! What color are you?

 

(image credit)

WHITE Enroll your child in a preschool team sport/dance class/swimming lesson of your choosing. Your family crest shows a skinny disembodied arm swinging a racket and missing need not determine your child’s athletic fate. You must imbue your child’s crest with POTENTIAL.

YELLOW Watch your child--two heads taller than the others--score many goals and become early-adapter for 15 minutes of first practice. Learn to tie your yellow belt, securing your parenting-I’m-doing-it-so-very-right! knot.

ORANGE Watch same child refuse to play for every subsequent game. Bribe child on to field with promise of bunny snacks at half time. Child joins team of crying mouths-stuffed-with-bunnies field-nomads.

ORANGE W/STRIPIES Child needs to dump at field with no bathrooms. Weigh 5 mile jaunt to gas station plus potential shite-in-shorts vs. child becoming dumping-on-subdivision-wisp-of-tree team mascot

BLUE WITH STRIPIES After three games of child non-participation regardless of snack bribe, and complete with Saturday morning tantrum, forfeit season and receive your “no more parent fake enthusiasm” blue belt with stripies.

BLUE Graduate to athletics-denial paired with skinny disembodied arm swinging a racket family crest inevitability and acceptance.

PURPLE WITH STRIPIES Learn kindergarten team sport is recruiting members. Many of the players are in child’s class. Use friends card to lure child back into team sport/dance class/swim lessons. Kiss weekends goodbye and meet your new best friends—the other sideline sitters. They, too, ask themselves how it is their own parents got away with giving them money for a bus pass and saying “see you at dinner.”

PURPLE Child enjoys team sport! Adult pack-n-play chairs take up residence in your trunk. Practices increase to twice weekly plus show up 30 minutes early on game day.

RED WITH STRIPIE Child becomes firmly entrenched in team sport. Command new vocabulary involving “if the team plays in the rain, than you play in the rain.” Sit in the rain in parent pack-n-play eating extras-for-siblings snack bunnies.  Younger sibling plays 100 miles away at the playground with no bathroom. You can tell he has to dump.

RED NO STRIPIE Season ends!! Succumb to off-season “children must exercise” guilt and enroll in free-trial karate banking on children’s boredom due to rote commands.

BLACK STRIPIE Children love shouting YES SIR and YES MA’AM and complying to rote commands so long as they come from adults in bathrobes with bellies that are not you.

BLACK WITH MANY MANY STRIPIES Re-up after six months and two belt graduations which conveniently coincide with re-commitment dues.

BLACK WITH INFINITY XRAY SHIELDS GOOGLEPLEX STRIPIES Lack of forced musical instrument introduction doubt plagues your from karate-watching bench as you eaves-drop on piano-practice conversations.  Your child’s synapses are closing, his brain plasticity is hardening with age, IT’S YOUR JOB TO INTRODUCE HIM TO AND DRIVE HIM TO AND TASK-MASTER HIM INTO ALL OF THE THINGS. The likelihood grows that he will never Sing You A Song He’s Piano Man. You remember that Hebrew School begins next year because BAR MITZVAH-JEWISH IDENTITY-CONTINUATION OF THE PEOPLE. You don’t garden. You don’t habla to him en Español. Your belt tightens.

Forget cars and dogs, let’s bet on babies in the pod!

Recall the pod where they kept all the genius babies in the movie Baby Geniuses? For, those of you less filmic than I, I shall deign to explain that the pod provided the milieu for all the genius-baby antics. If you’d like a shining example of cinematography from the knee-high perspective, elegantly orchestrated baby-ninja choreography, and some of Kathleen Turner’s best work, look no further.

Now. Imagine if you will, combining the hijinks of that baby pod, with the suspense of The Price is Right Show Case Showdown, the “how well do you know your loved ones” folly of The Newlywed Game, and all of the drama of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, and you have an inkling of what I’ll be watching and live-tweeting this Saturday night—the season finale of Bet On Your Baby!

Remember when I worked on the campaign for LUVS awesome 1kid 2kid ads? Well, tomorrow night, Saturday June 1st at 8 pm EST, I’ll be live-tweeting Bet On Your Baby on their behalf.  It’s fun for the whole family—the whole family who isn’t going out on a Saturday night anyway. Please watch and tweet with me! See you IN THE POD!!

(This post is sponsored as part of my work with LUVS 1st kid/2nd kid)

I need to tell you about the alligators in the sewer and some other stuff

By THE GRADE SCHOOL COLUMNIST!!!

Did you see that TV movie about the alligators in the sewer? Now every time I go to the bathroom I'm afraid the alligator is going to come up through the toilet and bite my butt. Even just sitting on the seat my butt gets nervous and feels too bare and so I try and just hurry it up.

I love the bathroom, just not the toilet. The water in our blue bathroom tastes the best when you turn on the faucet hard and catch it with a new Dixie cup from the dispenser in the cabinet. When you re-use the cup it all tastes too soggy. Sometimes I practice for commercials in the mirror, and I sell water called NATURAL NATURE DRINK. I want to be on real commercials, but I don't have the kind of parents who will drive me places or find me a talent agency or who believe in modeling anyways. I mean, I take the bus to Hebrew School and walk one and a quarter miles to school and back so it's highly unlikely. Who can even admit they want to model even if they do and even if they have extremely long eyelashes? You'd have to practically announce to the entire universe your super beauty and then your older brother and sisters would call you stuck up and a priss. Also, you probably wouldn't have ape hair on your arms.

My step-grandpa is a dentist to the stars in Hollywood. I don't know him, but he sends us stuff like autographed records and Real People T-shirts. If I lived there I could maybe act in commercials and be famous. Maybe, if I also grew out my mistake perm. I read a book about a girl who got famous in commercials and started having trouble with the kids at school. But she had a long braid and not a mistake perm. I think the author just wanted us to believe super pretty TV kids have problems, too. I sincerely doubt that.

Sometimes I pretend bike model. I stand up on one pedal and let go with one hand and basically do an arabesque while still on my bike! I also pretend the bike is my car and I take my kids places and drop them off again. Then I park my bike in the driveway on this part that feels bumpy like an actual car parking. Sometimes I climb the tree and pretend it's my house. Not Mom's house or Dad's house-- when I'm the mom I have one house, my name is Veronica and I have long blond hair and Christmas.

I love TV. I love watching Donahue and Joker's Wild and Love Connection and Little House (except for the one when Albert barfs) and after school specials. I saw a movie called “The Exorcist” at my baby sitter Sam's apartment. When Ragen got possessed by the devil and her eyes rolled back in her head I screamed so loud that Sam almost burned himself with the stir-fry. I started to cry but I also couldn't stop watching. Same with the Alligator sewer movie. Even if my head knows it probably isn't even true, my butt wants off that toilet pronto.

That time I played women’s pro football. Yuh-huh.

 

“I nodded along with their rationale, ignoring the premonition of myself laid prone like Wile E. Coyote post-steamroller”

photos by Sarah Maughan

I don’t just LTYM and mother and wife and write. I also go on assignment for Brava Magazine as a self-proclaimed fitness-for-spazzes columnist. They’ve sent me on missions involving archery, squash, Brazilian dance, Qi Gong, aerial yoga, running, swimming lessons, and in May I played football. Not flag football, not powderpuff, nope not foosball either (too dangerous). I trained with Madison’s full-on tackle women’s pro football team. You can read about it in this month’s issue, or click over here (turn to page 14-16 and click to enlarge).

Or here’s a blog-readers-only special summary:

Practice began with a toothless man named Cupcake helping me into a helmet and pads with his evil-clown tattooed arm, and ended up with me covered in sweat in the center of a team huddle. In between, I bobbed and weaved under the weight of my gear, while missing catches and those hard-to-land high-fives from my teammates. Had it been a game, The Blaze would’ve carried me off the field atop their shoulders, doused me in Gatorade, and sent me on my way with a slow-clap. I’m sure of it…

LTYM on NBC Nightly News! Our stories are everywhere.

photo courtesy of Erika Angulo

Nightly News flew a crew to Chicago to film a segment about LTYM at the 2nd annual (and FABULOUS) LTYM: Chicago show. The segment will close the newscast tomorrow night, Friday May 10th.

The photo above shows Janet Shamlian interviewing me. I'm wearing a dress very hard to mic--you can't see the clips and duct tape securing the mic pack on the flimsy material. You also can't see my mom sitting on a stool watching, just outside the frame. I'm so glad she joined me--not just because she's my beloved mom (and who better to see an LTYM show with) but because I needed a witness for what proved an extraordinary day.

photo by Sabrina Luster Persico

My 2013 tour-de-LTYM began with a superb trip to DC for their show. I got to see family, meet lots of cast members, and reunite with blog friends I've known pre-LTYM--like Anna from An Inch of Gray.

Right now, I’m sitting on Jennifer Sutton's couch in Austin. She co-produced the first Austin show in 2011 with current co-director/producer (and brilliant humorist friend) Wendi Aarons. Her cat sits on my lap as I try to type-- very on-brand of him (Jennifer is the face of Purina Cat Chow. Clarification: The human face of Purina Cat Chow). Tonight we'll attend the 3rd annual and SOLD OUT Austin show.

So tonight I get to go listen to more stories and see co-director/producers dear Liz and Wendi, plus other online friends old and new. Then, THEN, I get to share the terrific Madison stories with our audience this Sunday at The Barrymore. (ticket info here). I need to go make myself presentable, but I needed more to say--do you see what is happening here? Beyond a "show?" Our stories are everywhere, and all of this sharing brings us together online and in real life--through celebrating our commonalities and expanding our perspectives--empowering us in our personal and professional lives.

The amplification of stories and the broadening of the LTYM community has me brimming over with adrenaline, excitement, and gratitude. My online life, and increasingly my real life's work, involves bringing women together and building community--one story at a time. Please share yours--you can link up your own LTYM-style essay here and participate at home.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, FRIENDS!!

photo by Sabrina Luster Persico

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Giveaway winners!
Motherhood Comes Naturally (and other vicious lies) goes to Kayla S.
Lost In Suburbia goes to The Empress
Who Peed On My Yoga Mat goes to Andrea
TMI Mom Oversharing My Life goes to Pauline
Strong Like a Butterfly goes to Deanna
The Obvious Game goes to Anna See
Five Summers goes to Tracey Sellabit Mom
Congratulations, winners! Please email me your mailing address [annimig@yahoo.com]

Pre-Mom’s Day Blogger Book Bonanza [Giveaway]!

Hello friends,

As all of my energy and time become wholly consumed by the LTYM 2013 shows (Are you near one? Go see one!), I decided to give you words from a few blog-friends-turned-famous-authors .

Each author featured below is giving away one copy of their book as a little mom’s day gift to the lucky winner!

Jill Smokler aka Scary Mommy’s new book makes the perfect gift for any mom or mom-to-be that loves irreverent humor and a no-frills look at the beautiful disaster of parenting. My favorite line in the book occurs when Jill is picking out a puppy to take home and feel guilty looking at its mom “As we locked eyes, mother to mother, she gave me a look of sheer relief…Better you than me. Better you than me.”

Wildly-successful humor columnist (and LTYM: NYC 2013 cast member—WOOT) Tracy Beckerman’s new book garnered rave reviews. The above New York Times bestselling author Jill Smokler says of Lost In Suburbia “If you’ve ever looked at your suburban life with kids and wondered how the hell you got there, this book is for you.”

The charming and hilarious Lela Davidson (LTYM: Northwest Arkansas Director—WOOT) has a new book of humor essays out. Tracy Beckerman above describes Lela as “the hilarious bad mother you’ll want for your best friend.” I describe her as an incredibly hard working author/speaker/publisher/etc etc who somehow manages to make time to keep all of her fans laughing and coming back for more.

FAB humor blogger and LTYM: Oklahoma Co-Producer [WOOTWOOTWOOT] Heather Davis’ new book is not for the faint-of-Spanx. “From behind her shower door to her wide-open mini van door, as-seen-on-TV humorist Heather Davis riffs on the truly TMI of marriage and children.” – Ann Imig, Stay At Home Humorist (Hey! She should really print that on her title page…)

For those looking for a break from the mom-humor genre, Writer Pauline Campos, founder of girlbodypride.com, edited an ebook of beautiful and powerful essays about women, identity, and self-acceptance by some of your favorite bloggers Lissa Rankin, Therese Walsh, Mercedes Yardley, Leslie Marinelli, Jessi Sanfillippo, Carol Cain, Jeanne V. Bowerman, Abigail Green, Leslie Marinelli, Sue O'Lear, Elan "Schmutzie" Morgan, Kim Tracy Prince, Heather Palmquist, Shoshana Rachel, and Alexandra Rosas.

And for all of you YA fans and writers out there I have two incredibly talented friends giving away new books. Rita Arens of Surrender Dorothy is Senior Editor for BlogHer, Editor of the acclaimed Sleep Is For The Weak, and just published her first YA novel described by Jenny Lawson, The Bloggess, as "Lovely, evocative, painful and joyful all  in one ... much like high school." Hear Rita read an essay as part of the LTYM: Kansas City cast (WOOT again WOOT).

Una LaMarche (LTYM: NYC 2012 alum! WOOT!) is renown for her inimitable sense of humor and keen memory for her 1980’s childhood, making her the perfect wordsmith for a coming-of-age book about summer camp…“four best friends, five summers of memories.” Watch the trailer here. Her book comes out May 13th and is already available for pre-order.

 

So leave a comment below for a chance to win. With 7 books—well that’s…let’s see..SEVEN CHANCES TO WIN! All you have to do is leave a comment telling me a sweet or funny Mother’s Day memory. I’ll pick winners randomly and the authors will ship you their book (must live in the US). TA-DAA!

***

Madison friends, neighbors, and luke-warm acquaintances please join us for the 4th annual LTYM show at The Barrymore next Sunday on Mother’s Day 5/12 at 3pm. Ticket info here.

The worst meal I ever made and served to loved ones. Recipe included!

Revenge is a dish best served cold. Chicken-Cilantro-Avocado-Mango-Fresh Burnt Ginger- Fresh Burnt Garlic Rice and Salad Invention (TM) is a dish best not served to your extended New York City family.

Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen, 1998. Well, technically speaking, a Kipp’s Bay high rise in Manhattan, 1998. I brought my betrothed with me to New York City to stay with my Grandma Jo in her 15th floor apartment. The temperature averaged 95 degrees in the fun-sized kitchen. I had 1.25 pounds chicken to serve 7, and Grandma’s knife blades sliced as cleanly as rubber mallets. The guest list included Betrothed, Grandma Jo & myself, my cousin John—a TRAINED CHEF—his wife, and my very well-to-dine aunt and uncle.

The meal planning began naively enough. Accustomed to cooking for a boyfriend who loved anything I put before him ending in “o” and insulated with sour cream, and in an attempt to pull my weight as almost-someone’s-wife not just a granddaughter, I offered to cook dinner one night for the three of us. For the THREE of us. I figured Grandma Jo might enjoy having someone cook for her, and I didn’t fret over impressing her. For a grandmother accustomed to traditional fare like beef brisket and poached salmon, Chicken-Cilantro-Avocado-Mango-Fresh Burnt Ginger- Fresh Burnt Garlic Rice and Salad Invention (TM) made for the obvious choice.

That morning we went marketing to retrieve my list of ingredients. Grandma Jo said nothing, but an aura of eyebrow-raisiness pervaded. How many avocados? Oh? And what will you do with that?

That afternoon the calls came in.

“John and Keren will join us for dinner, do you mind?”

“Not at all” I replied, with the confidence of someone who knew how to cook watery tofu and burn eggs.

“Good news, Uncle Bob can come too! Do you think we have enough food?”

“Of course,” I denied, teeter-tottering the chicken into bite-sized pieces.

In my defense, on prior occasion when produce ripeness met non-garlic/ginger-burntness the Chicken-Cilantro-Avocado-Mango Rice and Salad Invention (TM) result struck a satisfying balance of buttery, fresh, and tangy. Sadly, on this particular occasion my results ended up more ballistic than balanced. But what could be better than a tropical cooking failure? Not enough tropical cooking failure to go around!

**RECIPE**

When we sat down to eat, each person had before them 3 chunks of bitter-morsel-encrusted chicken, 2 scant tablespoons of rice dusted with 2 generous tablespoons cilantro, 3 mangled mango chunks (have I mentioned the knives?) and 1/4 an avocado, all served on a bed of wet greens (note the proportions on your recipe card). For the salad dressing I used an infusion of deep regret, julienned humiliation and just a spritz of fresh lime.

I could hardly look up from my plate as I watched my relatives pick around their paltry poultry, and I have no recollection of the conversation. I imagine my family bid their goodbyes and went directly to the nearest diner. Grandma likely went to bed hungry to spare my feelings. Betrothed ate every bite and claimed to like it. Even without the sour cream.

***

It’s a cooking disasters blog hop! Hop on over and turn off your taste buds at these fine blogs:

Peace, Love, & Guacamole

The Flying Chalupa

Midlife Mixtape

Earth Mother Means I’m Dusty