no need for a recount

I try not to get political on this blog. One reason is that I know that there probably isn’t anything I could say that would ever change anyone’s mind AND I’m guessing that considering I’m a pot-brownie baking, Latin American born woman who has a son with disabilities/pre-existing conditions and a daughter who is set to break many glass ceilings – you know where I stand.

In the last two years, the word president has taken on a new definition. Often more of a punchline than a title of respect and honor. So, when I saw this poster hanging on the walls of CPNJ Horizon High School a few months ago I was rather surprised. Who would want THAT job?

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You know our boy is always up for a challenge. Jack ran his campaign with the motto of being the “voice of the high school”. I can assure you that it was not an empty promise. Jack may not speak, but he understands everything and has the pulse on what is important to his classmates. He listens, he understands, and he knows how to get things done. My guess is that had he won, there would have been a few extra dance parties added to the calendar this year.

That’s right. Jack did not win. He lost to a very worthy opponent and Jack conceded with grace. From what I understand he shook the new president’s hand and wished him well (with his iPAD).

When I got the news, I can’t say that my first reaction was as full of grace. It was more, “What the F*%&!?!? How did my boy NOT win!?!?!”Jack’s life fell apart 11 years ago, but we glued (or taped) it back together and now he should get EVERYTHING he wants!!!”

Once I caught my breath, I laughed. Who needs all that work anyway? Besides, I love that his school doesn’t have an “all kids win everything” policy. Just because the students have complicated lives, doesn’t mean that they can’t handle some disappointments. In fact, I’d argue that this is a crew can handle more than most people in Washington.

Still, I worried a little about how Jack was feeling, so I picked him up early and greeted him with a big hug. He didn’t seem an worse for wear. I told him how proud of him we all are and that he should be proud that he ran an honest campaign without any outside interference from Russia. Then, I reminded him that he still won the popular vote at our house. He popped me on the head, smiled and got in the car.

Jack’s up for his next challenge. Maybe Prom King?
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Love, Jess

Halloween 2016 – we thought it was funny. Elections don’t always go as expected.

 

two hours, some hugs, a godfather and a shave

Anna headed north this weekend to visit her boyfriend, Will, at Fordham. We tried not to give her a hard time for choosing him over us – after all, she’s in college, we just saw her two weeks ago and she’s in love. We followed her through texts and social media as she explored his campus and then headed to see friends at NYU. It’s still strange going from knowing every detail of your kid’s life, to hearing about adventures after the fact — or watching them realtime on my iPhone.

She and Will decided to head home Saturday to hangout with some pals who were in town. We had plans to go to visit family in Pennsylvania, so we left Anna with strict instructions to watch the dogs, lock the doors and NOT have a party. Then we watched her come home for the first time in two months through our Nest cameras — I know it’s creepy (we have them for security).

Anna had a great time (and no party that I could see from my iPhone) and we also had a great time seeing the Perry/Brooklyn Torrey gang, but as soon as we ate breakfast Sunday, we said goodbye so that we could catch Anna before her Bolt Bus took her back to Charm City. It left us with a two hour visit with Bananz.

Two hours with our girl doesn’t sound like a lot, but we made the most of it.

Walking in the door of our house I needed to look passed the stuff littering the foyer floor and pile of dishes in the sink to focus on loving our girl. We hung out around the kitchen island, enjoying sandwiches from the Millburn Deli (Anna’s got her Godfather fix) and hearing all about how everyone is doing. Funny that when I asked about how her pals were doing, Anna started with unfamiliar names. It took me a minute to realize that she was talking about her Hopkins friends — another reminder that things have changed a bit. We did eventually hear about the adventures of the kids we’ve known since elementary school — I miss all those wonderful humans and am thrilled to hear they’re doing well.

After lunch, we got to do what has become an important activity when visiting with Anna. Shaving.

I hate shaving Jack. For some reason shaving my twenty-year-old son, while he’s being held down making horrible faces, is painful for me — as if it puts a spotlight over how different our lives are. Since Anna left for college, I look at anyone who walks into our house as a potential barber. Be warned — if you come for a visit, you could be next. We’ve had a few good volunteers, but no one is as skilled as Anna. She manages to keep Jack smiling and gets every last hair without a nick or a scratch.

The barber decided it was time for to say goodbye to the goatee. I rather liked it, but it’s barber’s choice at our house, and he does look awfully handsome!

After the shave, it was time to say goodbye. It’s always hard to say goodbye to Bananz, but we will see her in two weeks for the ALD Connect meeting and my nephew’s baptism, and Thanksgiving is right around the corner!

I’ve got to say – I am getting better with being a college mom.

Love, Jess

Did you ever read Anna’s college essay? If not – CLICK HERE!

National Daughter’s Day

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I missed National Daughter’s Day. Just one day without looking at my Facebook feed, and when I returned I was bombarded with piles of sweet pictures of everyone’s daughters. I felt like crap. How could I have missed National Daughter’s Day?!?

I went instantly to my phone, searching for the cutest photo of me and my girl to show everyone that I’m NOT a bad mom and that my daughter is way better than everyone else’s. I narrowed it down to a few good shots and thought about FaceTiming Anna for her advice, before realizing that I was acting crazy. I don’t need a National Day to remember I have a daughter or to celebrate her — I do a pretty good job doing those things on my own.

Not sure about you, but I can’t keep up. It seems that every day there is another National Day/Month reminding us to celebrate, remember or eat.

There are some great ones:

October 5 — World Teacher’s Day
June — Pride Month
June 20 — World Refugee Day
September — Leukodystrophy Awareness Month (for us, every month is Leukodystrophy Awareness Month)
November 27 — Giving Tuesday

Those are good ones, but then there are these:

January 4 — National Spaghetti Day
June — Turkey Lover’s Month
October 5 — National Do Something Nice Day (we need a day for this?)
June 1 — National Donut Day
June 9 — National Rose Day (I didn’t see one for Sauvignon Blanc, but June 14 is National Bourbon Day and September 7 is National Beer Lover’s Day)
October 15 — Global Hand Washing Day
September 16 — Wife Appreciation Day (just one day?)
March 10 — National Landline Telephone Day
June 21 — National Selfie Day
April 10 — Be Kind to Lawyers Day

The problem with these holidays is they distracted from things that should truly be celebrated AND they have people scrambling to join in. If you don’t eat ice cream on July 15, you’re missing out. If you don’t post a cute picture of your daughter on National Daughter’s Day you are a bad mom. So we keep going. I’m all for celebrating, but don’t you think it’s getting a little ridiculous? When we celebrate everything from quiche (May 14) to paperclips (April 4) to watches (June 19) to kite flying (February 8) isn’t it taking away from living in the moment? What if I don’t want quiche on May 14th, but I’m really digging the clam chowder that’s in front of me (National Clam Chowder Day is February 25) — should I feel guilty?

Perhaps we should consider celebrating things we love every single day.

I am trying to stop, but now I can’t stop looking at the National Days list. I wondered what National Days corresponded with our birthdays.

Dan’s Birthday (March 2) — National Read Across America Day (Dan does like to read and he loves America).

Anna’s Birthday (June 28) — National Tapioca Day (and National Nude Day, but let’s focus on tapioca . . . not sure if Anna has ever tasted tapioca, but I bet she would like it).

Jack’s Birthday (August 5) — National Underwear Day (NOT National Diaper Day? There is a Diaper Need Awareness Week in September, which is a lovely, but we need a new day on the calendar just for 20-year-old men who wear diapers). August 5 is also National Sister Day (THAT is perfect!!!)

My Birthday (November 19) — World Toilet Day (if you’ve spent time with me and my small, ALD affected bladder you know that this makes perfect sense).

In case you’re wondering. Today, September 27th, is National Chocolate Milk Day Day. Who knew???

Love, Jess

I don’t think I need to, but why not share some photos of my sweet daughter;)

Happy Belated Daughter’s Day!!!

my anchor

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How’d college drop-off go?

As soon as we left the house, I grabbed Anna’s hand and said, “It took us eighteen years to prepare for this drive.” I was bawling before we left Clinton Avenue.

It was a long two days of loading and unloading and setting up and last minute shopping and crying, before we kissed Anna good-bye and headed home to our new chapter. The house seems a little too quiet, but I’m not as sad as I’d expected. Sad would mean that I’m waking up in the middle of the night crying and sitting in Anna’s room counting the days until she comes home for Thanksgiving break (81 – maybe I am counting a little, but I’m staying clear of her room). I’m not sad, instead I’d describe it as feeling lost.

I’m getting along fine and then something will hit me. The empty stool at the kitchen island or the missing pile of shoes at the front door. I’m missing that fight in the morning when there’s no milk for my coffee because Anna and her friends had late-night bowls of cereal while watching Gilmore Girls. I miss Anna’s boyfriend, Will, racing into our house and wrestling a hug out of Jack. I miss the dirty dishes in the sink. I keep wondering when Anna will be home for dinner before remembering that she won’t be home for three months.

I also miss the chaos of being an everyday parent of a typical kid.

Anna has been our anchor to typical parenting. She’s linked us to her typical schools with their typical sports and typical classes. She’s had piles of typical friends that filled our house with typical snacks and typical teenage drama. She allowed us to get distracted from IEPs and changing G-tubes, because we needed to worry about curfews and grades and other typical stuff.

Being Jack’s mother is my honor and I love (almost) every ounce of parenting him, but it’s different. It’s not the parenting that you read about in novels or watch in movies. It’s not the parenting that MOST of my friends have experienced. It’s not the same parenting that raised me or raised Dan. I pride myself in not needing to be like everyone else, but it has been nice to be part of the conversation when people are talking about t-ball, middle school drama, first boyfriends, driving tests, and college essays.

I’m scared that without my anchor I will be left adrift.

The biggest accomplishments of my life have been as a mother. I am not pretending that I’ve been a perfect parent. There’s a long list of mistakes I’ve made along the way (things I wish I had taken more seriously – things that I did that make me cringe) but, when I look at our two children, I’m so proud of what I helped to create. I’ve grown to embrace being part of Jack’s beautiful, complicated life, and I’ve also loved being anchored to the day-to-day typical parenting world thanks to Anna.

I know that parenting isn’t over when kids head off to school or go to work or start their own families. I just hurt my toe (long story that means I will never go into Trader Joe’s again without wearing boots), and the first person I called was my mother. The last few days Anna has reached out to share stories about her first days on campus. I know I will be part of Anna’s life forever, but my anchor is now 156 miles away. She will no longer share every detail of her experiences. She will make friends that I will never meet and do things that I haven’t signed off on or understand. She is starting her new life. I’ll always be part of it, but a smaller part than I was a week ago.

I’m trying to get my bearings and am really trying not to overdo the calling/texting/face-timing. I want to give Anna space to fly, but it’s hard not to hear her voice around the house, “Mooommmmmm, where’s my backpack/curling iron/charger?” “Mooommmmmmm, what’s for dinner?!?” “Mooommmm, can I take the car?!?”

Jack is doing a great job of keeping me distracted. As I’m writing this (on the couch, with my foot elevated and covered with a pile of ice), Jack is sitting next to me laughing at his Impractical Jokers. Jack might not be “typical”, but he sure is great company!
Love, Jess

PS Anna isn’t just a pleasure to parent, she’s the best friend I could ever ask for. Maybe I am a little sad. Just a little. Enjoy every second Blue Jay Banana, but don’t forget to FaceTime!!!

lucky mom

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Every weekday morning, Anna races downstairs making sure she gets a chance to give her Boogie* a hug before his bus arrives. It makes my heart melt. No matter what’s going on in our family, our country, or the planet, I try to pause and enjoy the love that these kids have for each other. Siblings/best friends – the strongest bond I’ve ever witnessed. I’m a lucky mom.

That is all.

Love, Jess

* Jack AKA Boogie, Boogie Brown, Boogs, Boogs McGee, JackO, WackO, The Weasel

 

What I realized while in Paris

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Sitting at a dinner table in the heart of Paris I watched my mother and daughter debate everything from single-sex college dorms to the definition of rape. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was watching two extraordinary women. Two of my closest friends.

I’ve always been close to my mother – first as a daughter and then as a friend. I remember when our relationship turned from mother/daughter to friend/friend. I was older than Anna. I needed to be older than Anna. I needed guidance well into my twenties (okay – I still need guidance, but my mother is much better at slipping her advice into polite conversation – usually).

It’s strange when your mother becomes your friend because she becomes human. She’s no longer the person behind a curtain who you fear but can’t really see. This new person makes mistakes and bad decisions (not you, Mymom – I’m just trying to describe most mothers). She goes from telling you what to do, to what she did and how she learned. This women asks you for advice and helps you without needing to take over. I loved when our relationship switched, but I was an adult when my mother’s curtain fell. My curtain seemed to fall off without me even noticing.

Anna learned early in life that I am human. I blame ALD for the weakened grip on my motherhood curtain. ALD has a way of stripping down resilience. Too much energy is taken with worry and late nights. It been quite a while since I was careful with my answers to even the most “adult” questions and I’m certainly not great at hiding four-letter words or less-than-perfect mother behavior. Fortunately, Anna has always loved me unconditionally and she seems to know which of her mother’s characteristics to emulate and which to stay away from . . . She has grown into a remarkable young woman. Anna’s not just a good student, but she’s smart – not always the same thing. And, she’s funny and kind. I’ve known all this for a while, but in Paris while sitting at the dinner table covered with a thin white tablecloth, I gained an appreciation that she has also become incredibly self-assured and well-spoken. Watching her with my mother, debating rather inappropriate topics for a sixteen-year-old and her grandmother, I thought WOW I want to be just like Anna when I grow up.

Anna and I have talked about going to Paris since she was a little girl – a girl’s trip to celebrate her sweet-sixteen. We invited all the women in the family to join us, but life is complicated for everyone and Mymom was the only taker. As disappointed as we were not to have the whole crew, it was lovely to have just the three of us on this adventure. Museums, long walks through the city, elegant meals, even a Segway tour (don’t ask Mymom about it – she’s still recovering). It was all perfection, but my favorite part was watching these two people that I adore debating each night at dinner. I came from one and created the other. Nothing is more amazing than that.

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This week has been busy with Smiles and Duct Tape getting out there. I’ve been distracted with marketing strategies and thank yous and begging for reviews on Amazon (not that I am doing that here), but I keep thinking about our magical weekend in Paris. I have two such strong, impressive (opinionated) women in my life. Lucky me.

Love, Jess

PS Anna still has a curfew. She might be mature and amazing, but she’s still only sixteen.

I’m gonna say it. It’s not appropriate or good parenting by any stretch. I can’t believe I am going to put this in writing, but her it goes — my daughter is my best friend.

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Mother’s Day – to Club or not to Club?

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Our last brunch at The Club. This was BEFORE the meal.

 

Brunch is a lovely invitation, especially for Mother’s Day. The idea of not being responsible for the cooking or doing the dishes is always welcome. And who doesn’t love being showered with a little extra love on Mother’s Day (while getting to spend it with Mymom)?

So when my folks called to extend an invitation for Mother’s Day Brunch at their country club, my first reaction was a smile, but quickly my mind started to race.

Does Jack’s sports jacket still fit? I’m fairly certain that he ate his last tie. Could use one of Dan’s? I wonder if he could reach a bow tie with his mouth. Does Target sell bow ties? I’m not spending another $80 at Vineyard Vines for a single-time use.

Then, I started thinking about all the other pitfalls that might be lurking at the country club. We’ve enjoyed many wonderful times there, but Mother’s Day is sure to be a scene, and that just adds to potential problems we could face. A simple outing for brunch can be complicated for our family, especially when there’s a coat and tie involved.

The diaper bag needs to be packed. We’ve changed it’s name to “The Satchel of Freedom” (thank you Peter). The new name focuses the attention on the fact that the bag allows us to rome free, but it’s purpose remains the same. It’s full of diapers and wipes and a change of clothes. The change of clothes includes socks. When Jack goes to the bathroom, it’s not uncommon to require a FULL set of new clothing. Do we have a another set of “fancy clothes” to fill the satchel?

This brings me to the next concern when going out for a meal with Jack. We need to consider the bathrooms for any needed “costume changes”. When Jack was a little younger, I could get away with bringing him into the Lady’s Room and sneaking into the handicap stall without attracting too much attention. At seventeen, Jack is harder to sneak in without creating a lot of puzzled looks. People try to be polite, but I feel the stares as I start to walk Jack toward the bathroom. His hopping gait doesn’t help staying inconspicuous. Sunday at The Club might be crowded. Is there a private bathroom hiding somewhere?

Yikes! Sunday is going to be really REALLY crowded.

A big crowd means that they might squeeze in extra tables. Now that Jack has added hopping to his repertoire of behaviors, if tables are too close together, he tends to knock against people causing quite a scene. It’s particularly awkward when he bumps a table and then tries to snatch a piece of bread off a stranger’s plate. Dan and I have both learned many funny one-liners to try to apologize for such instances, but it’s still not fun.

This isn’t going to work.

“Let’s definitely get together Sunday, but is there any chance we could go somewhere else? Somewhere Jack friendly.”

Mymom gets it. Although she loves showing off her grandchildren, she has helped more than once assisting in a complicated clean up, and she understands that Mother’s Day may not be ideal at a crowed club.

I made a reservation for an early dinner at a local restaurant that has broad isles between tables and large, private bathrooms. We will get ready early in case of any unexpected delays, making sure Jack is wearing dark colored pants to mask any spilling/leaking. No jacket or tie required. The Satchel of Freedom will be packed and ready for any unfortunate events and we will draw straws to see who gets to feed Jack.

I’m much more relaxed with this new plan, but we never leave the house without crossing our fingers. Going out with our boy is always an adventure.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Love, Jess

“special” moms

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What happens when you put 8 special needs moms at a table? You hear a whole lot of swearing and laughter.

Last night I went out with a group of moms to celebrate an incredible woman who is leaving HHS (she’s not a special needs mom herself, but she gets us and we miss her already). The mood was mixed as we arrived — goodbyes are never easy and change is particularly hard for us special needs moms. Our friendships vary from close to barely acquaintance, but we all share one thing – being the mom to a special kid (or two).

The hostess showed us to a table in the back of the restaurant, where we were less likely to bother other patrons. I guess a table full of ladies always has the potential for loud voices and racy chitchat. Within moments of sitting down, several conversations started at the same time. Far from the discussions I have with my “typical” mom peers, that center around our kids GPAs, prom, college applications and juicy town gossip, most of the discussions around the the table last night were about guardianship, social security and how many seizures in a day is normal in our given homes.

Such different words, but the tone felt similar to any other moms’ night out. I imagine if you couldn’t hear the particulars of our conversations, we looked and sounded just like any other group of middle-aged women. And, once we got settled and the wine got poured, the laughter started.

I’ve never had many “special” mom friends. Remember – Jack was typical until he was eight. By the time our family was thrown into the special needs world, our dance card was full. Besides, I didn’t think I could possibly have much in common with a group of women I felt vaguely sorry for. I figured they must be so sad all the time and overwhelmed and have no time for anything except doctoring and complaining.

Then, one day I realized that I WAS a special needs mom. I’d earned my title and I wasn’t completely buried under the job requirements. Perhaps there were others like me. Other moms with special kids who were still living life and wanted friends who understood them in a way that their typical friends couldn’t.

I started slow and found a couple moms at our last school and was amazed to discover that they were just normal women who happened to know the difference between a grand mal and an absence seizure and what the letters AAC stood for . I had a lot in common with some and absolutely nothing in common with others – just like “typical” people. Amazing!

It’s taken some time, but I finally have a little circle of women that I can call my friends who know one side of me that’s still foreign to most people in my life. We can bounce off ideas about alternative therapies and strategies for shaving/haircutting/and all-around-grooming our teenagers AND we can bitch about our husbands (not me Dan, it was the other ladies) and talk about our new diet plans. AND, we can laugh about (almost) all of it!

I left dinner feeling lucky that I’ve found this group of ladies. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realize that “special” moms are just “typical” moms with more patience and a better sense of humor. I look forward to my next “special” moms’ night out!!
Love, Jess

I did learn a few things last night. Wondering what words you should never use? “Retarded” and “normal”. What words are A-OK with special needs moms? “Intellectually delayed” and “asshole”.

Poop, shower and shave

Jack’s school, Horizon High School (HHS), is having their annual fundraiser and I wanted to write a post encouraging everyone to make a donation. My first draft was filled with all the extraordinary experiences offered to the children at HHS. Physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, a school store, student government, theater, aqua therapy, an outdoor garden. This is all on top of academic subjects (modified versions of Science, Career Skills, Social Studies, Language Arts, Life Skills, Drama, World Cultures, Art, Music, Technology, and Math).

Horizon High School is amazing for all those reasons, but there is one other reason that not all parents will admit. Horizon High School gives me a break.

I’m always happy when the small white van (no yellow bus for us) arrives, and today when I saw the bus out our front window, I started crying happy tears.

This morning was particularly tough at 26 Clinton Avenue. I knew it would be as soon as I walked into Jack’s room. Even Jack’s brilliant smile couldn’t mask the odor. “Come on JackO! This is gonna require a long shower and some extra cologne.”

If I keep Jack laughing, I have a chance at survival.

Eight years into this new life and I have developed an amazing skill where I can almost shut off my eyesight and sense of smell, so that I can go through motions required to clean up after a messy situation. I can’t even describe this morning’s shower fully, but we went through a half dozen washcloths and I needed to wash the tub when we were finished.

Just as I was getting Jack out of the shower, he surprised us both by peeing on the bathroom floor. One more quick rinse in the shower and I added the floor to my list of cleaning duties. As I got Jack dressed, I glanced at my watch and realized that we had lost valuable minutes and needed to rush through the normal “upstairs routine” in record time – teeth, deodorant, hair brushing. If only I hadn’t told Dan my plan for today. We still had our “downstairs routine” – breakfast, medication, hydration, and those cumbersome leg braces to deal with. And, now I had to shave Jack too. Alone.

I’m not entirely sure why I thought telling Dan that I would shave Jack was going to make the chore disappear. Jack was already in bed when I shared my plan. I couldn’t have expected Dan to wake up his son to shave him. And, I knew the fuzzy hair wasn’t going to evaporate on it’s own. But, it had been over a week since his last shave and Jack was starting to sport a look that was a cross between gangster and homeless. I couldn’t help but mention the need for a shave and that “I guess I will be the one to do it.”

After our “upstairs routine” was over, I helped Jack down the flight of stairs and I fed him, gave him his medication and 12 ounces of water through his g-tube. Then I sat him down on our steps to put on his leg braces and sneakers, already cursing as he did very little to help with the process. Once we were done, I took a deep breath, put Jack in a headlock and took out the electric razor.

As soon as Jack heard the motor, he started wrestling. If anyone had witnessed the scene, I would defiantly have lost my parental rights. He was wiggling and trying to grab my hand as if I was pummeling his face. I did my best to keep him safe and I attacked the beard while yelling one four letter word after another. After about five minutes we were both exhausted and Jack’s face looked better – not great, but better.

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Now, we were ready for the bus. Just an hour since the alarm went off and I was already in need of a nap. Horizon High School to the rescue!

Horizon High School is amazing for so many reasons – it’s individualized curriculums, warm and brilliant staff, beautiful facilities, but sometimes the thing I love most is that it’s a place that Jack can go every day, be safe and loved AND I’M NOT IN CHARGE. I love our boy and can deal with a lot of crap, but sometimes I need a break.

Love, Jess

Please consider supporting our wonderful school.  DONATE TO HORIZON HIGH SCHOOL

 

 

 

listen to your mother

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Generally, I do my best to avoid failure. I rarely set myself up for disappointment. But, thanks to the encouragement and support of a good friend (actually a huge pile of friends and family, but one friend who actually sent me the link and twisted my arm a little), I went out of my comfort zone and auditioned for LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER – a live production (hosted in 39 cities across the country) celebrating motherhood. An incredible event where a cast of local writers share their stories “ . . . on the beauty, the beast, and the barely-rested of motherhood, in celebration of Mother’s Day.”

I went to the audition to prove to myself that I could do it. If sharing our family’s story is the goal, I need to start taking some risks. Knowing the caliber of the cast last year, I doubted that I’d be considered, but needed to give it a shot.

I left the audition sweating and wishing that I could have a do over – an opportunity to read the piece again, minus the tears and the shaky voice. Writing alone in my den and hitting “send”, is very different then sharing the words out loud. But, I did it. I stood up and shared a piece of my writing about my family, my boy and a reoccurring dream.

Returning home, I was proud of my attempt and already considering what I could submit next year. When I got the call that I’d been selected for the cast I was shocked. Literally, I found myself running around the house like I’d just scored a prom date. It’s been over a week and I’m still overwhelmed by the news. No disappointment this time!!

Buy your tickets now. Seriously, it’s almost sold out;-) YIKES!!!!
http://listentoyourmothershow.com/northjersey/

Love, Jess