Listen To Your Other.

A few weeks ago I was flipping through my evening dose of Facebook when I stumbled across an advertisement to audition for the Baton Rouge performance of Listen To Your Mother! The ad was seeking people willing to share their story and to give motherhood a microphone.

I could maybe do that. Maybe. I sort of know a thing or two about being a mother. Maybe.

I looked again at the ad and quickly put my phone away. Then picked it up again.

No. No, no, no. This is not for you. You are not a professional, nor an expert, nor anyone who should be speaking about anything on stage. 

I explored a bit more only to see that I had already missed the audition. Aw shucks!

Wait, there is one more day of auditions! Of course, the last and final date of auditions was the same day as Audrey’s 8th birthday party. Available times were from 9am – 2pm and Audrey’s party was from 10am – 12pm. As if I could even make it there in time! I put the phone away and was suddenly conflicted between the thought of requesting an audition and driving back and forth over my phone as to never see the ad for this audition again. The thought of even requesting an audition scared the life out of me.

I finally put the phone away and went to sleep; waking up still unable to shake the idea of requesting an audition.

What’s the harm in asking? I would only be available after 1pm because of the party so the chances of them even being able to squeeze me in is so slim! I probably won’t even get an audition.

I stood in my kitchen, trembling with fear and excitement and drafted an email to the show requesting an audition. Drafted. I wasn’t totally committed yet to actually sending it. It was a draft! A possibility. A maybe!  I was merely testing the waters, feeling out the possibility of sending this….swoosh! Holy shit. I about died when I realized my shaky finger hit send. There was no going back.

That afternoon I received an acceptance to audition on Saturday afternoon at 1:10pm.

What the hell have i just done? 

I broke the news to my family that I have have totally lost my shit. They were actually very supportive and excited for me. I guess they are nuts, too. I prepped and planned all afternoon getting my piece ready. I spent about two hours locked in my bedroom closet reading out loud, editing, timing, editing, and more reading. By that evening I felt a true sense of peace and realized that I was about to do something pretty cool. I was doing something that scared me and that was a good thing. Deep down, I knew this was something I really needed to do. Win or loose, this, this is a story I can share with my kids. Whether I am accepted to participate in the show really wasn’t my focus. Getting through the audition and not dying was.

With audition out of my mind, I woke up Saturday morning focused only on one thing – Audrey’s 8th birthday party! It was such an exciting morning. She had been asking for a neon-fun roller skating party. When celebrating the life of my children I try, to the greatest extent possible, to oblige their every desire. We had fruit kabobs, yogurt dip, pink donuts, chicken nuggets, chocolate and strawberry milk, and lots, and lots of neon! I shamelessly fully commit to my children’s party theme, too. That’s right, hot pink polka-dot shirt, hot pink scarf, neon pink fish-net finger less gloves, and yes, hot pink leg warmers under my Frye boots. Yes, you heard me – HOT PINK LEG WARMERS. We celebrated Audrey and it couldn’t have been better.

I was fully aware that whatever I wore to her party I would have to wear to the audition. I didn’t have the time to make a wardrobe change and I really didn’t want to edit myself for her party. I found it somewhat fitting considering I was about to talk about motherhood and as far as I’m concerned noting yells motherhood more than leg warmers. I considered taking off the gloves for the audition, but that was it.

I arrived at the audition, surprisingly calm. I sat across the table from three amazingly beautiful women and began to read my piece. As soon as I opened my mouth I instantly knew the content was wrong. I began a series of on-the-spot edits and tried my best to be engaging and not fall apart realizing at the worst possible moment that I chose the wrong piece.

The truth is, we all have experiences like this where we interpret them as a failure or mistake. So I won’t make the show and THAT IS OK. The world will not self destruct just because I tried something and it wasn’t a defined success. I will not die. I can still share this story with my kids and show them that I put myself out there and I’m still whole. I’m still the same person with a new experience behind me. I thanked everyone, left and proceeded with life as I knew it.

On our way home from church that evening I saw I had an email from the show.

Wow, they are sure fast with the rejections!

They all loved my neon pink!

That’s so sweet. They are trying to soften the blow…

They liked me and my stage presence but didn’t think the content was right for the show.



Wait, what?

They would like for me to make some changes and resubmit my work for consideration. If interested, I would need to submit the piece by Monday.

Holy shit. Shit. Holy shit.

There is a real problem here. See, the thing is, I’m not really a writer. I mean, yes, as a verb, as an action I write. But I’m not like a writer, writer. I mean this blog, this little dog and pony show I have here is mainly for my own entertainment! Yes, I have followers (and I LOVE all 600+ of you) but this isn’t really real. I am much more comfortable talking and being engaging. Can’t I please talk some more? Engage with someone? Let’s talk about leg warmers! This takes things to an entirely new level of fear. Now I have to let my work, my writing speak for itself.

So, going back to that night when I first saw the ad to audition for the show. The dominate voice was telling me not to do it, not to take the chance, and not to risk it. But there was this other voice, whose whisper certainly turned into a yell, that said the risk is worth it. The other voice said the experience is good. The other voice focused on the journey and not the destination.

I listened to my other. Thankfully because I’m in the show! WAHOO! I am in the tremendous company of smart, beautiful women and together we are going to give motherhood a microphone!

Listen to your other. You never know where it will take you.

Happy Mothering,


More info including cast bios and ticket information can be found below:


Hope to see you there! xoxo






3 thoughts on “Listen To Your Other.”

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