Last week was crazy and inspiring and exhausting and wonderful and terrible. All of those things. The universe managed to serve me up the perfect storm: stomach virus, Teacher Appreciation Luncheon from Hades, late nights/meetings for my husband at work, end-of-year project madness for the Minxes, Listen to Your Mother-Boulder shows, Mother’s Day.
You’ve already had to suffer through the details of the virus and the luncheon debacle, and I won’t bore you further with those things. Nor will I regale you about end-of-year school projects, because I’m betting that a lot of you are deep in the weeds with your own madness.
By the time Saturday rolled around, I honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through the day. When I woke up that morning, I lingered in bed for a few minutes, cuddling with the Mozz-man and sizing up the hours to come. I ticked off items in my head: feed family breakfast, do laundry, figure out LTYM outfit, shower, walk dog, feed family lunch, pack up for show (makeup, curling iron, hairspray, outfit, shoes, script, overnight bag), hitch a ride to Boulder and be at venue by 1:30 pm. And then, of course, several hours of jitters and rehearsing and sound/light check and BAM! Showtime at 4pm and BAM! Showtime at 7pm and then, at roughly 9:15pm, there would be a big exhale and some drinks with cast mates and friends. And perhaps snow, alas. Luckily, my sweet husband had booked a hotel in Boulder for the night so we wouldn’t have to sweat the drive home. Bless him.
I’m embarrassed to say that the most stressful part of my day was figuring out what to wear onstage. I’d originally planned to purchase something new and fabulous for the show–a treat to myself–but my “shopping days” turned into “vomity virus days.” I never made it to the mall. Thus, I spent a panicky NINETY freaking minutes pawing through my closet and wiggling in and out of various garments and throwing things across the room and cursing my icky, middle-aged upper arms on Saturday morning.
After that nonsense, the rest of the day seemed like CrackerJack. Really, it was kind of a colossal, wonderful blur of laughter and tears and stories and bright lights and applause and hugs. My only truly nervous moment was when I walked onstage for the 4 o’clock show, looked out at the audience expecting to see nothing (those bright lights are a blessing, yo) and holy highwater, right there in the front row, clear as day, was Mama sitting next to Daddy, grinning like a loon. Gaaaaa.
Thanks for the gi-normous heart attack there, you two.
After I swallowed my tonsils and got my breath back, though, it turned out to be a blessing, because then I could blow Mama a kiss after I did my little song and dance out there. It felt good to be able to do that and I was so, so grateful that she was able to be there. Last year, it snowed heavily and the roads were too treacherous for my parents to make the hour-long drive to Boulder. This year, they braved pouring rain, but the snow held off until late in the evening. What the heck is it with snow and Mother’s Day in Colorado?
I was lucky to have family and cherished friends there to support me and boy, was I proud of our Listen to Your Mother-Boulder cast. We kicked ass. I’m not even bragging. We killed it. Both shows, back-to-back. Boo-ya!
It was one of my favorite days of my life.
And then I sorta collapsed.
I couldn’t settle down to sleep, even after two strong cocktails at the wrap-party, and I tossed around in my hotel bed. I was bleary-eyed the next morning at brunch and wasn’t very good company (zombies are shitty conversationalists). When I got home, I opened cards and hugged Minxes and then we collapsed with a takeout dinner and Guardians of the Galaxy, which I barely remember watching. Luckily, I get a do-over this Sunday when we have a belated Mother’s Day lunch with Mama and Daddy.
I’m kind of embarrassed to say that I’ve been a waste of skin most of the week. I’ve gotten the basics done, but even those have been half-assed. Quite a few sandwiches and paninis for dinner. And takeout burgers and fries. And pizza.
You know what’s great, though? For once, I don’t feel guilty about shoveling all of that fattening, carbohydrate-laden stuff into my pie-hole. I earned it, dammit. I worked my tail off and did brave things and BRAVERY DESERVES CARBS! Lots and lots of carbs!
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Besides, I lost a pound or two via the vomiting virus, so I had a little wiggle room.
Wiggle room that I no longer have, because 5 days of carbo-loading definitely put that real estate back on my behind. Alas, my guilt is back, full force. So much so that I made hubs go out and buy this.
Healthy smoothie recipes will be hitting your inbox soon. Just in time for swimsuit season.