mombrain

A Million Little Lies

In which we deconstruct the embellishments of life with MomBrain ...

By now we've all heard about James Frey, and how - in Maureen Dowd's words - his bony, lying, non-fiction butt was kicked out of the Kingdom of Oprah. And it has caused much navel gazing here at MomBrain HQ. It should be obvious that many of MomBrain's accounts are ... how you say ... embellished. I mean, I am a mom, and I do have a wicked big noggin. But - surprise! - my name is not really MomBrain. And in the interest of storytelling, I sometimes play loose with details. For example, there is nothing about me that is remotely delicate or princess-like, except for my wrists, which are alramingly bony. I did really break my foot. But the man who wheeled me through the hospital was not nice. He was fat. And grumpy.

So, in the interest of truth in advertising, here is my last post written more factually:

I broke my foot when I slipped on some stairs. The next day it was very swollen and discolored, so my husband took me to the emergency room. A fat man pushed me in a Cirrus 3 Lightweight Manual Wheelchair and parked me in the hallway, where I read the New Yorker.

My son likes my crutches, which he pronounces "crusses." And I'm grateful to my husband for taking good care of me, but I'm worried that I'll need too much help.

There. I'm sure you'll all agree that the factual account is a much more compelling story.

So, in the interest of truth in advertising, here is my last post written more factually:

I broke my foot when I slipped on some stairs. The next day it was very swollen and discolored, so my husband took me to the emergency room. A fat man pushed me in a Cirrus 3 Lightweight Manual Wheelchair and parked me in the hallway, where I read the New Yorker.

My son likes my crutches, which he pronounces "crusses." And I'm grateful to my husband for taking good care of me, but I'm worried that I'll need too much help.

Broken Bones

Here at MomBrain HQ, we have just taken our very first ride in a wheelchair. This is because I broke my delicate, princess-like foot last night when I took a wee tumble on the stairs. This morning my foot was not so delicate looking, so the Big Guy whisked me off to the ER where a nice man wheeled me down shiny hallways in leatherette comfort. Then they parked me in the hallway and forgot about me. Thank goodness I had the New Yorker with me.

The Little Guy is very excited that I have crusses. But I'm not sure the Big Guy is so excited. In the best of times I am just the tiniest bit high-maintenance, and I think he fears that I may be a demanding patient. Which, of course, I will be.

Recovery Ward

In which MomBrain marvels at the smart, funny, talented women she knows ...

MomBrain has just awoken from a deep, deep snooze. A bookstore reading on Sunday, a second reading on Monday, then a Mother Talk party on Tuesday depleted my batteries, and only one thing can recharge them: sleeeeeeeep, my pretty, sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. The Big Guy has been on Little Guy duty for nearly a week, and I am very, very lucky that he was willing to put in another day so I could swoon.

Mother Talk Seattle was a fabulous success, with opinionated women telling fascinating stories about everything from pain to power to judgment to being a working mother in corporate America. For a blow-by-blow rundown see Andi's blog.

And now ... another nap. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Pass the Kleenex Brand Facial Tissue

In which MomBrain sniffs. A lot.

Wow. Yesterday's reading was one for the scrapbook. First, Queen Anne Books is the loveliest and most beautiful bookstore you will ever see. And the crowd was so warm and receptive. We laughed! We cried! It was the must-see event of the winter! You missed it? Never fear - you can see a repeat performance tonight at Third Place Books. I am hoping not to repeat the entire performance, though. I would like to leave out the sobbing, tomato-faced, raccoon-eyed part. In fact, we will soon announce a new corporate sponsorship from Max Factor Waterproof Mascara.

The Price of Fame

In which MomBrain debates the merits and pressures of fame ...

MomBrain is in a tizzy, and not just because she is overcaffeinated. No, today is a milestone. This afternoon I will give my very first public reading to what I hope is a sympathetic audience. I will be reading my essay from "It's a Boy" and trying very hard to remember to breathe.

I have no problem with public speaking; I'm actually kind of a microphone hog. But the writing life is lived almost entirely inside the head. It's downright freaky to hear words that until now have only been imagined. And because this is an essay about my crazy grandmother who wields power from beyond the grave, I am just the tiniest bit afraid that lightning will strike.

Then of course there is the problem of WHAT TO WEAR. Do I go with the Hip Mama look? Earth mother? June Cleaver? Well. It's not really a question. My wardrobe, she is a tiny thing. And I am reading to mothers, after all, so as long asI don't smell like Spaghettios I should pass  muster.