Ann Imig's Blog, page 11

Justin Feminist Shirtless Trudeau Writes His Out of Office Email

Thank you for your email. I, Feminist Shirtless and GQ’s Most Stylish Politician–Canada’s Prime Minister Justin Trudeau–am out of the office/growing out my hair again.

 

I humbly apologize that I cannot respond in my typical prompt self-effacing pre-1995 Hugh Grant

fashion. Expect a reply at my earliest convenience; aka as soon as my lean-but-bulging forearms allow me to perform this emergency c-section on the mountain yeti I discovered (and tandem-planked alongside) while singing quantum physics lullabies to young-and-soon-to-be legal marijuana crops in Toronto.

Assuming all goes well with the baby mountain yeti delivery, and assuming I don’t need to

spontaneously assist/seeing-eye man/Facebook live-stream with any other-abeled in a

plebeian mass-transit situation, I plan to devote considerable cash, resources, and viral video footage to raising awareness around the serious risks of planking with mountain yetis—especially pregnant mountain yetis.

But not before the world falls in love with the fact that under my Garrison Bespoke

skinny suit, I’m wearing a Slim Cognito® Open-Bust Mid-Thigh Bodysuit. Not only am I unafraid to

boldly go where no other politicos have gone on the charcoal/navy/black suit palette, I’m also prepared to walk a mile in Spanx toward equal pay for women in the workplace worldwide!

In the event of a North American crisis meriting immediate attention, please contact my notably less Feminist/stylish sibling President Barack Obama (the one without the raven tattoo).

Keeping my elbows to myself and my chest in your wedding photos,

Feminist Shirtless

 

Stronger than we think

The other morning I pulled a Goddess card with the message “You are stronger than you think.”

A Goddess Guidance Oracle Card looks like a Tarot card but features ladies that resemble your hippie elementary school music teacher who never left the 1960s; flowing hair, lute, a super comfy lap and a fire-breathing or rainbow-shooting animal companion. The cards come with a guidebook which provides all the answers to life. Sometimes the messages give broad directives like avoid negative thinking. Other times they provide specifics like go outside or get a cat. If the Goddess Bast could promise me a non-puking/non-scratching cat, I’d probably own one right now. Part of the power of the goddesses lies in the fact they neither beg nor whine.

Oh, wait. I forgot to give you a moment to digest the fact that Goddess Cards even exist, and that I am a Woman of Mystery who uses them. As a Woman of Mystery, you should also know that I went to the vein clinic last week for the first time, wore someone else’s shorts for two hours as I watched my veins via ultrasound, and walked out with my very own compression socks. Now you know a bit about Goddess cards and what happens in a vein clinic consult! Naturally, this monologue turns next to the Holy Land.

I have family living in Israel. Since forever, when you mention visiting Israel or anywhere in the middle east, the response includes some version of Is that safe? Be careful! Can you bring me some Ahava hand cream? The threat of random violence is real and persistent. However, in my experience of Israelis, they don’t allow that fear to dictate their lives.

Terrorism used to happen “over there.” Now it happens “here” sometimes affecting “us” directly and with increasing frequency. I use quotes recognizing how many Americans live in a constant state of fear and violence in their own homes, and neighborhoods–nothing new about that, with the exception that our gun problem keeps getting worse. The internet, however, now provides us a constant and devastatingly unrelenting stream of terror–often in real time– even for those of us not living it.

If I’m giving you emotional whiplash in this post, it’s only partly unintentional. One of my aims in life is to laugh and find hope wherever possible, and to share it. For those of us not directly in harms way, not surviving the aftermath nor struggling/loving someone struggling, a reminder that we are stronger than we think seems well-timed.

Staying informed is important. Speaking up about injustice is important. Bearing witness is very important. When you listen to the heartbreak, do you also look for the resilience? Do you concentrate on how miraculously the body and soul can heal after a trauma, and marvel that people who survive the unimaginable can go on to create meaningful lives anew? The media doesn’t typically report that part of the story, and I know I don’t focus enough on the strength that lies therein.

For those of us not in the line of fire, for those of us not picking up the rubble of our lives–and now that we have no choice but to face the reality of violence all over the world, too close too home, and far more often than we wish–we have an opportunity to find our strength, support others, and live our lives–laughter and joy included.

***

 

ELEESE BOHANNON-SCOTT reads at our 2016 DC show, by Julie Lowery Photography

The Listen To Your Mother videos are here! The LTYM YouTube channel serves as a valuable resource and source of comfort. Whether you need to laugh, need to know you aren’t alone, need a good cry, or simply need a little escape– you can search by topics as vast as ‘humor’ or as specific as adoption, single-parenting, divorce, loss, twins, etc. We invite you to experience voices from our shows all across North America featuring powerful true stories that capture all facets of contemporary parenting (as well as stories about our own upbringing) including very timely personal narratives given the recent events in Orlando, Baton Rouge, Shaker Heights, and Dallas. On the Listen To Your Mother YouTube channel we feature a variety of playlists by topic, and for 2016 we’ve added two new playlists–one with stories about race, and another with stories from LGBTQ families.

Here in Madison on Mother’s Day hundreds of folks gathered at The Barrymore to listen to a diverse group of Madisonians sharing their humorous, moving, and profound words. You can watch the 2016 Madison show by clicking this playlist.

Pictured, #NotPictured

Pictured:

The serene view from our cabin rental last week on Lake Superior.

#NotPictured:

The getting-out-of-town tango (endless lists/laundry/packing, bonus: freezer dying and food spoiling) includes heavy sighing on my part, and lots of tongue-biting on Husband’s part. Not to mention the which lights do we leave on and off two-step; I turn them off and he turns them on. Followed by  just one last waltz with the bathroom. Times three.

#NotPictured:

The nine hour drive. I begin to relax 45 minutes in, and Husband says the only way this morning could’ve been worse was if you were physically smacking me on the face and I laugh a mirth/ire laugh and insist he assume at least 40% of the getting-out-of-town family tango because not only does he not lead, he draaaags. Husband claims 5% maybe and we cruise along with increasing levity due to our gas station snacks and be-headphoned children.

#NotPictured:

At the 7.5 hour mark I see a worrisome look upon Husband’s face. On my beloved’s eyes appears the gaze of international lay-over with nowhere to lay except over a row of airport seats with unmovable armrests– aka a human on the brink of total systems breakdown while operating heavy machinery nearing 80 miles per hour. I turn up the top 40 IF YOUR LIPS ARE MOVIN’ YOUR LIPS ARE MOVIN’ because his lips weren’t moving nor were his pupils, and I clap and bounce to keep my partner irritated enough to stay the vehicle on the road, as only a wife/cattle-prod can do. We find a rest stop.

#NotPictured:

Elderly neighbors arriving at 11pm, so close and quiet, yet so present as if their dozen slow trips to unpack the Cutlass all take place on a gravel driveway inside my inner ear. Beds so small my entire calves dangled off the end; the antithesis of California Kings, we name them Minnesota Jesters–no Minnesota Midgets. Too many pillows, too many bodies, magnificent head all the way back open-mouth star-gazing.

***

Pictured: Finding out the view atop Pincushion Mountain overlooking Lake Superior is actually pretty worth it.

#NotPictured:

30 minutes of muddy trails, wet feet, and vocal misery. Both ways. All ways.

A horror show of blood and bugs in hair and on napes that sends me into full-family hood enforcement, and a google anxiety spiral deep into the night. (Black flies. The answer was black flies.)

***

Pictured: A visit to a Canadian amethyst mine in the pouring rain.

#NotPictured:

This is pretty much exactly as pictured.

Except.

#NotPictured:

The initial failed jaunt into Canada to see said mines three days prior, which resulted in a car search producing contraband nunchucks in son’s karate bag. Escaped possibility of imprisonment and $1000 fine due to FELONIOUS CONTRABAND CHUCKS by turning car around after two hours of border no man’s land. Not kidding. Totally humorless. Did not escape another night of anxiety in our Minnesota Midget.

Pictured: Rock-hopping on Artist’s Point

 

#NotPictured:

Less parental terror than years past of one brother pushing the other brother I SAID I WAS FIRST off a rock and into immediate hypothermia.

A guy in a windbreaker nestled in the rocks, painting an impressive oil rendition of this ship in a tiny wooden box.

***

Pictured: Us

#NotPictured:

Family dinners. Family donuts. Family walks to make more room for more donuts.

Whittling. S’mores. Smoked fish.

Stolen moments of affection. Generous helpings of whining.

Reading in the sun. Apples to apples.

Big adventures, long down times (thank you WiFi in Nana’s cabin, THANK YOU).

Throwing stones. Leaping boys. Words with Friends (with Nana and Grandson).

Nana and Papa Doug and Aunt Rachel and Rusty the Irrepressible Rusty Dog!

#NotPictured:

The work of love that pays dividends.

***

Happy first day of summer! Share a #NotPictured moment with me on Facebook! Why not?

 

Restocking the shelves, restocking the stories (Join me next week at DreamBank Madison!)

It’s restocking time in casa de Imig, both literally and metaphorically. After wrapping an indescribably soulful and joy-filled 41-city LTYM season and 7th annual Madison show, I need to grocery-grab, post-production paper-push, pile-sort, organize, houseclean, parent, and especially reconnect with family and friends.

As I anticipate my favorite month of the year–June (also known as La Mes de Watch Ann Finally Collapse)–I must call on my last resolve to sign all the permission slips, deal with the camp forms, attend/chaperone End Of The Year Everything, and most importantly not pull a muscle trying to barrel the soccer ball across the field in the annual end of soccer parents vs. kids game. WATCH OUT ANKLE-BITERS! HERE I COME WITH MY CHILD-SIZED SHIN GUARDS AND ELDERLY GAIT.

But first–before La Mes de Watch Ann Finally Collapse–please join me at DreamBank Madison!

Next Thursday evening May 26th American Family DreamBank gives you a chance to hear some LTYM stories. Did you miss our Mother’s Day show here in Madison? Even if you attended the Madison show, this will be a different event with different stories, plus a great discussion about how telling stories can change your life and help you realize your dreams. Darcy (right) Takeyla (center) and I will re-stock some stories from our Madison alumni of previous seasons (the very talented Oroki Rice, Jennifer Rosen Heinz, and Lily Bragge) to fortify this intimate and powerful storytelling conversation next week. The event is free, but space is limited and filling up–so reserve yours today!

Game Changers

On Friday night I sat among colleagues and friends in Dana Point, California, as a nominee at the 3rd Iris Awards ceremony at Mom 2.0 Summit. I felt uneasy in the nervy WILL MY NAME BE CALLED environment, although I absolutely assumed my name would not be called–not because I don’t believe in myself or the project. Considering the project has been around for 6 years and I’d been nominated for the third year in a row, I put my cards on the others–nominees changing the game in huge vital ways–and didn’t think too much about an acceptance speech.

Then I heard my name! And needed an acceptance speech (thanks A LOT Tom Hooper for using up “Listen To Your Mother” in your Oscar acceptance for The King’s Speech). I brought my astonished self and ill-prepared words of thanks to the stage to accept a very weighty award (weighty in name, actual heft, and symbolism–all).

I thanked the thousands of people who’ve bravely shared their most personal stories, changing the motherhood game at our auditions and live shows. I gave tribute to 100 local LTYM director/producers who dedicate over 6 months of work annually to claim their own stories and–most important–make space for the voices of others, changing the game in their community. I urged a room of influencers sitting with me in that very posh hotel on the ocean to share their power with and for others, given that the majority of folks in our home towns don’t have the privilege of a blog, or an audience following/listening to them, or a very posh hotel by the ocean full of creative people. I thanked and now need to profusely thank once again the LTYM North American team of Deb Rox, Stephanie Precourt, Taya Dunn Johnson and Melisa Wells who’ve kept me and LTYM going and growing, and who’ve enabled us to work towards our game-changing mission with success and FUN. Finally, I recognized LTYM’s North American sponsors BlogHer and Luvs for years of loyal financial support and partnership.

Fun fact: as I planned to say a few words about my fellow nominees, the slide with all their names disappeared and I went blank and started muttering. So, I’ll do that now. Ana and Stacey–both as individuals with Blogalicious and We All Grow, and also together with coLAB–you’ve changed the game of women and entrepreneurship. Thank you for making the game board more inclusive and welcoming to diverse women as you’ve built your massively successful names and empires. Katherine your life-saving work for Postpartum Progress is widely known and acclaimed and for good reason, and it was a thrill to see you win Social Campaign of the year for #MeditateOnThis!! ONE, I cheered as you won a 2015 Iris for philanthropic work, and followed along this past year as several of my peers shared compelling photos and stories of their visit to Malawi to #ElectrifyAfrica. Thank you for all you do to help women and families get materials they need to nourish and improve their communities. You find a list of all the 2016 Iris Awards winners here.

LTYM game changing season is NOW!

If you’re reading this and have not experienced a live LTYM show, we still have 17 shows left this season including our 7th annual Madison show at The Barrymore! Stephanie recapped our first two weekends here here here and here, so you can see fantastic photos and quotes. I got to witness the 3rd annual Baltimore show and 1st ever Burbank show and I can tell you the LTYM mission resounds from coast to coast!!!

Speaking of game-changers, do NOT miss our 7th annual Madison show THIS MOTHER’S DAY SUNDAY 5/8 at 3PM with 13 readers who change the motherhood game with their hilarious, heartfelt, powerful and uplifting words.

Thank you, audience both live and online, for changing the game with me. Thank you for cheering me on, for believing in me and LTYM, and for listening and showing up. Deep appreciation to Mom 2.0 Summit, The #IrisAwards, and everyone who voted.

photo by Elizabeth McGuire, Iris Nominee Best Photography

My Favorite Mother’s Day memory? Maybe not when I got a black t-shirt for a push present.

This post is sponsored by Luvs as part of their #ShareTheLuv campaign

When Husband and I set our wedding date for May 30th, my boss at the time, Ellen,  joked “You didn’t plan that very well, Ann. Your birthday, Mother’s Day and your wedding anniversary all in the same month?!?” Already a mom herself, Ellen knew something I didn’t–that my days were numbered of ME serving as the central focus from which all holiday centrifugal force emanated. At that point in my life, Mother’s Day didn’t move the needle much for me on the holiday Richter scale, whereas my birthday counted as a major seismic event/national holiday/code red MANDATORY AWESOMENESS REQUIRED.

Five years later, Husband and I crash-landed at our first Mother’s Day 10 weeks postpartum yet, somehow, 10 billion hours self/sleep-deprived. That particular Mother’s Day also brought my 30th birthday (no pressure). My big round number birthday only magnified my visions of a sparkly unforgettable gift, and set my pushed-a-baby-out present hopes three decades high. Husband had a push-present vision all his own–a vision of pushing through his bone-deep exhaustion to make it to some store any store Dear God I need to hand a substantive material expression of several momentous occasions all at once to my frazzled wife.

And so, on that 30th birthday/Very first Mother’s Day/Wedding anniversary looming on the horizon day, Husband presented me with… a wrapped box. Clearly a shirt box; this box was fit for a nightgown, twin set, or other matronly item on the Never Give Your Wife Any Day But Especially Not Today Registry. I prayed a small maybe it’s something sentimental prayer and opened the box to reveal…a black…short-sleeved..T-shirt.

A BLACK TEE SHIRT.

Yet, it wasn’t merely a black T-shirt, for it had accoutrements. If you’re grinning from ear-to-ear and thinking what a clever new dad, he probably put some diamond studs in that T-shirt, you’d be almost right! For on that T-shirt lay three buttons at the v-neck. This was no black tee you find shrink-wrapped in a three-pack, it was a ladies tee! With three buttons at the neck!! Obviously those three buttons elevated it to gift-level “unlikely recipient will cry and/or fly off the handle.”

I cried. I flew off the handle. I still cringe at the memory.

In fairness, well, he did sorta bungle that gift. I still don’t know what he was thinking except perhaps something like complete paralysis over pleasing me, combined with the knowledge he needed to shop quickly to get home and help with the baby. Maybe also a subliminal twinge of mourning clothes– a homage to our dashed dual income no kid life. Poor sweet man. He had given me so many thoughtful, beautiful, and yes even sparkly gifts before and after that Mother’s Day–especially the ones I’d wanted all my life; my babies.

While this Mother’s Day memory might not be my favorite (I think that might be the one where he had our kindergartner and toddler run into the bedroom to wake me up wielding long-stemmed roses as swords) it’s one I recall with laughter and fondness, nostalgia and sheepishness. Then I marvel at my gratitude for Husband, for our family, and for how far we’ve come together as team. Wearing his and hers black T-shirts, of course.

Use the hashtag #ShareTheLuv to share your favorite Mother’s Day memories, and check out some funny sweet remembrances from a few of our local LTYM director/producers. Luvs serves as a North American sponsor for Listen To Your Mother, and we thank them for their continued support of creative online women, parents and dry babies everywhere!

Luvs is the official diaper of experienced moms, Luvs is offering big savings on diapers with a high-value coupon insert in this Sunday’s paper plus a print-at-home coupon option.


Additionally, in partnership with Ibotta, Luvs is also offering a limited-time $5 rebate on any boxed variety of Luvs Diapers, 54ct. box or larger.


With large stretch tabs, ultra-leakage protection, a money-back guarantee and multiple high-value coupon offers, Luvs with NightLock provides high-quality features for less cost than premium brands.

 

 

SUPER SECRET LIFE HACK! Clean your floors with old gross coffee!

I made a huge discovery this morning. You can use old gross coffee to clean your floors! Follow my easy step-by-step guide (while you pretend I shot it in real time and edited it into a fast-motion video like a self-respecting legit momblogger).

Drink some coffee and leave mug somewhere in the household-etherworld per your usual.
Put away the clean mugs sitting on the counter after your kids empty the dishwasher–not because the kids can’t reach the mugs, but because they couldn’t three years ago, you are slow to adjust, and children prey on weakness.
Go do stuff.
It’s time for your mid-morning coffee break! Give a cursory glance that doesn’t locate your original but now old gross coffee, shrug, and reach for a clean mug your children–oops no you–put away earlier. (Note to self: make sure to get singles for children’s allowance!)
SURPRISE JACKPOT the new mug you select from the cupboard is the old gross household-etherworld coffee mug–still half-full of coffee. Enjoy a coffee facial as it rains down upon the clean not-pajamas you proudly put on five minutes prior, and your kitchen cabinets, counter-tops and floor.
Clean all of those things and realize your kitchen is now tidier than just a few moments before and…
A NEW LIFE HACK IS BORNETH!
Run to post it on the internet.
Add some eye-catching art to optimize sharing. You are a self-respecting legit momblogger, by God.
Go spill some gross coffee on your own floor and enjoy more of my hacks.

COOL STUFF GOING ON!!

Last night I dreamed I went to France without any Francs. Maybe this dream stems from the fact that I rarely have cash money in my wallet. Since my kids don’t accept debit cards yet for allowance, they are more than a little accustomed to IOUs aka broken promises. Pretty sure you can’t pay for a cafe au lait with broken promises.

I think this dream relates to my anxiety about so much cool stuff going on and a fear of finding myself unprepared. This fear manifests in reality when I forget to tell the people closest to me like YOU dear reader, when cool stuff appears on the horizon. So! Join me!!

In Madison:

In my capacity as chair of the Jewish Federation’s Family Ed committee I’m helping bring scholar, chef, culinary historian, and amazing author/blogger/writer Michael Twitty to town. He’ll be here next week! Click on the picture for more info.

Also, LTYM announced our 2016 Non-profit causes, which will bring the project over $100,000 in giving to local causes that support women and families in need (including Madison’s own Literacy Network).

Speaking of Madison, Tickets are on sale for our 7th annual Mother’s Day LTYM show! Check out our amazing cast, and learn more about these fine storytellers here.

On The Internet:

Last month I was a guest of the lovely speaker coach Sally Koering Zimney on her This Moved Me fabulous podcast which is “Creating Talks That Move The World.” Here’s a Facebook link to the episode.

 

At The Iris Awards (at Mom 2.0):

LTYM was nominated for TWO Iris industry awards (in the “Gamechanger” and “Most Entertaining Content” categories) thanks to the thousands of hands that help create and power this live-storytelling video-sharing female-empowerment social-giving social media phenomenon! I am honored to represent LTYM’s third consecutive year as a nominee at the ceremony (and even more super psyched to celebrate with dear friends and colleagues from all over the internet, as we dance the night away at the after-party).

 

Alas, not in France…yet.

That’s all for now, and that’s plenty of fuel for anxiety dreams through Mother’s Day. Hope to see you at The Barrymore on May 8th!!

 

 

Tedx Talks I Give In My Head

Smoked meats forever: The day I stopped caring about how everything is toxic and doubled-down on mini turkey pepperoni

Everything you worry and complain about would make your great-grandmother laugh and then wretch: Let’s detail it, then go to the float tank and cry

Meeting Q&As: There are no stupid questions, but please resist the allure of your voice and let us go about our treacherous-enough life paths

Maintain your parenting standards by protecting your kids from social media and violent video games: Isolate kids from their peers, hold them firmly behind the online learning curve, and turn life into one ceaseless and dazzling power struggle

Roberts Rules of Order, neighborhood listserves, and announcements: How to make adults feel important and ruin everything

The Botox Debacle: Thinking about Botox and how that increases your need for Botox

Learn a family recipe or make something up: Avoid having to write TACO KIT for your child’s “Favorite Family Recipe” in at least a dozen school fund-raiser cookbooks (you’re going to have to cook it for the potluck, and no one believes that cheddar bunnies were smuggled over on the backs of your elders from the old country)

Do what you love and some likely not much money might eventually follow: How to work 8 years for 651 followers

Questions in modern parenting: If I Facebook my son’s black-belt ceremony, will someone locate us and try to beat him with his own nun-chucks?

Midlife budgeting: It’s too late to save for college or retirement, but you might be able to afford Invisalign for your janky top teeth if you serve only Chex mix at the Bar Mitzvah.

Awesome audience take-aways: I am totally gonna think up some

Sometimes self acceptance means a Charlie Brown stamp on a condolence card

This morning at yoga an acquaintance asked me “How did you get so good at yoga?”

I listened to myself respond about how I’m actually not good at yoga–and very inflexible–and that yoga teaches me to stay with hard things.

During class a different answer appeared; self acceptance.

When I started yoga in my twenties I often found myself frustrated, comparing myself to my classmates. Instead of working at my ability and from the inside out, I contorted myself from the outside, striving to attain the “look” of a pose (tight hamstrings be damned).

People often use the word “contortion” when talking about yoga, but truthfully if you have a good and wise instructor, if you listen carefully and heed their guidance honestly, yoga becomes not about contorting but about allowing.  Today, yoga for me means challenging myself to myself, not challenging myself toward an external ideal, or in competition with anyone else. I hardly even notice my classmates anymore, except for the bold display of male confidence who wears spandex booty-shorts and nothing else.

I don’t know when I stopped striving in yoga, but this comment from my classmate came at a time when I’ve been striving too much in other areas of my life. I’ve been wishing for a great infusion of encouragement to fill my reserves–a place no Facebook like can reach. His question prompted me to realize that instead of an external pouring-in, I need the internal hugging of muscles to bone, of heart to soul, of self-acceptance.

**

Two condolence cards sat on my desk over the weekend, because all I have on hand are Charlie Brown Christmas stamps. Sending messages of strength to the grieving with Charlie Brown Christmas stamps seems gauche beyond my normal gauche-tolerance. Knowing that a trip to the post office for more appropriate stamps would delay sending the cards days or weeks or indefinitely, today I affixed two of the least-festive stamps to the cards, and put them in the mailbox. I didn’t pick the stamps with Charlie Brown’s pathetic tree, because it’s one thing to send gauche off-season cartoon strip stamps to grieving friends, and another to send gauche off-season depressing Christmas tree cartoon strip stamps to grieving and coincidentally also Jewish friends. But you know what? Sometimes self-acceptance means a Charlie Brown stamp on a condolence card.

Last week’s efforts at more conscious eating culminated in a grand and sweeping Cookie Monster episode on Friday night. That was not an external pouring in I needed either.

Our house and things and future need investment and tending and updating. I have no idea how or when or IF any of it will happen. Ever.

My kids need haircuts and dress shoes, impossible schedules made possible, firm boundaries and monitoring yet simultaneously more trust and autonomy.

***

Yoga does not require contortion, in fact contorting yourself in yoga can cause injury. Perfectionism and striving require contortion, and can cause injury and Cookie Monster episodes. Somewhere along the way I’ve learned to allow myself to be exactly myself in yoga. If I can do it on the mat, that gives me hope I can do it elsewhere in my life, too.