I needed something to help replenish my strength. It was time to call in the big guns.
And there is no bigger gun than my mom. Usually, in these situations, she comes up to deliver a can of whoop-ass. Mark is smart enough to react appropriately to her--with a healthy dose of fear and respectful "Yes, ma'ams." She's a force to be reckoned with--she suggested on arrival that I get a Skype account so she can yell at Mark online from San Diego, and he can see her mad face.
But my mom didn't come solely to discipline Mark. Instead, she came up to attend the Women's Conference with me. We didn't get tickets to the main event, but we got them for a couple other events, and it turned out to be great fun.
The conference was so cool! I knew it was gonna be awesome when we walked into the convention hall, welcomed on either side by female African dancers and drummers. Then we stepped off the escalator, greeted by cute men in tuxedos.
I was excited to attend a grown-up event, and glad I didn't have to keep track of my child among the throngs of people mobbing the floor. That feeling faded immediately, as my mother whispered, "Ooooh, shiny!" and disappeared into the crowd in search of a metallic silver tote bag.
I caught up with her, but when I turned around, she was gone again. I found her at a booth selling glasses, where she told me I was in charge of her, and not the other way around. She ordered me not to lose her, a seemingly impossible feat given her crow-like fascination with shiny objects.
At one point, I pointed and said, "I'm going to that booth." She said absently, "OK," then turned to ask me, "Which booth?"
"Eye contact," I told her, just like I tell Mark every day. She looked at me and I pointed to the booth.
"THAT booth," I said. "If you get lost again, you're walking home!"
She giggled, and agreed to pay attention a little more closely.
I spent the rest of the evening watching her race off to whichever booth had free food or eye-catching objects. It was hilarious. She was so excited at each booth--she whooped loudly with each freebie, as though people were handing her the key to happiness, and not just brownie samples (although those brownies were good--and maybe, in truth, they were giving her the key to happiness, because she really was happy!). I watched my mom cut through lines, sneak in the back entrance to booths, and then melt away again into the huge crowd. I got a glimpse of what my friends put up with when it comes to me and my ADD, and it wasn't pretty. I silently vowed to apologize to them all.
We were having so much fun that one woman encouraged us to take a photo at her booth. We did, and were so giggly, she couldn't help smiling at us. We aimed the camera wrong, and caught her in our picture. The guy running the photo machine wanted to crop her out, but I thought she and her smile added to the moment, so we kept her in.
We found seats for the speakers, which included the fabulous Paula Deen and Buddy, the Cake Boss. They spoke eloquently, and I was inspired. (Then Buddy rolled out a 600-pound California cake, and I was hungry.) They made us laugh, and think, and smile, and those feelings, combined with my free brownie samples, made for a pretty happy evening.
I'd taken the next day off, and even though we couldn't get tickets, we watched the main event on my laptop all day long. We lounged on the couch, laughing and snacking, until it was time to return to the convention center. We had tickets to the Minerva Awards, and my mom wanted more brownies...
We found another silly-photo booth, and we took a picture of us in a stagecoach. (We never pass up funny photo opportunities!) We loaded up on more freebies, visited the booths we missed the day before, and finally, made our way to the arena for the awards show.
And there it was at last, tucked away in a vinyl seat half a football length away. The inspiration I needed, the hand that lifted me out of the funk my misbehaving son sent me into. I listened as Maria Shriver described the evening's recipients, and I couldn't help being moved--a woman who gave out college scholarships to underprivileged kids, another who sent 600,000 goodie boxes to the troops. Another woman who helped integrate women newly-released from prison back into society.
We listened to Sandra Day O'Connor recall her difficulties breaking into law. She, the first woman Supreme Court Justice, started her law career as a typist because, as the law firm told her, "We don't hire women lawyers." (Oh my, how far we've come! And how grateful I am that little girls, like my nieces, have a whole world open to them now that women 60 years ago did not!)
And of course, my favorite winner of all, the wonderful Ms. Oprah Winfrey, who I happen to think is just amazing, even if my friend Kelley does mock me for thinking we're friends. (For the record, I consider Oprah more of a like-minded spirit than an actual, physical real friend.)
I listened to these phenomenal women speak, and I was inspired. Inspired to do good--no, to do better. I was teary at their stories, and joyful at their triumphs. I was amazed at how much they'd done with so little, and I realized maybe I couldn't solve all the world's problems, but I could start a little smaller. I could start with a challenging little 10-year-old boy at home, and I could make a difference there.
And so we went home, full to the brim with inspiration and a sense of community. My mom and I vowed to do better in our worlds, and I vowed to set a shining example of service for my son. My mom came up with a brilliant idea of taking him to work in an animal shelter, but she lost a little credibility when she got home and chided me for feeding the stray cat we've unofficially adopted.
"What do you want me to do instead, Mom?" I asked, pointing toward the meowing cat. "Take him to the no-kill shelter where we're gonna volunteer?"
Which brought on another fit of laughter between us.
But in all honesty, it was a fantastic couple days, exactly what I needed. It reminded me to look beyond myself, that's there's a whole world out there, and I'm part of it. Spending those days with my mom reminded me just how lucky I am, that I was raised with love and support, and that it's time for me to pay that forward.
And I'm going to take on that challenge...
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