Tuesday, January 26, 2010

The Post Where the Last Line is Tongue in Cheek

Last week my mother and I
headed up to south Salt Lake to do an interview with the magazine Wasatch Woman. Although my mother and I are technically Wasatch women ourselves, this interview was on behalf of my sister Stephanie who is being honored with a Perseverance Honoree at the Wasatch Woman of the Year Awards 2010. The magazine wanted to interview Stephanie herself for the awards ceremony, but seeing how she is a little busy right now (expanding her upper back) they asked us to come instead.

I told my mom she could probably handle it on her own. I mean, I've been interviewed so many times that broken records are starting to sound like me. But she insisted so I went, heck, I even drove.

The thing about motherhood I haven't yet figured out is how to manage babysitters in the middle of the day. Right? So my baby is napping at 1:00pm. My husband is at work (in Florida mostly likely), my regular babysitters are at school, my sister and sister-in-laws are tending to their own offspring and my mother--the golden hour baby sitter--is coming with me. How do I get somewhere at 1:00pm and travel thirty minutes north without him? Leave him napping and hope Mao will see to it?

So I brought him with us to the interview. All was going well until the well-intentioned building guard saw fit to hand my supposed-to-be-napping child a month-old candy cane. Sticky sweetness all over his skin.

Then--with sugar fingers-- he pushed the HELP! button in the elevator as we were on our way up. The operator's voice was laced with panic. HELLO?

Someone in the office offered to hang out with The Chief whilst we did our dialogue in closed doors. It was very kind of them, and I was very trusting. Besides what options did I have?

As we were being prepped with questions and head placements (as soon as they say, "Don't look straight at the camera." I get this compulsive urge to stare RIGHT AT THE CAMERA) the cameraman noticed I had white substance all over me.

And it smelled like peppermint.

It was so sticky it had to be scratched off with my bravest fingernail. A wet wipe wilted at the job. My mom sat comfortably in her executive chair laughing at me. Maybe even remembering the many times I was the culprit of her ruined outfits.

It's the Circle of Life!

After we started, we stopped.

The director Michelle asked me not to look at my mother when she was talking because my profile of hair was getting in the way. My profile of hair in its natural, curly state can be a curtain of overwhelming distractions. I know--which why I have Ashlee do it for me every week. Only this week we had a scheduling difficulty. (This is what I get for brag-blogging about her in the first place.) And anyway, I couldn't look in the camera, I couldn't look at my mom, so for most of the interview I had rabid shifty eyes.

But in the end, the interview went exceptionally well. I would say it was my favorite yet. (No offense to Matt Lauer.) Michelle was really pointed with her questions and listened with her eyes--a super power? Mom and I were able to really express our feelings about Steph and how the world responded to her after the accident. We felt really comfortable and honest. I even went so far as to articulate to my mother my fondness for her chartreuse jacket.

When it was a wrap we looked all over the building for my son and his make-shift Au Pair. This is the Media One building which houses almost everything printed in Utah. It is bigger than Delaware. Buzzed-blond-brown-eyed-boy needle in an inky haystack.

But we found them eating crackers by a flight of stairs.

I thanked his nanny and tucked him into my arms. He was wiggly and hungry and wired. When back on the road, I did what every sensible American mother does with a hungry-tired baby and drove us right up to Arby's drive-thru, ordered two large fries and two Cokes (beverages for my mom and me) and shoved a Disney movie in his dvd player.

The Chief doesn't like curly fries. As we found out.

So, with Jungle Book blaring in the background, my mom and I drove home finishing off the fries and taking in sufficient slurps of the dark beverage.

As far as Wasatch women go, it doesn't get any better than us.

*photo of mom and me being interviewed from
** you must see this gorgeous photo of Steph taken for the magazine.
***thanks Wasatch Woman!

On dear c jane today:
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