Early in March, I participated in the local Children’s Miracle Network radiothon benefiting what we call in our house “Julianna’s hospital.” I’ve been meaning to write about it ever since, but I kept hoping I’d get my hands on all the photo files I wanted to share. But I finally decided to go with what I have. So here we go: My fifteen minutes of fame, mother-of-three style.
I pulled Alex out of school 15 minutes early so he could have the chance to be on the radio with me. The sky hunkered down black over our heads, but the rain held off until we were pulling out of the school parking lot. Then the heavens opened up and dumped. On the interstate, we managed to outrun it. Barely. It was a pretty wet walk from the car to the hospital, but we did manage to get under shelter before the downpour turned green and impenetrable with mere human vision.
I arrived at the radiothon with three kids under 6 and the promise of help from the organizers. In a word, it was hysterical.
I did four interviews—eventually. But first, we sat around the couches and watched the first major severe weather of the year roll by, complete with a tornado warning, which moved the whole shebang into the hospital cafeteria for fifteen minutes. The kids passed the time eating crackers and fruit snacks provided by the staff. Fortunately, the twister went south.
It took me an interview or two to warm up. Alex ran the Batmobile on the floor, up the backs of the rollaround plush chairs, and around the back of the sound boxes lying on the tables—and then perched on my leg to talk into the microphone, so he could say he’d been on the radio, too. Julianna just wanted to spin the chairs around and around. Oh yes, and investigate the contents of various purses and laptop cases left on the floor by people who clearly were not aware of her presence in the vicinity. (What were they thinking? ) Every deejay commented on how vivacious she was, by comparison to the story I was telling of a child on the verge of death (which sounds really melodramatic, but read the history and you’ll know she really was).
Nicholas colored with Miss Missouri. T.J. (“Truman Junior”) showed up between interviews two and three, and my kids went crazy. They beeped his nose, hugged him, played with his tail. During the second interview, the kids started fighting, and I had barely started the fourth when Alex spotted plastic cups of candy on the table in front of me. “MOMMY!” he yelled, just as I began telling our story on live radio, “THEY HAVE ROLOS! CAN I HAVE A PIECE OF CANDY?” Hearing the word “candy,” the other two came running, and I was reduced to making jokes, trying to hold a microphone and unwrapping candy for three greedy pairs of hands. “I don’t think anyone’s eating dinner tonight,” I joked. And then Alex turned to me and whispered, with all the glee of a small child uncovering something scandalous, “Mommy, guess what? Truman’s a PERSON!”
“How did you decide that?” I whispered back.
“He has a zipper!” Alex said.
So begins the unraveling of all the mystique of youth!
We were supposed to be on the radio in the bottom half of the 3:00 hour. I figured we’d be home by 4:15, 4:30. Instead, we limped into the house five minutes ahead of Christian coming home from work. (And they sort of ate dinner, but not exactly.) But it was worth it when my next door neighbor asked for my autograph the next day.
(This Motherhood Moment shared with mama Kat’s Writers Workshop.)