THE MAMA MARY SHOW HAS CHANGED STUDIOS!!!
I will no longer be updating posts here at WordPress, so come check out my NEW SNAZZY SHOW at
On this day, March 21st, the first day of Spring, Mama Mary is a year older.
In some ways I feel older. I have more gray hairs, more wrinkles and more creaking in the knees. But my spirit feels younger than ever before. Maybe ’cause I hang out with a toddler and a baby all day, every day, so some of their wonder and excitement for the world is rubbing off on me. Whatever the reason, I am happy, like These are Days happy, and that is the best birthday present I could ask for.
Jonathan Larson, the now deceased, critically acclaimed creator of the musical Rent, wrote:
525, 600 moments so dear
525, 600 minutes how do you measure, measure a year?
Love is his answer, as it is mine.
Here are my minutes, my moments so dear, and full of love: (the highlights, not all 525,600 of them)
Choking back tears as I sang my nightly medley of “Rockabye Bear” and “You Are My Sunshine” to Lily on the eve of Lexi’s birth, knowing it was our last moment “alone” together, and then waddling to my room to weep my swollen, sentimental, hormonal face off.
Laying in the hospital bed, waiting to dilate, watching SuperBad, and debating the various possible spellings for the name Lexi. (I originally wanted it to end in “y” but when we wrote it out it looked to much like Sexy so Steve quickly put the kabbash on that one).
Giving birth, after only 4 pushes, to my second, healthy, beautiful baby girl, Lexi Mae Godwin. Then watching Steve cut the cord and having BFF Amy place her on my chest, all blue and icky. (This moment was particularly special since I didn’t have it with Lily as she had some complications at birth and had been immediately taken away by a “special team”).
My mom thinking I named her Lexi after the Lexus she used to drive rather than her real namesake, my dad’s middle name, Alexander.
Realizing that even though I had claimed to be proficient at multi-tasking, I really had NO IDEA what it means until I had one kid on the boob and the other on my hip, all the while typing a blog post with one hand, folding laundry with the other, drinking chai tea through a straw, working the remote control with my feet and talking on speaker phone.
Becoming a writer (huh?), a blogger (what, what?) and a tech junkie with things like Facebook and Twitter (are you kidding me?).
Reconnecting with old friends from all the various phases of my life.
Reliving traumatic tween rejection when a jr. high crush (and I’m talking crazy crush, like Madonna’s I’m Crazy for You” crush) IGNORED my request for friendship on FaceBook. Get over yourself Brain. And yes, I called him Brain. I was apparently so love struck by this fella that I developed momentary dyslexia and wrote “I heart Brain” all over my school binder).
Rocking out to my all-time favorite pop icon, Madonna, with my hubbie and BFFs Mern & Amy, whilst Mr. Barack Obama was being elected President of the US of A.
Baking cookies (and by baking I mean pulling apart the pre-made dough and ever-so-delicately placing it on the baking sheet) for Santa and watching Lily’s face when she saw the presents under the tree and the plate of cookies gone.
Receiving one of the most romantic, thoughtful and funky fresh Valentine’s Day gifts EVER!
And, through a combination of all the moments put together, gaining a deeper understanding of the following phrases:
Having kids changes your life…for the better.
A woman’s work is never done.
Yes We Can.
And I’d like to give a special shout out to MY MOM, this day should be HER day too. She still hasn’t figured out how to read my blog, maybe someday she will. Mom, I cannot thank you enough for loving me and caring for me so wholeheartedly over the years. From your one-of-a-kind grilled cheese sandwiches and artichokes to your tender hugs and back scratches, you have taken care of me with loving arms and the biggest heart I’ve ever known. I love you and thank you for all you do.
Really not much time to post these days if I want to ever get my new site up and my manuscript complete. Oh, and be a decent mom and wife. And get my fix of American Idol. But I just feel compelled to share this video of Lexi dancing to Public Enemy “Bring the Noise.” She’s got my head, neck jiration thing down.
And yes, I think playing Public Enemy is being a good mom.
Also, I would like to point out her fancy St. Patty’s Day dress. Her Grandma Vangie brought it back from Ireland. Which I doubted for a minute when we saw this little girl at Borders this morning wearing the same dress.
Turns out, this baby’s mom’s best friend sent it to her from Ireland. Small world!
I’ve ended with the Irish Blessing before, but as far as I’m concerned you can’t hear this blessing too many times.
An Irish Blessing:
May the Road Rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
And the rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.
SUNDAY – a day of rest, a day of worship, a day for football lovers, and an important day for women who take the beloved birth control pill.
Today was my special Sunday, when my next cycle was set to begin, as the empty spinning wheel dispenser told me. And what a surprise…as of 1:30pm, I hadn’t even called in my re-fill. Procrastination at its finest.
After finally placing the order at 2:00pm, I took a mental note of the pharmacy’s closing time, 6:00pm, and made the conscious decision to wait til after the girls’ naps to pick it up. They never sleep past 5:00pm, so we would have plenty of time to get there before closing.
Due to hyperactivity and a couple blow-outs, the standard 2:00pm naptime became more like 2:45pm and finally, by 3:00pm, ALL three of the Godwin Girls were sound asleep. On this particular Sunday, Steve was gone at a commercial casting session, and I was nursing a slight hangover from last night’s celebration for my friend’s 40th birthday, so I took the opportunity to catch some zzzz’s myself.
Periodically, throughout my nap, I groggily awoke, took a moment to figure out where I was, determined all was well with the world since I wasn’t hearing any unseemly noises on the monitor, briefly questioned the time but didn’t bother to actually check the clock, and fell back into my deep, deep glorious slumber.
Ultimately I awoke to Lexi’s cries and as I went to pick her up, my eyes glanced at the clock: 5:35pm.
I swiftly picked Lexi up, ran downstairs to call the pharmacy, all the while trying to coax my brain out of the dense fog it was wading in, and trying to figure out my most efficient plan of action. Do I try to get all three of us in the car and to the pharmacy within 25 minutes? Do I try to get a hold of my doctor and have her call it in to a different pharmacy with BETTER hours? What should I do?
Ring Ring…Hi, I have a prescription I need picked up TODAY, but I have two kids and don’t know if I can make it there by 6:00pm. Is there any way you can leave it at the Albertson’s customer service desk?
No, we’re not allowed to do that.
Ok, well then is there anyway you can just stay a few minutes late? It would just be a few minutes.
No, they make us leave right at 6:00pm.
Ok, well then can you call it in to a different Sav-On?
No, all our locations close at 6:00pm. But we open at 9:00am tomorrow morning, why don’t you pick it up then.
Inner Monologue: Ok, Little Miss Unhelpful, Uncooperative, Unfriendly Thang…
#1 – Are not on the pill so you don’t know the RAGING hormonal rollercoaster that ensues after one skipped pill
#2 – Do not understand the imperative nature of preventing an oopsies.
I looked at the clock – 4:43pm.
Ok, we’ll be right there.
I dashed upstairs, woke Lily out of her deep sleep, threw sweatshirts on all three of us, told Lil to grab her flip flops as I grabbed mine, buckled the kids in their car seats and we were off.
It was 5:51pm.
After 8 minutes of praying to the Green Light Gods, driving like a cautious bat out of hell, and cursing the m-f’ers who were taking their leisurely Sunday late afternoon drives, we barreled into the parking lot, parked the car and RAN into the store. There I was, no make-up, hair disheveled, a kid under each arm, with my tank top being pulled down in the front by both girls who were hanging on for dear life. It was a SIGHT to be SEEN, I am quite sure.
As I reached the pharmacy counter it was 5:59:30. The rolldown doors were all shut except for one little area where the cash register sits. I saw the pharmacist standing, arm crossed, scowling, as he mouthed the words here she comes.
Huffing and puffing I reached the counter, Phew, I made it.
What’s your name? Said the same unfriendly gal, in the same unfriendly tone.
Godwin, Burt-Godwin. B-u-r-t. (This is where the whole hyphenating thing gets a little tricky).
As she fetched my prescription from the fancy hanging rack, I said, kinda under my breath, my stanky dragon wine hangover breath, yet still kinda loud enough for them to hear…
I’m gonna need to switch pharmacy’s ’cause this just isn’t working out for me.
No reply, from either the grumpy pharmacist or the unfriendly, unmarried, apparently celibate clerk.
I swiped the card, snatched up my prescription and proceeded to do a happy dance with Lil and Lexi in the aisle.
We made it! Woo Hoo. High-fives, fist bumps and hugs all around.
From there we walked around Albertson’s to pick up a few essentials, and my mind raced with all the things I could have said to clerk. I should have asked her if she has ever been on the pill, or if she has ever heard of BENDING the rules a little for a mom who needs to catch a much needed break.
Right then I saw her at the end of the aisle. We caught eyes and I thought, oh, here is my chance. We were walking towards each other.
Inner Monologue: I’m gonna say something…here I go…she’s gonna get a piece of my mind…
I stopped right in front of her and before I could say a word, she held up her right hand and dangled a set of keys.
Are these yours?
I told you, I always misplace my damn keys!
It would be a gross understatement to say I am an untidy person. I am an absentminded, scatterbrained, disorganized mess, most of the time. That’s not to say that I WANT to be that way, or that I don’t TRY my darndest to be neat and organized. Oh I try. By God, I try. Throughout my home I have baskets and bins for every occasion, for every item imaginable. The problem is that I either a) put too much stuff in the bins and or b) I don’t put the assigned item in the appropriate bin.
I have a basket for keys/cell phones/wallets/etc. sitting squarely on the ledge, just by the entrance to the main room. If each and every time I walked in the house I placed my keys and cell phone in the bin, then I wouldn’t have an issue. But do I? Unequivocally, no, I do, not. I put them pretty much everywhere else but the the bin. My pocket, the diaper bag, the kitchen sink, the coffee table.
But what I do put in the bin is everything else, like receipts, hair clips, and Rubios’ kids meal toys. So even if my keys are in the bin, it takes me a year to find them.
Hence the NY Resolution to be clean. Clean encompasses a lot: clean as in tidy, organized and sanitary. I’m fairly good at the last one since I’ve become somewhat of a germaphobe since the birth of my girls. But the addition of two kids to my life means a TON more sh*t that I have to organize and put away.
Toys are a major accomplice to my clutter problem. They are EVERYWHERE. And even though I have bins for them, they still seem to invade every square inch of my house.
So here’s my game plan:
1) I’m going to cut back on the toys – no more buying toys! There’s a recession and we just don’t NEED them. My kids like the tupperware better than the manufactured toys anyway.
2) I’m going to get rid of the ones we don’t use or are too similar to others we like better. (Laura Lee, want one of our stand up toys?)
3) I’m going to try a new company called rentAtoy. It’s like Netflix for toys. A high school friend of mine, whom I just reconnected with, is their Chief Marketing Officer, and I think it sounds like a great idea. It would certainly help with my lean, green, cleaning machine goals of 2009 since they are eco-friendly, economically friendly and organizationally (is this a word? why is it not coming up as unrecognizable by the freaky compoter brain?) friendly. I’ll get new toys every month and when the kids are bored with them, I’l send them back and get new ones. I might even get a Wii. Bring on Wii Fit and RockBand, for all my spare time.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
I am in need of a major pep talk. Like a Coach Taylor from Friday Night Lights pep talk. Like a stop whining, get over yourself, let it go, keep your chin up, the world doesn’t owe you anything, look at the bright side, just do it pep talk.
Like a Dad pep talk.
The hubbie is fairly good at them, but he’s got a lot on his plate right now, so there’s no need for me to be all bummer, woe is me, on him. Plus, hubbies in general are known for throwing in that one innocent, idiotic comment that colors everything black and turns all the pep into poop.
Here’s my situ…Besides the funkety funk funk I’ve been feeling lately, I finally heard back from the representative of the first major celebrity I’ve gone after for my book project. I won’t name names, but let’s just say she’s uber famous and she writes a blog that rhymes with POOP. So the good news is, I finally heard back. The bad news, and the reason for the needed pep talk, is that it was a THANK YOU BUT NO THANK YOU reply.
So, though I’m very happy with the progress of the book and VERY OPTIMISTIC about its future, I just hit my first hurdle, and it hurt. And though I’m sure there will be more along my journey, I am just taking a moment, on the inside, and on this blog, to have a pity party. A SHORT one. No balloons, no booze, no bad karaoke. Just taking a moment to think why would I be stupid enough to think this mega-star would have anything to do with my book. And then, in turn, question what I’m even doing trying to get a book published when I have no experience whatsoever.
So to combat my negative inner monologue and kick those nasty pity-party-going thoughts to the curb, I will deliver my own pep talk, to myself.
First of all, this doesn’t mean I/you won’t be able to get another notable person(s) to contribute.
Secondly, I/you don’t NEED celebrity contributors anyway. Though it would help to have a big name associated with the book, and it was our original idea to have notable contributors to show the universality of grief, it is not ESSENTIAL to the core purpose/message of the book.
Lastly, and most importantly, just because her “people” said no the first time around doesn’t mean I/you should give up hope on her and shouldn’t TRY AGAIN.
I remember seeing Maria Shriver on Oprah a few months ago (in fact I wrote about it here). She said it took five years of asking to finally get Bono and Gloria Steinem to speak at her woman’s conference. She said, I tell people they might as well say yes to me the first time around because I’m going to keep asking until I get a yes. Granted, she’s Maria Shriver, a Kennedy married to the Terminating Governor of the glorious state of California, but, I’m Mary Burt-Godwin of Mama Mary Show fame, married to the one and only G-Money, and what?
Ok, Mama Mary Pity Party officially over. So now I will turn to the five things that have given me inspiration and hope today.
#1 – Lexi’s luscious laughter, even if she is keeping me up at all hours of the night.
#2 – This photo my hubbie took at Balboa Park a few weekends ago; Hope and glory in full color..
#3 – This email from a dear friend’s sister in regards to the book project.
Mary, This is a wonderful project you are working on. I look forward to reading the book when it is finished. My father’s death was very difficult for me partly because I was not sure how to deal with the grief that I had. It triggered so many feelings that I know I am still dealing with. I think this project is such a great idea and I am sure it will be helpful to many women dealing with loss. Thank you for doing this.
#4 – This photo of my dad, which arrived in the mail, randomly, from my Uncle Jim. He found it as he was going through his things and sent a copy to my sisters and me.
Pretty handsome fella.
# 5 – This a card I found, given to me by my dad, at some point, years ago, when I needed a pep talk. As I’ve mentioned before, he was incredibly considerate when it came to sending cards, always with a caring, thoughtful handwritten message. I have many of them saved in a scrap book, and this one is my favorite.
The outside has a illustration of a cat (not the reason it’s my favorite) and says:
If you need a push, a pull, a tug, or just a hug…
And the inside, pre-printed message says:
I’m here for you.
My dad’s message:
It’s helpful for us to occasionally ponder Abraham Lincoln’s Road to the White House:
1831 Failed in business
1832 Defeated by Legisation
1833 Failed in business again
1836 Suffered a nervous breakdown,
1838 Defeated, defeated, failed, failed, defeated, etc.
1860: ELECTED PRESIDENT.
Mary, You have what it takes to achieve greatness, even if that amounts to nothing more than the realization that you have been a good person who has tried her best. Love Dad.
So here I go. Trying my best.