- Mama Hutch gave birth to five children in ten years the drug-free, old-fashioned way, like a friggin' boss. Not that there's anything wrong with epidurals or C-sections. I plan on going that route myself one day. I don't believe in unnecessary pain. You have to admit, it's pretty impressive to shove not one but FIVE watermelons down your hoo-ha. And we were not small watermelons.
- She graduated from high school at sixteen and travelled throughout Scandinavia before college like some kind of overachieving viking. So when she got married at eighteen and had my oldest brother at nineteen, she was already way ahead of the game.
- She went back to school to get her teaching credential when I was two years old, meaning that she had five kids under the age of twelve and still managed to handle her business. What's your excuse?
|No fetching hats required.|
- She has taught literally thousands of kids to sing, play all kinds of instruments, and genuinely enjoy music with a passion. From choir to band to piano lessons and musical theater, she has done it all, often spending her own money and free time to enrich her curriculum. The woman is basically a legit Professor Harold Hill, without the fancy hat. She organizes concerts every semester for parents bursting with pride at the sight of their children performing on a huge scale.
- One of those children she taught to sing was me. First in church when I asked her why she was singing different notes from everyone else. She explained what a harmony was, thereby instilling in me an appreciation for the more hard core, under-appreciated altos of the world. I was hooked. She was my Mr. Shue in middle school vocal ensemble, with less hair product, and later the director/music coach for several musicals.
|My mom is way less obnoxious though.|
- Given her large household of eight (including her mother who lived with us until I was fourteen), Mama Hutch was the guru of grocery shopping. By this I mean, she managed to fit 80 million bags of groceries (everything on sale) into the trunk of a compact Geo Metro. Watching her reconfigure the brown paper Tetris blocks was quite the feat. She could have had her own game show, for realsies.
- Another little known skill is her ability to hide Easter baskets. I wrote an entire blog about that talent alone. I think she was a very successful pirate in another life, burying treasure where no one would EVER find it. It's probably because she is constantly losing things. Her keys, her phone, the remote, her damn mind (haha just kidding!)
(And to my theater snob friends,
get over Anne Hathaway. She wasn't that bad.)
- She was the one who introduced me to Les Miserables when all we had was the Anniversary Concert VHS which we watched over. and over. and over. until she finally was able to take us to the real thing in Sacramento. It was very special to finally get to see the movie with her and my brothers Nick and Scott who are secure enough in their manhood to enjoy musicals (cough cough Andy and David...).
- When I went away to college in Southern California, I wasn't homesick in the slightest until six weeks in when it hit me all at once. It was bad. I called her crying on a Friday afternoon and she literally jumped in her car that instant and drove five hours to meet me in Bakersfield to take me home for the weekend.
|What I picture my mom doing everyday.|
- Did I mention that she's secretly Fraulein Maria (only a former Mormon instead of a former nun)? When I first into my apartment in North Hollywood, she came down to help me get settled. Most parents are willing to take their kids to Ikea. But do they also turn leftover curtain fabric into matching pillowcases? That's in addition to my favorite pink blanket, penguin apron, and countless costumes that she sewed herself.
- Oh yeah. And she makes OUTSTANDING chicken. Like for real. Even when the power went out because of a crazy blizzard and all she had to work with was our wood stove, she still made the greatest chicken of all time. Also pot roast. And cheesecake. And Orange Goop (family tradition, don't ask).