Today I am introducing Lucy Adams:
If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny, tells the tale of every mom, every wife, every husband, every family. Lucy Adams, the author, relates to readers of all ages with stories about love, life, and all the little lessons in between, making her audience feel as if they have plopped themselves down in a rocking chair on her front porch while all the mayhem of the Adams family swirls around them. The stories found on the pages of If Mama not only reveal a woman’s drive to live every moment of every day fully, embracing both the grand and the mundane, the painful and the nearly perfect, with equal verve, but also her ability to laugh at her own frailties and foibles.
Lucy’s many roles as mother (of three boys and a girl), wife, daughter, educator, friend, neighbor, team mom, and carpool queen keep Lucy busy. Inspiration streams from the daily sprint around the metaphorical hamster wheel: burning meals, trying to look cool in a minivan, funeralizing deceased hermit crabs, eating pet watermelons, observing the oddities of Southern culture, dodging road rage in the grocery store, and then doing it all over again the next day.
In addition to authoring If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny, Lucy writes a weekly humor column, which currently appears in three newspapers – The McDuffie Mirror, Tennessee Star Journal, and Columbia County News-Times. Lucy maintains contact with her readers through her blog, web site, www.IfMama.com, and regular e-newsletter.
Before the life she lives at present, Lucy worked as an over-educated stay-at-home mom,
who still couldn’t out-think her kids, with a Bachelor of Science in Education from the University of Georgia and a Master of Science in Psychology from Augusta State University.
In her spare time, between the endless chaotic moments that fill her days with angst and joy, Lucy washes clothes and breathes.
Pour a glass of wine, run a hot bath, and grab a copy of If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny, a collection of hilarious memoir-style stories ranging from endearing tales of three-legged pigs to hair raising accounts of unpredictable cockroaches to sentimental moments between mother and child. Before you know it, you’ll be giggling until your bathwater sloshes over the sides of the tub and stuff comes out of your nose.
Here is a story not in her book
Create the Ripples, Consume the Calm
I have a chivalrous husband. He runs my bath water. He pumps gas for me. He makes my coffee in the morning. He helps me with technical stuff, like the clock in my car.
“Is that the right time?” he asked me today, when he sat in my passenger seat.
“No, it’s fast,” I affirmed.
“I thought I fixed that for you,” he said, thumping the face of it.
“You did,” I reassured him. “But it keeps skipping ahead. It was only two minutes fast. Now it’s five or six minutes fast.”
“That doesn’t drive you crazy?” He couldn’t understand how I could tolerate the inconsistency between my watch, the stove, and my dashboard.
“No, I like when I think I’m running late for work and I get there and find out I’m early.” I smiled broadly while remembering that feeling. It’s like a massage therapist squeezing my neck tightly, then slowly letting go to relieve the tension; only it’s a lot cheaper.
He didn’t get it. “That seems like a lot of avoidable stress.”
But I wouldn’t know what serenity is if I didn’t chuck a pebble into my placid pond now and then. I create the ripples so I can consume the calm. It’s an addiction.
You Can Win:
A copy of her book and this hat seen in the picture.
by visiting www.IfMama.com and telling me something you learned.
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