History of NTRM
In 2015, as our reticent five year old entered kindergarten, my husband and I realized that he wasn’t just shy, he actually could not speak to other kids. At home, our son easily interacted with our immediate nuclear family (including his younger sister) and a handful of close relatives so we had mistakenly chalked up his stunted peer exchanges to extreme shyness.
We signed him up for flag football and music classes while also scheduling painfully awkward playdates to try to break through his timidity, thinking at some point, his desire to connect would overpower his fear. Thankfully, an insightful teacher suggested we seek professional help.
As we started working with a child psychologist, she initially diagnosed him with selective mutism (an anxiety disorder that renders children unable to speak in social situations). After further observations and testing, he received a diagnosis of autism.
While still in shock at having missed the signs, I sought out autism support groups and advocacy meetings. As I observed the other parents in attendance, I kept having this persistent, recurring thought:
“I’m not the right mom for this.”
The women in these meetings were fierce, direct, put-together, and definitively Type A. They gave edicts such as:
“If your school doesn’t have an autism awareness week, start one!” or
“If your son’s needs aren’t being met, hire a lawyer and sue the school district.”
While they were supportive, welcoming, and gave some clear, actionable advice,
I often left these meetings consumed with fear and shame.
I did not want to reveal to these parents that I was struggling with simply maintaining a household and adding the crushing amount of logistics they were recommending seemed impossible. I was disorganized, messy, and perpetually overwhelmed in a culture where being a mom is not enough, we are expected to be super moms.
We must keep synchronized family schedules, dole out organic, healthful snacks, and roll our eyes at our neanderthal husbands and their slovenly ways.
But what if I am the neanderthal?
What if my inadequacies prevent my son from getting the support he needs to reach his full potential?
So I did what I always do:
I wrote to make sense of it all.
As Joan Didion stated,
“I write to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.”
I documented my experiences in the support groups, doctor’s appointments and meetings and developed these pieces over a couple of years at the LA based storytelling show, Expressing Motherhood.
And something surprising happened, people responded with knowing laughter and a deeply resonant affirmation that they too felt like they were not the right mom, or dad, or human.
Finally, things started to make sense.
Fueled by this affirmative feedback and feeling increased stability after having finally found the right support system for our son. I found myself having more to say.
After witnessing firsthand how deeply my stories were resonating with audiences, a producer friend said, “Give yourself a deadline, book a theatre.”
And so I did.
I booked the Lyric/Hyperion in Los Feliz for November of 2018 and brought on a director/dramaturg who helped shape my material into a cohesive story with a beginning, middle and end.
Not the Right Mom (originally titled Lemur Mom) premiered on Nov. 11, 2018 to a sold out house.
After opening the show, my only goal was to perform it as many times as possible. But doing small theater in LA is expensive, and I needed to get creative. I teamed up with several organizations including my alma mater, the CSULB Theatre department, Long Beach Hero Squad (a non-profit with the mission of neuro-divergent acceptance), and We Are Brave Together (a South Bay support group for special needs moms).
Together we presented high quality theatrical performances of NTRM while providing an engaging, meaningful night out for parents, and raising much needed funding for their organizations. Plus, the multiple performances allowed me the chance to work the kinks out of the show in an affordable way.
In the fall of 2019, I joined forces with a Long Beach based producer and technical director. We had a successful run at CSULB in January 2020 as well as sold out shows in Santa Monica and Tuscon, AZ. The momentum was building towards another highly anticipated run of shows slotted for June 2020. Needless to say that never happened.
We shut down production for three years due to the pandemic and heightened familial obligations.
But I knew we weren’t done. After meeting with my producing team in the spring of 2022, we reworked the script, honed and tightened many scenes and characters, updated the multimedia images, and commissioned a Long Beach based musical duo to compose original songs for the scene transitions. We applied (and were accepted) to be a part of the Collective at the Long Beach Playhouse for the 2023 season. After an additional successful run at CSULB in July of 2023 , a performance at the Whitefire Solo Fest where we were awarded Best of Fest, and being offered a spot in the Amplify series for marginalized voices at the Curtis Theater in Brea in their 2024 season, we regained our momentum. Realizing there was a benefit to reaching a wider audience, we decided to undergo a rebranding to streamline marketing and pursue new opportunities by attending the Western Arts Alliance Conference this August.
When I think about the creative process of the artists whom I most admire and want to emulate– Mike Birbigila, Gary Gulman, and Tig Notaro, long form stand-up comedians who explore their own personal stories to great comedic effect—they workshop material in front of audiences for years before landing on the hour plus content for their latest special.
I am proud to have achieved 24 performances over the course of six years (with a three year hiatus due to the pandemic) in multiple venues across Long Beach and beyond—all while caring for a husband, kids, aging parents, neurotic dogs, and an adorable hamster.