It began with some mother. The year was 2007. She was online watching a hysterical video of another mother breathlessly reciting a list of familiar momisms to the tune of the William Tell Overture (“Are you hot? Are you cold? Are you wearing that? Where’s your books and your lunch and your homework at?”). She forwarded the video, “Mom-Sense,” to a friend, who sent it to a friend, who … About 15 million friends later, Anita Renfroe, the funny mother on that video, became a not-quite-overnight sensation.
“Getting the kids up and out the door, keeping them from bleeding or setting things on fire, and getting them into bed—condense that into two minutes and 55 seconds and it’s a mom’s day,” says Renfroe, making sense of the video’s popularity.
An easy laugher with three grown children, Renfroe, 47, lives outside Atlanta with her road manager/husband, John. Her new book is Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You: Kids, Carbs, and the Coming Hormonal Apocalypse. We caught up with her to ask about her experiences in the ’hood, as in motherhood and womanhood.
Q. Growing up, which TV mother did you want to be?
A. Olivia Walton, because she was the one least like me. She was calm; she had lots and lots of kids, and being an only child, I thought that was kind of romantic. Until I had one myself, when I decided it was incredibly, incredibly painful. [Laughs] To paraphrase Robin Williams, it was like getting a bowling ball out of an exhaust pipe.
Q. So which mother did you end up being?
A. My children would tell you that my ability to win any argument would make me more like Clair Huxtable. But my disorganization and lack of housekeeping skills put me squarely in the Roseanne camp. So a hybrid—a verbal, undomesticated goddess.
Q. What pearls of wisdom did your mother pass down to you?
A. Moisturize your neck.
Q. Excuse me?
A. [Laughing] Women always put moisturizer on their face, but they never get it down on their neck. And the skin on your neck is the same stuff as on your face, but it ages twice as fast because you don’t ever put any cream on it.
Q. Makes sense. What else?
A. When I was a self-conscious teen, she told me, “You think people are thinking about your zit or your large nose, but they’re not. No one else is thinking of you as much as you think they are, because just think how much you’re not thinking of other people.” And she was trying to cheer me up!
Q. No doubt you imparted those bits of wisdom to your own children?
A. Of course—on many occasions. There is something that comes with the mother mentality where you lose your mind and become like every other mother. I call it compulsive counsel disorder—the inability to not give advice all day long.
Q. The most famous mother in the world is Michelle Obama …
A. … And with the best arms, oh my God.
Q. And she doesn’t mind showing them off, does she?
A. If my arms didn’t wave back when I waved, I wouldn’t mind showing them off, either.
Q. Have any advice for her?
A. She’s doing a great job without anyone’s advice. I recall Michelle speaking to the press. One of her daughters interrupted. Michelle said, “Not right now, honey.” But she smiled when she said it, and I don’t think it was because there were a million cameras on her. I think that’s her default face to her children. I love that. It seems that every time she speaks to them, it’s with a smile on her face.
Q. What was your own child-rearing philosophy?
A. I made it a point that laughter had to be a hallmark in our home. I wanted my kids to have a lot of funny stories to tell at my funeral. We didn’t have loads of rules at the dinner table like many families, so there was a lot of singing, cross talking, maybe some chewing with your mouth open. But there was also lots of laughter.
Q. It sounds like mayhem.
A. My son’s friend once joined us for dinner, and he sat at our table horrified. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he said, “Does it occur to anyone that no one is listening?” We laughed because we, of course, were talking and listening. We thought it was normal behavior.
Q. So you didn’t keep too tight a leash on your kids. How about now that they’re grown?
A. Oh, no. See, I got the memo that says if you do your job right, they’ll all leave. Woo-hoo! My hope was that my children would become independent, fully functional adults. But there is nothing more satisfying—or more heartbreaking—than to realize your child really doesn’t need you anymore.
Q. You will say things most women won’t. What are so many mothers afraid of?
A. Mothers have been conditioned to believe that if we cop to a moment of weakness, it makes us less human or pleasant. It’s the opposite. Talking about these things shows how much we have in common. And some of those things are annoying. [Laughs] One woman e-mailed me, saying, “If you gave your child 25 positive affirmations for every negative …” And I’m laughing, like, Who has time for 25 affirmations when we have four minutes to catch the school bus?


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