Our Family Tradition: Theater People (From the Sidelines)

Way before Mamma Mia came into the picture, theater wasn’t just a hobby—it was our family heartbeat.

It started with Music Man in 2015. Skylar (12) played Amaryllis so convincingly that a mom confronted me afterward for “raising such a brat.” Alexandra was 9 and too young to join, but she wanted to go to every show just to see how it changed each night.

Alex and I found our own roles: theater parents. That meant balancing the kids’ lives with this adult world—getting them to school and rehearsals on time. And tech week became a tightrope act of its own. How do you get them through without catching a cold by opening night?

We even followed the same director from theater to theater, the way some people follow bands on tour.

So paperwork got piled up and the dog looked at us ever so sadly that we were leaving her alone again, but it wrapped around us so tightly when the show was over, we wanted more.

The Joke That Wasn’t Really a Joke

At the Music Man cast party our first year, I joked to the other moms, “Forget the kids—let’s audition for a show!”

We all laughed, especially me. I’d never be on stage again. Sure, I’d been Mrs. Malloy in Hello, Dolly! back in eighth grade, acting alongside Dave Boreanaz (claim to fame #1 for a girl who can’t act), and I’d had some cameo performances in three Comedy Central skits in my twenties with Al Franken (claim to fame #2)—but that was pre-kids.

Sure, I’d been accidentally brave before, but the stage and I had broken up a long time ago. Let’s just say, theater was like Grey Poupon for me: I never really liked it, but if that’s what’s on the table, I’ll take it.

And hey, be careful what you joke about. Sometimes it sneaks up and bites you in the spotlight.

The Dare That Changed Everything

Fast forward to fall 2018. Skylar (15) and Alexandra (12) wanted to audition for Mamma Mia at Jenkintown Music Theater.

We’d all watched both Mamma Mia! movies, of course. For the girls, it was just another chance to chase the thrill of the next big show. For me, it was different. Those songs were part of me. They belonged to a version of myself I’d nearly forgotten—the one who used to sing and dance with her hairbrush around the dining room table just because it felt good.

I almost said no—it’s so much work for me, plus who’d walk the dog? Skylar kept at me until I caved. But this time I remembered something about myself, “If you try out, I’ll be singing and dancing in the aisles.”

Skylar, at the height of the age of mom-embarrassment said, “Well, in that case, you might as well audition.”

That was the moment. If you hit replay and played it back slowly you’d find the meeting of the minds. Our traditions just opened a door. And instead of slamming it shut, I said, “Maybe…okay, yes.”

The Audition Reality Check

But, first, I needed a headshot, which Alex took. I was freaking out, “I look like an old housewife. Can’t you do better?” His reply: I can’t make you look any better than you are.” Classic Alex, classic me moment.

So here I am: a 49-year-old housewife, stage peak in 8th grade, tried Comedy Central embarrassment phase. Bring on the wardrobe: fun skirt for confidence. However, the mental state got me down: I forgot the words to Mamma Mia.

Still, I got cast in the ensemble—back row, most of the time. I even had a stage husband and a stage child played by my real-life daughter. And 75 friends and family had already committed to coming. No pressure.

Panic-Practicing Across Ireland

Three weeks before the show, we left for a long-planned spring break in Ireland.

I was so spastic learning the choreography that I looked like an SNL parody. My body just didn’t move the way it should, and I couldn’t remember those dances to save my life. So I made the girls rehearse with me in front of castles and against rolling green hills. Nobody knew me in Ireland, so I could flail freely.

This was panic practicing at its finest.

The Universe Winks Back

I had such a rapport with my stage husband (he joked just like Alex), I forgot that I was nervous. We told everybody in Money, Money, Money, that we were the Poupon Family. You know—like the fancy mustard? They must be worth a small fortune.

That got me through everything until the day of the show. I couldn’t think of eating. But Skylar made me order lunch, and when I asked for mustard, the waiter said, just like in a commercial of our own making, “Sorry, we only have Grey Poupon.”

Later, I posted in the cast group that I was too nervous to perform and my twin would be taking my place. People actually believed it. Somewhere between that first terrified rehearsal and opening night, I’d stopped hiding and started playing again. And that’s when it hit me…

Laying That First Golden Brick

Sometimes our kids don’t give us what we expect—they give us what we need. Skylar’s dare wasn’t just a joke; it was permission to want something just for me, to risk looking foolish, to remember that I’d been brave before.

That moment was more than joining the cast of Mamma Mia!—it was laying the first golden brick on a road I didn’t even know I was building. 

That’s what traditions can do: they remind us of the parts of ourselves we thought were gone.

In 2018, Mamma Mia became more than a family show—it became my first golden brick on a road I never imagined I’d travel. Skylar dared me once, and now I’m daring you: follow the golden brick road—your tradition starts here.

Next week: What happened when I stepped on that stage? The story’s just getting started—and it gets stranger in From Fear to Center Stage: My Mamma Mia Golden Brick Road (Part 2).