Just call me M&M or P. Doody.  I’m the next Yo’ Ma-Ma-Donna, Lady Cerebellum, or Ice-Cream.

Erykah Fru-Fru,* Afro Queen, Knee-Knee, Chardonnay Pleaze, Unleash My Keys, Ja Skool, Lil’ Sin, Sit-on-This, Jelly, Tina Tuna, Clean MiTeetha.

I’m in a musical way, lately, and I’m working on some projects worth celebrating. Unbeknownst to my husband (who won’t read this since he doesn’t use the Internet in his spare time), I’m planning a large party this summer, celebrating his completion of the Appalachian Trail after 30 years of hiking. That’s, “2,122 miles he has traveled; 2,122 miles along the way.” (“Seasons of Love” from Rent.)

Our friends will be able to “Look at me, the Widow AT, filled to the brim with my mi-ser-y. I’m all alone and there’s no one at home, just call me the Widow AT!” (Sung to “Sandra Dee” from Grease.) Those same friends will back me up on “Summer Nights.”  “Summer hikin,’ having some fu-un, Summer hikin,’ pleasure for wa-one, Met a boy crazy for this, Met a man, I couldn’t miss…”

We’ll croon to “Climb Every Mountain,” “Rocky Mountain High,” and “Take It Easy.” Of course, what would a party be without the “12 Days of Climbing,” sung to the “12 Days of Christmas,” complete with nine freeze-dried suppers, eight starry nights, seven pussy blisters, six sweaty headbands, five days of rain (you get the gist)!

On the midlife motherhood front (another quiet project) we’re conceptualizing how “Being Lost” without a baby created “Being Found.” And, images of Mrs. Hannigan from “Annie,” gave me the zinger for a gutsy Midlife Mama.

Of course, I’ve been rapping to my children for years. Feel free to listen: “I’m a red hot mama and I’m here to say, that mid-life motherhood is here to stay.  I’m cool and I’m neat and I’m sweet and I’m pretty, so don’t you be saying anything too sh-ty. I’m  “mama” to my kids and a Mother to you, but you know what I think you that you all should do. I say, kiss my a-s, and call me Queen, ‘cause I’m the next generation and a dancin’ machine. Uh-huh, Uh-huh. So, to all of you, my story’s about to end, I’ll sign off now.  See you next time, my friend.”

The next time you dismiss me as just one (older?) woman in a very large crowd, think again, ‘cause you’ll easily find me – I’ll be the one hip-hopping and singing at the top of my lungs… loudly…

*What my kids call my hair.