‘So That’s What the Moms Were Doing’ @ Mainstage Irving 222
—Jan Farrington
CATHERINE: Amelia got her learner’s permit….but then Jim put his foot down. He said Amelia wouldn’t be driving his car until she learned to come to a complete stop without running into something….
KELLY: Birdie, you said you have security footage of the kids putting bras on your statue, couldn’t you just check it to see who put the spaceship on your lawn?….[Yelling out doorway] Austin! Austin Young, you get away from that boob-less spaceship right now!
Let me ask you: Do these two quotes belong in the same play?
If you think not, you’ll be onto the main reason I found Caren Spain’s new play so pleasantly offbeat and unexpected. The ingredients don’t seem to go together—but all the same, the mash-up is pretty darned funny. The dialogue is delivered frequently in a deadpan, just-an-ordinary-day tone (though I’ll add that the cast needs to put more volume behind the lines!); but if you listen, what’s being said gets weirder and weirder.
Running at Mainstage Irving’s downtown venue (222 E. Irving Blvd., not the mainstage location), So That’s What the Moms Were Doing begins with a cluster of suburban neighborhood friends (old and new) gathering around a kitchen table, apparently to hash out a “calamity” or two from the last block party.
Hostess Catherine (Bri McKay), dressed in bathrobe and “mom slob” clothes, can barely make it to a chair. Capable friends Anna May (Cammy Lee) and Birdie (Priscilla Garcia) come in bearing booze (oops, the same bottle of wine), and just-moved-in golf instructor Kelly (Ashley Zamberlan) is the last to knock at the door.
Writer/director Spain lets the story unfold in sideways remarks and loopy revelations. It seems like “normal”—kids running around, busy with games and toys—and the Moms are focused on sorting out kid problems, like who’s going to “win” rights to the treehouse this summer, boys or girls? These long-time residents have given up “helicopter” parenting, urging newbie Kelly to take a “free-range” attitude toward the offstage band of kids. Most summers, this would work out fine. But this time….
Spain’s dialogue style has a dry humor that sneaks up on us, as we begin to sense the Moms aren’t simply going through the usual mid-life stuff: straying husbands, kids keeping secrets (not always safe ones), loneliness, boredom. There’s something up, and when omebody says “What lizards?” this little world tilts a bit.
The Moms compare notes that don’t quite match: Are these cute little geckos, or larger lizards, or sizeable iguana-type things? The question of who’s going to keep the lizards (they’re currently in an empty aquarium) fades away to How Big are these things going to get—and are the kids safe out there? Kelly’s son Austin claims the art work/spaceship on Birdie’s lawn is making more of the critters…and he’s the only one small enough to get in there for a look.
“Why did I move here?” Kelly asks in a moment of clarity.
And that’s about all I’ll tell you of the plot. Buy a ticket, and come in from the heat for an inn-teresting 90 minutes, why don’t you?
The cast members use Spain’s lively script to create vivid portraits onstage: McKay’s Catherine has a numb, shell-shocked look about her; she trails aimlessly around a house that looks more busted-up than just messy. (Why is her son breaking up the chairs?) She’s barely functioning, her husband’s a no-show lately, and her friends are clearly coming over to see if they can help. Lee’s Anna May is chirpy and cheerful, but surprises us early on with an observation that seems out of her wheelhouse. (Anna May, turns out, has mad skills that could come in handy.) Zamberlan’s Kelly, being new, keeps her opinions to herself, but not for long—and she’s watching her son like a hawk.
Garcia’s Birdie has lived here forever; she seems to be the semi-official mayor of the neighborhood, with almost-grown kids at home, and plenty of her own art installations on the lawn. She’s never at rest, banging in and out of the screen door to check on the kids, organizing the others for upcoming social events—and she’s the first to start making “tools” for the developing lizard situation. Fierce, that’s Birdie, and Garcia’s sharp eyes and quick speech keep us watching her for clues to what-the-heck is happening. (And again, more volume in some of the dialogue would help too.)
We never get a look at the front-yard action—but can tell plenty from the offstage yells, orders, clangs, and reports. So That’s What The Moms Were Doing is a little bit ET, a little bit Twilight Zone (but funnier), and a little bit Our-Moms-Show-What-They’re-Made-Of.
What it is, definitely, is a hoot.
WHEN: August 21-29, 2026
WHERE: 222 E. Irving Blvd., Irving TX
WEB: https://mainstageirving.com/mainstage-222/
