The movie cast a spell over the people, my people, and surprisingly me.  What is happening? It started Thursday night.  An email blast went to some moms for the matinee on Monday.  I cleared everything on my calendar to go. This is a blog lead, I justify to myself.  I am never the flake.  This is not me, it’s the fever.

At Saturday’s Little League game I glob on to the conversation in the bleachers about THE box office opening:  “Are you going to the movie? Did you read the book first?  Did your kids read the book?”  Yes. Yes. And of course!

Sunday morning, I sit in the church pew, looking for solitude and reflection.  “Anyone know Katniss Everdeen?”  What?  Is this the opening line to the sermon?  Wow!  My heart is racing. Even the minister is affected! I’m all ears.  I even sit up straight as if he’s talking only to me. He rides the pop culture wave to drive home the point, good over evil, good always the winner.  How cool or smart is this guy?  He knows how to amp the ratings and the reception.

District

I sit in the pedicure chair, soothing my other sole(s).  I’m half way into book two of the trilogy Catching Fire.  I’m so engrossed, I don’t squirm as my feet are sanded down, a ticklish and disturbing process.  So deep am I into District 12, I don’t really notice the two ladies next to me, only their presence. They are from my neighborhood and they too, are all a-chatter about “the games.” I cannot escape.  This is more pandemic than Bieber fever!  I am thirteen again and so is everyone around me.I drive in my car, shuttling my boys, separately, to the theatre.  Seeing the movie over the weekend was all consuming for my kids and for me for my kids. My eleven-year-old was determined to see to the movie toot sweet.  Under normal circumstances, I would never fall to such royal service for my boys. Burning up with Hunger Games fever, I bought into the obsession.  I understood this drive, or daresay hunger.  Flying emails and fast phone calls got my son and a friend in before baseball practice.  One down, two to go.My older son is texting from the highway back from snow camping, “Can I go to the 3:45 show?”  But of course, says delirious mom.  But the supplies trailer was late and he couldn’t go in his snowsuit.  Mom raced to the rescue. “Bring me some shorts, especially socks. And my Vans!”  He cares?  I pick him up, leaving Dad behind to collect the camping gear. The car is engulfed with the smell of campfire smoke and I have to open the window.  “Mom, do you have any perfume?  Anything?  I stink.”  He has the fever too. He would never ask to smell like a girl otherwise.  Within minutes, one fashion-clad camper is dropped off just in time. Two down and one to go.With each post movie pick-up, I demand to know:  “Was it good?  Did it follow the book?”  My kids cannot speak fast enough.  I am crushed when they tell me it’s not that great.  No!  The lead actress said she wouldn’t do the part if it didn’t live up to the book.  I read EVERYTHING I could to learn about the making of the movie, including BUYING the People magazine and not just sneaking a peak in line at Safeway.  This is sick!I listen hard to what they are saying.  “The cornucopia is so big and it’s bumpy!”  “Peeta is way too muscly and he heals too fast.”  All the stuff that didn’t fit their imagination in the movie, fell flat for them.  “And the mockingjay pin story didn’t happen like that at all in the book!”  It felt like a lie to them.  Darn it.  Isn’t that the way with books vs. movies?My fever dipped after the first round of movie reports. Come Monday, for yet a third time, I burn a path from home to theatre in less than 24 hours. But this trip is for me.  I enter the movie-mania domain.  I arrive to find a bank of moms filling the front row of the tiered seats.  One space saved for me, in the middle.  The previews are starting. “Climb over the railing!  Quick!  I’ll hold your purse!”  I have never stood on a movie seat nor hopped a railing in my life. And a fellow mom, concerned for my viewing, commanded me to do so.  Clearly I am not myself nor is she, her movie-etiquette self.  I’m swimming with giddiness and excitement with my friends.  The movie begins and we are silent and unmoving for a fast two-and-half hours, except a few startling or haunting scenes.  Three down and I am done for those on my watch.

Moms are In!

We moms loved the movie.  A flurry of emails ensued afterward.  Moms that hadn’t read the book yet are booking their spring break plans with The Hunger Games.  One dove in all the way and got all three books, and two sets to boot to prevent familial fighting.  The fever makes one territorial. I can really relate. (“Guys!  Where’s Book Two!?”  “Oh, you mean the one you bought for me mom?” “Yeah, the one with my book mark in it!”) Luckily homework abounds or we’d have three sets at our house.  Some moms are hankering to re-read the story.  And yet-to-see movie moms, are just sick some of us saw it already. I’m coming down from my high, thankfully.  Or I’d probably start braiding my hair to the side or something. Hunting my own food. I know some of the story is tough, especially for parents.  But the common bond formed amongst moms, kids, kids and parents, kids and grandparents is a fever we can live with and appreciate.  I still can’t bond over rap star Lil’ Wayne.  I’ll take the family book club. I was wondering if there could be anything to replace Harry Potter, the first family book and movie club we had at our house.  The Hunger Games more than delivered.