As we all know, recently a weather disaster called Hurricane Sandy rocked the East Coast. New York City was devastated and my old stomping ground of the East Village was drowned. I know this because I read about it, I watched news footage, I talked to friends on the phone and I looked at people's pictures on Facebook. I wasn't there...but I kind of wish that I had been.
I was in New York City for most of the major events that the city has survived over the past decade or so. I was there on 9/11. I watched the second tower fall and the parade of ash covered Wall Streeters march uptown. I was there for the blackout and the transit strike and the blizzard that shut everything down for days and made the streets silent. It was devastating and difficult, but also it was uniting, just like Sandy seemed to be for my friends that live there now. People's Facebook posts read "We have power, and water and food. Come uptown and be safe and warm." and "Power's back on here, and I'm cooking chili. Everyone is welcome." New Yorkers have an amazing way of turning tragedy into a party, and if that sounds like I'm making light of the subject, then forgive me. I simply mean, well done, New Yorkers...and I really miss you guys.
I often fantasize about moving back to New York now that I am single. L.A., all though it is sunny, does not seem to work for my new Sexy Single Life (S.S.L.) as well as I would have hoped. You don't meet people out walking the dog in L.A. I mostly pass other people's gardeners as Jasper and I roam out suburban neighborhood. And the gardeners don't want to talk to me. They are busy gardening, for Christ sake. They don't have time to hear about the passing thoughts of a writer who mostly thinks about her dog and can't keep a plant alive.
New York seems like the perfect place for a lonely person. There are friends who meet for drinks after work, and cab drivers, and bartenders, and coffee carts, and park benches. Now, I know what you're going to say, "There are all of those things and people in L.A. too, Adrienne," but I am telling you, it is not the same! You have to drive to those park benches and add extra time for traffic, and pay for parking. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of things I love about L.A. as well, I'm just missing NYC at the moment.
My recent obsession with my S.S.L. taking place in New York is probably because my two S.S.Lifestyle role models lived in New York...Carrie Bradshaw and Liz Lemon. Two awesome writers looking for love and the path to "having it all" in the city that never sleeps. Granted, my S.S.L. is a little more Liz Lemon than it is Carrie Bradshaw. It's more writing late night and frozen pizzas in front of the tv, than Cosmos at the hot new fusion restaurant and Mr. Big, but the location is the same. No drunk driving, no paying for parking, and a revolving door of new and interesting people at all times. I also realize that they were/are characters on scripted television shows but go with me on this. Could Liz or Carrie have hacked it in L.A.? Probably not. L.A. is not for the lonely. I'm not packing my bags just yet, but it's nice to think about the escape, even if there are hurricanes and snow storms standing in my way.
In other news, I was recently asked by a FWB (friend with baby) to be the back up mom to the back up mom to her 7 month old son, Eli, in case something were to happen to her and her husband. My sister, Natalie, and her husband were named Eli's legal guardians in case of such a tragic event, but if something happens to Natalie and hubby too, well then Eli is all mine. A lot of really bad, narly stuff would have to happen first, but it's still an honor to be nominated. So, I guess, I can have it all, even in L.A.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The EX Factor
I will admit that in the past I have always disliked when people talked about their exs. I often found myself struggling to not roll my eyes when a co-worker said "my ex and I went there all the time." Or a friend said, "my ex is a Leo, so you can guess how that turned out." I always wondered, why are these people talking so much about people who are not in their lives anymore? It's not as though they were fondly reminiscing about a deceased pet or an old school mate. No, they were constantly rehashing the nuances of a failed relationship. Why? "Let it go," I would think. But now I get it. It is difficult to cut out a huge piece of your history from your daily thought process. You can walk around your house and remove all the pictures of you both when you were happy from your walls and counter tops and replace them with pictures of friends and deceased pets, but is harder to eliminate the dreaded ex's name from your stories, experiences and verbal history. You can't cut out their presence in your past experiences the way you can cut their head out of photographs. So to all those friends and co-workers who I might have rolled my eyes at (you don't know who you are), I'm sorry. I get it now, and I'm sorry.
I miss my ex-boyfriend, and since most of my memories of him and our time together are positive, he still pops up in so many of my anecdotal stories. At work, at coffee, on the phone, at the grocery store, (as I purchase another pint of ice-cream) I have to fight the urge to say, "Oh, Eric would love that." Or, "Oh, Eric DOES love that." BUT, I am doing better. As the weeks crawl by and I go to sleep and wake up alone it gets easier, just like everyone promised it would. Even Jasper (the dog) is doing better. He went through his own adjustment period after the sudden departure of his second owner. At first, he really struggled. He cried and chewed on the furniture and my shoes. He peed on the carpet...twice! When I would return home he jumped all over me and crawled on top of me. He stared into my eyes, his ears back, his tail down, his eyes wide and sad as if to say "I miss him, Adrienne! What did we do to make him leave us like this???" And I would scream, "I miss him too, Jasper! I get it! I want to pee on the carpet too, but we have to be more positive! We have to take walks and write in our journals. We can't just chew on furniture and pee on the carpet all day. This isn't healthy!"
But Jasper and his depression and anxiety have helped pull me through. I can't stay in bed all day like I sometimes want to because he makes me get up and take him out. He ensures that I get exercise and fresh air. It is delightful to come home to something that is SOOO happy to see you. And he gets me out of the house without him too. There have been a few times where I have spent an extra hour at the coffee shop writing and reading just to have an extra hour away from his needy sad eyes. That sounds bad, but look on the bright side. I got more work done!
So life goes on just like everyone promised it would, and I've started to return to my frequent visits with my friends with babies and have learned about two more friends who will join this club of mine in the coming months. I feel my life returning to normal. I feel my heart as it fills with love for these friends and these babies, I am constantly inspired by these amazing moms and dads who remind me of the many goals I want reach in my life (becoming a parent being only one of them) and I would like to thank all of my friends (with and without babies) for their love and support lately. I promise to return to posting about hilarious little kids and not about broken hearts soon. Until then, Jasper and I soldier on. Keeping our cool in this summer heat wave, trying desperately to keep it together, stay positive and above all else, not chew on the furniture.
I miss my ex-boyfriend, and since most of my memories of him and our time together are positive, he still pops up in so many of my anecdotal stories. At work, at coffee, on the phone, at the grocery store, (as I purchase another pint of ice-cream) I have to fight the urge to say, "Oh, Eric would love that." Or, "Oh, Eric DOES love that." BUT, I am doing better. As the weeks crawl by and I go to sleep and wake up alone it gets easier, just like everyone promised it would. Even Jasper (the dog) is doing better. He went through his own adjustment period after the sudden departure of his second owner. At first, he really struggled. He cried and chewed on the furniture and my shoes. He peed on the carpet...twice! When I would return home he jumped all over me and crawled on top of me. He stared into my eyes, his ears back, his tail down, his eyes wide and sad as if to say "I miss him, Adrienne! What did we do to make him leave us like this???" And I would scream, "I miss him too, Jasper! I get it! I want to pee on the carpet too, but we have to be more positive! We have to take walks and write in our journals. We can't just chew on furniture and pee on the carpet all day. This isn't healthy!"
But Jasper and his depression and anxiety have helped pull me through. I can't stay in bed all day like I sometimes want to because he makes me get up and take him out. He ensures that I get exercise and fresh air. It is delightful to come home to something that is SOOO happy to see you. And he gets me out of the house without him too. There have been a few times where I have spent an extra hour at the coffee shop writing and reading just to have an extra hour away from his needy sad eyes. That sounds bad, but look on the bright side. I got more work done!
So life goes on just like everyone promised it would, and I've started to return to my frequent visits with my friends with babies and have learned about two more friends who will join this club of mine in the coming months. I feel my life returning to normal. I feel my heart as it fills with love for these friends and these babies, I am constantly inspired by these amazing moms and dads who remind me of the many goals I want reach in my life (becoming a parent being only one of them) and I would like to thank all of my friends (with and without babies) for their love and support lately. I promise to return to posting about hilarious little kids and not about broken hearts soon. Until then, Jasper and I soldier on. Keeping our cool in this summer heat wave, trying desperately to keep it together, stay positive and above all else, not chew on the furniture.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Breaking Bad/Break-up Bad
There are a few reasons that it has been so long since my last blog post. The first is laziness/busy schedule. The second is a mild case of writers block that has involved several starts and abandonments of recent post ideas. The third is trauma and grief. That is probably the biggest. For you see, gentle readers, my boyfriend and I have broken up after four and a half years and I am sad. We had a really great relationship, but at the end of the day it came down to one thing...babies. I want them. He, it turns out, does not.
To be fair to myself, I think it is much more complicated than the basic question of whether or not to procreate, but this blog lets me self analyze myself, and I don't think it would be kind to analyze him in this format, so the story we are going with is the basic "we loved each other, we just wanted different things."This is a safe and comfortable story that has no hero and no bad guy. And our love story has no hero and no bad guy so it works and we move forward in our separate lives with this story to use when someone asks. However, life is complicated, and love is complicated and relationships are hard work and the people that you love can surprise in the best and worst ways.
But life goes on. My days are different now. When I arrive home from work sore and tired there is no one there to hug me and rub my shoulders. I have to watch Breaking Bad by myself now, a show I never would have started watching if not for him, but is now too excellent to give up. I'm Jasper's sole guardian now, his sole dog walker, poop collector, belly rubber. It's been almost a month and I still sleep on "my side" of the bed. Somehow, little 12 pound Jasper takes up the other half.
I'm very sad and emotionally erratic and everyone tells me that this is normal. My mother explained that I will experience the stages of grief. Every day, a few times a day I cycle through the stages of grief, sometimes in different orders. DENIAL, ANGER, ICE CREAM EATING (DAIRY AND NON DAIRY), WINE DRINKING, BARGAINING, DRUNK TEXTING, DEPRESSION, SOBBING TO FRIENDS, and finally, ACCEPTANCE. These are the official stages of grief. I looked them up. And sometimes a day that starts with me crying ends with me laughing and sometimes a day that starts with me laughing ends with an empty carton of Ben and Jerry's and a hangover, but that is all a part of loss, I suppose, and everyone says that I am doing really well.
The fact is that I loved my boyfriend. I still love him, very much, and if I learned anything from Sex and the City, sometimes the guy that doesn't seem right comes back in the last season and turns out to be THE GUY, so who knows what will happen in my future but I know that something will and it will feel better than I feel right now. And when I am not in the ANGER stage of grief, I am mostly nostalgic about all the great times we had together, because he really is a lovely guy (this usually leads to the DRUNK TEXTING, DEPRESSION AND SOBBING stages.) Basically, what I am trying to say is that I have no regrets (most of the time) and I hope he feels the same.
I read a quote recently that really struck me as appropriate and comforting. It read, "Sometimes you have to go all the way down a road to see where it leads, or where it ends." This may be the end of our road, but I am glad that I took the journey.
To be fair to myself, I think it is much more complicated than the basic question of whether or not to procreate, but this blog lets me self analyze myself, and I don't think it would be kind to analyze him in this format, so the story we are going with is the basic "we loved each other, we just wanted different things."This is a safe and comfortable story that has no hero and no bad guy. And our love story has no hero and no bad guy so it works and we move forward in our separate lives with this story to use when someone asks. However, life is complicated, and love is complicated and relationships are hard work and the people that you love can surprise in the best and worst ways.
But life goes on. My days are different now. When I arrive home from work sore and tired there is no one there to hug me and rub my shoulders. I have to watch Breaking Bad by myself now, a show I never would have started watching if not for him, but is now too excellent to give up. I'm Jasper's sole guardian now, his sole dog walker, poop collector, belly rubber. It's been almost a month and I still sleep on "my side" of the bed. Somehow, little 12 pound Jasper takes up the other half.
I'm very sad and emotionally erratic and everyone tells me that this is normal. My mother explained that I will experience the stages of grief. Every day, a few times a day I cycle through the stages of grief, sometimes in different orders. DENIAL, ANGER, ICE CREAM EATING (DAIRY AND NON DAIRY), WINE DRINKING, BARGAINING, DRUNK TEXTING, DEPRESSION, SOBBING TO FRIENDS, and finally, ACCEPTANCE. These are the official stages of grief. I looked them up. And sometimes a day that starts with me crying ends with me laughing and sometimes a day that starts with me laughing ends with an empty carton of Ben and Jerry's and a hangover, but that is all a part of loss, I suppose, and everyone says that I am doing really well.
The fact is that I loved my boyfriend. I still love him, very much, and if I learned anything from Sex and the City, sometimes the guy that doesn't seem right comes back in the last season and turns out to be THE GUY, so who knows what will happen in my future but I know that something will and it will feel better than I feel right now. And when I am not in the ANGER stage of grief, I am mostly nostalgic about all the great times we had together, because he really is a lovely guy (this usually leads to the DRUNK TEXTING, DEPRESSION AND SOBBING stages.) Basically, what I am trying to say is that I have no regrets (most of the time) and I hope he feels the same.
I read a quote recently that really struck me as appropriate and comforting. It read, "Sometimes you have to go all the way down a road to see where it leads, or where it ends." This may be the end of our road, but I am glad that I took the journey.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
I am woman, hear me...
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about women. I think that the assumption is that most women think about men, and visa versa, but not me. At least, not lately. No, lately, I've been thinking about women.
Dictionary.com defines "Woman" as: 1st, a female human being. 2nd, an adult female person, 3rd, a female attendant to a lady of rank, and 4th, A Wife. Merriam Webester's Dictionary definitions are roughly the same: female, servant, wife. Well, I only fit one of those definitions (two if I truly admit to myself that I am an adult) and there are times when I don't feel the least bit feminine, but at the end of the day, I am still a woman...always will be.
Thinking back, I have spent most of my formative years in environments that were heavily saturated in femalishness. Not necessarily womanhood, or femininity, and I don't want to say girlyness, but femalishness. I have only a sister, no brothers. I spent most of my youth in the art world (a pretty female dominated world at the grade-school level) and I went to an All Girls high school. I didn't play in the co-ed tee-ball league that my sister did, instead I took ballet class where we pretended we were fairies and lady bugs. I also didn't stick it out at the co-ed high school like my sister did, where the girls wore high heels to class and the boys were (in my opinion) mean and obnoxious. Instead I transferred to a world of uniforms and female literature courses. I had a ball. I learned to call my fellow classmates "ladies" instead "guys" and we wore bows in our hair. Girls walked around holding hands and kissing each other hello and goodbye on the cheeks. However, instead of being consumed with thinking about boys and thinking about what boys thought of me, I replaced these thoughts with thoughts and concerns about girls. Not in a romantic or sexual way, but in every other way you can imagine. I wondered why certain girls do things the way they do, and I worried that a certain girl wouldn't think I was pretty/smart/cool enough to sit at her lunch table. In the drama department productions of Godspell, and Little Shop of Horrors, I played Jesus and Seymour. (Those are guys, in case you aren't familiar). We young ladies had relationship spats, coupling ups, break-ups and friend crushes. It didn't exactly look like an episode of Gossip Girl or (to date myself) Dawson's Creek, but it was all the same shit, the same drama, just with a same-sex cast, and very little sex (at least not in my graduate class. 10% of the graduate class behind me ended up to be lesbian or at least bi curious, so go figure.) So it is no wonder that now, as a woman, an adult female human being, I find myself still constantly thinking about women?
My yoga teacher practices what she calls a feminine lifestyle. She worships the moon and the lunar cycle. I'm pretty sure she's prays to a Goddess and not to a God, and she uses "round feminine poses" in her practice instead of "straight, linear, male poses." I am not sure if she is a mother, but she certainly seems to like mothers, and soon to be mothers. She speaks often about fertility, and our women's bodies natural purpose to give and receive life. We are vessels, we are round and soft and feminine in her class. I find it really relaxing and empowering, but I am never sure why. What if I never become a mother? Am I less of a woman then? My brain knows that this is a ridiculous question to ask, even of myself, but I do sometimes feel that even though my formative years were steeped in the feminine mystique, I am not sure how much of a woman I have truly become. According to my yoga teacher, being a woman is to be a soft, round, vessel of life. Well, I fight being soft and round by attending yoga class and feeling guilty about eating frozen yogurt. I want to be straight and flat and have a hard yoga body (maybe I'm in the wrong class.) And as for being a vessel of life, well...give me time, bitch, give me time.
Society seems to assign different characteristics to women. I can not fit myself into a Sex and City category of woman. I'm not a Carrie (I don't own a pair of Prada anything) or a Miranda (way too cynical and hardworking) and Samantha's and Charlotte's motivations for their actions are so far removed from my experiences that I always found them utterly un-relatable yet still entertaining. In life, in the media, in the public eye woman can be sexy, smart, powerful, sensitive, crazy, jealous, kind, nurturing, weak, strong, and can have trouble with spacial reasoning. Right? Does that about sum it up? Does that sound like anyone you know...or everyone you know???
Not to over do it on the whole dictionary.com thing but a synonym for woman is lady and some synonyms for lady are babe, and bitch. Well, shit. At least I've got those covered.
Dictionary.com defines "Woman" as: 1st, a female human being. 2nd, an adult female person, 3rd, a female attendant to a lady of rank, and 4th, A Wife. Merriam Webester's Dictionary definitions are roughly the same: female, servant, wife. Well, I only fit one of those definitions (two if I truly admit to myself that I am an adult) and there are times when I don't feel the least bit feminine, but at the end of the day, I am still a woman...always will be.
Thinking back, I have spent most of my formative years in environments that were heavily saturated in femalishness. Not necessarily womanhood, or femininity, and I don't want to say girlyness, but femalishness. I have only a sister, no brothers. I spent most of my youth in the art world (a pretty female dominated world at the grade-school level) and I went to an All Girls high school. I didn't play in the co-ed tee-ball league that my sister did, instead I took ballet class where we pretended we were fairies and lady bugs. I also didn't stick it out at the co-ed high school like my sister did, where the girls wore high heels to class and the boys were (in my opinion) mean and obnoxious. Instead I transferred to a world of uniforms and female literature courses. I had a ball. I learned to call my fellow classmates "ladies" instead "guys" and we wore bows in our hair. Girls walked around holding hands and kissing each other hello and goodbye on the cheeks. However, instead of being consumed with thinking about boys and thinking about what boys thought of me, I replaced these thoughts with thoughts and concerns about girls. Not in a romantic or sexual way, but in every other way you can imagine. I wondered why certain girls do things the way they do, and I worried that a certain girl wouldn't think I was pretty/smart/cool enough to sit at her lunch table. In the drama department productions of Godspell, and Little Shop of Horrors, I played Jesus and Seymour. (Those are guys, in case you aren't familiar). We young ladies had relationship spats, coupling ups, break-ups and friend crushes. It didn't exactly look like an episode of Gossip Girl or (to date myself) Dawson's Creek, but it was all the same shit, the same drama, just with a same-sex cast, and very little sex (at least not in my graduate class. 10% of the graduate class behind me ended up to be lesbian or at least bi curious, so go figure.) So it is no wonder that now, as a woman, an adult female human being, I find myself still constantly thinking about women?
My yoga teacher practices what she calls a feminine lifestyle. She worships the moon and the lunar cycle. I'm pretty sure she's prays to a Goddess and not to a God, and she uses "round feminine poses" in her practice instead of "straight, linear, male poses." I am not sure if she is a mother, but she certainly seems to like mothers, and soon to be mothers. She speaks often about fertility, and our women's bodies natural purpose to give and receive life. We are vessels, we are round and soft and feminine in her class. I find it really relaxing and empowering, but I am never sure why. What if I never become a mother? Am I less of a woman then? My brain knows that this is a ridiculous question to ask, even of myself, but I do sometimes feel that even though my formative years were steeped in the feminine mystique, I am not sure how much of a woman I have truly become. According to my yoga teacher, being a woman is to be a soft, round, vessel of life. Well, I fight being soft and round by attending yoga class and feeling guilty about eating frozen yogurt. I want to be straight and flat and have a hard yoga body (maybe I'm in the wrong class.) And as for being a vessel of life, well...give me time, bitch, give me time.
Society seems to assign different characteristics to women. I can not fit myself into a Sex and City category of woman. I'm not a Carrie (I don't own a pair of Prada anything) or a Miranda (way too cynical and hardworking) and Samantha's and Charlotte's motivations for their actions are so far removed from my experiences that I always found them utterly un-relatable yet still entertaining. In life, in the media, in the public eye woman can be sexy, smart, powerful, sensitive, crazy, jealous, kind, nurturing, weak, strong, and can have trouble with spacial reasoning. Right? Does that about sum it up? Does that sound like anyone you know...or everyone you know???
Not to over do it on the whole dictionary.com thing but a synonym for woman is lady and some synonyms for lady are babe, and bitch. Well, shit. At least I've got those covered.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Practice Baby Part Two: Making Friends
Yesterday was Easter Sunday, but more importantly for my small household, it marked the 2 week anniversary of adopting our dog, Jasper. These past two weeks have been filled with the delights and challenges that, I assume, all new parents face. Again, I don't want to be one of those people that compares having a dog to having a child, but I'm about to so, get over it.
Like all new parents, (ugh, I'm doing it again) our lives have changed considerably in the last two weeks solely because of the addition of this small creature. I am sleeping less, worrying more and Eric and I spend countless hours recounting to each other every adorable/funny/bad thing that Jasper did when the other person wasn't looking. It's always "Baby, baby, look at him. Oh my god he just did the cutest thing." Or, "Oh my God, you won't believe what Jasper did today. You would have died." Jasper follows us around the house like he can't bare to be away from us for a minute, and gazes into our eyes like we are the best things that have ever happened to him. When we have to leave him at home, he sleeps on the steps so he can see our front door out the window and know exactly when we are coming back so he can greet us at the door with excited kisses. If he weren't so cute, I would find him a terribly annoying dog, but since he's ours, I just find him precious. And did I mention that Eric loves him? And I mean LOVES him.
Being out in the World with a dog is also a relatively new experience for me. I've been out in the World with other people's dogs and other people's babies, but this is the first time that I feel a sense of pride and well being walking around with MY OWN DOG. Until he starts to bark at a random person or dog on the sidewalk and I am flooded with guilt and worry about what I am doing wrong, and how will I ever fix this monster I've created and how, oh God, how will I ever achieve my fantasy of doggie/baby play dates with my friends if my dog barks at random people and dogs on walks??? I wanted to achieve that neighborhood friendliness where we know all the other dog owners' and dogs' names, where we stop and chat about interesting things, maybe politics, music or film. Where some cool looking lady with a cool looking dog turns out to be the Jenji Kohan and hires me (because of my adorable dog, my quick wit and my remarkable writing skills) to write on the next several seasons of Weeds (I mean, it seems like they'll never cancel that show.) But so far there's a 50/50 chance that Jasper will bark and lunge at Jenji Kohan's hypothetical dog and then she will write both Jasper and I off as amateurs and never hire us.
I know that Jasper is just shy, and has anxiety (who doesn't these days) but this barking thing is a a problem, and I am handling it by reading a lot about behavioral issues, asking other dog owners what to do and having intimate talks with Jasper about his behavior. I think this seems like good parenting. I'm always looking out for good parenting examples. I recently had the opportunity to see a lot of good parenting from some cool Hollywood parents I had the opportunity to hang out near at a Easter Party this past Saturday. Notice, I didn't say, "hang out with" I said "hang out near." That is because at this particular party Eric and I were the only couple without at least one well dressed child and so NO ONE spoke to us. No one introduced themselves, no one asked how we knew the nice couple who were hosting the Easter Egg Hunt soiree and no one asked us what the hell we were doing there with out any kids of our own. Sure, my Hollywood social anxiety induced shyness didn't help much, but we were virtually invisible to the adults at this party, so we did what we usually do, we hung out with the kids. I did notice something interesting though, these parents at the party didn't talk to each other much either. They talked to their children, they talked to their spouses, and they talked to the party hosts, but most of the communicating with other adults was through the children. I'll give you an example. Allow me to set the scene.
EXT. GARDEN- LATE MORNING
Colorfully dressed children race around a lovely and expansive Hollywood Hills backyard, complete with outdoor living room space, walled in trampoline full of laughing children and trickling fountains. A well dressed guy in his early 40's, COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD, reclines on a birch lawn chair as his beautiful blond wife and baby sit next to him on the manicured lawn. A second man, SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD, sits nearby, sipping a beer and talking with his son, SPENCER (6).
SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
Hey Spencer, what do you think of that baby there?
SPENCER
He's cute.
COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
Oh thanks. I think so too, but I'm biased. Hey, Spencer. How old are you?
SPENCER
I'm a six year old first grader. I'll be 7 soon.
SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
Wow, slow down, slow down. Stay 6 for now OK, bud.
COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
(To his infant son)
You too, buddy. Don't grow up too fast.
The two men drink and look around.
COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
(To his wife)
Do you think we should get one of our boys off the trampoline?
It's looking a little crowded.
SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
(To Spencer)
Yeah, buddy. We'll wait a few minutes to trampoline it up. OK?
FADE OUT:
Clearly these guys wanted to talk to each other about how hard it is watching one's kids grow up, and how much you want them to stay precious and little forever. But something stopped them. Was it shyness? Were they suffering from Hollywood Social Anxiety too? And is this anxiety so powerful it stops fathers from talking, even about their kids? I think women are different. We can chat about anything, and talking soly about babies and kids feels like a reasonable thing when you are mom (I assume. I talk A LOT about them and I am not a mom, so....) so was this an odd phenomenon I was experiencing at this particular party, or is this how it is in certain parental circles?
I've always assumed that children, like dogs, were a great way to network. Wait, that sounds terrible. Not network maybe, (all though, I'm obviously hoping my cute dog will land me a writing job on Weeds) but a way to socialize and meet new people that are experiencing the same things as you. Isn't that really what Dog Parks and Mommy and me classes are really for? I never assumed this was any one's reason for having children (or dogs), but just an added bonus. You get to hang out with other cool parents and talk about your kids and your lives with your kids, etc. etc. But these people seemed so focused on their kids, they were ignoring all these potential friendships. Random childless couple (Eric and I) aside, they weren't talking to each other! Their peers! I not only felt left out and sorry for myself, but I felt sorry for every one else too, on this beautiful day in a beautiful home in a beautiful city. I mean, at least the food was good and the kids had a blast!
So as I head out today with Jasper, I am going to make an effort to say hi to people, Jasper's barking be damned. I will distract Jasper with chicken flavored treats in an attempt to trick him out of whatever social anxiety he seems to be feeling when we are out for a walk (a trick I learned from my sister, by way of Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer). I will encourage both of us to make friends. Hopefully, I won't need the chicken flavored treats though.
Like all new parents, (ugh, I'm doing it again) our lives have changed considerably in the last two weeks solely because of the addition of this small creature. I am sleeping less, worrying more and Eric and I spend countless hours recounting to each other every adorable/funny/bad thing that Jasper did when the other person wasn't looking. It's always "Baby, baby, look at him. Oh my god he just did the cutest thing." Or, "Oh my God, you won't believe what Jasper did today. You would have died." Jasper follows us around the house like he can't bare to be away from us for a minute, and gazes into our eyes like we are the best things that have ever happened to him. When we have to leave him at home, he sleeps on the steps so he can see our front door out the window and know exactly when we are coming back so he can greet us at the door with excited kisses. If he weren't so cute, I would find him a terribly annoying dog, but since he's ours, I just find him precious. And did I mention that Eric loves him? And I mean LOVES him.
Being out in the World with a dog is also a relatively new experience for me. I've been out in the World with other people's dogs and other people's babies, but this is the first time that I feel a sense of pride and well being walking around with MY OWN DOG. Until he starts to bark at a random person or dog on the sidewalk and I am flooded with guilt and worry about what I am doing wrong, and how will I ever fix this monster I've created and how, oh God, how will I ever achieve my fantasy of doggie/baby play dates with my friends if my dog barks at random people and dogs on walks??? I wanted to achieve that neighborhood friendliness where we know all the other dog owners' and dogs' names, where we stop and chat about interesting things, maybe politics, music or film. Where some cool looking lady with a cool looking dog turns out to be the Jenji Kohan and hires me (because of my adorable dog, my quick wit and my remarkable writing skills) to write on the next several seasons of Weeds (I mean, it seems like they'll never cancel that show.) But so far there's a 50/50 chance that Jasper will bark and lunge at Jenji Kohan's hypothetical dog and then she will write both Jasper and I off as amateurs and never hire us.
I know that Jasper is just shy, and has anxiety (who doesn't these days) but this barking thing is a a problem, and I am handling it by reading a lot about behavioral issues, asking other dog owners what to do and having intimate talks with Jasper about his behavior. I think this seems like good parenting. I'm always looking out for good parenting examples. I recently had the opportunity to see a lot of good parenting from some cool Hollywood parents I had the opportunity to hang out near at a Easter Party this past Saturday. Notice, I didn't say, "hang out with" I said "hang out near." That is because at this particular party Eric and I were the only couple without at least one well dressed child and so NO ONE spoke to us. No one introduced themselves, no one asked how we knew the nice couple who were hosting the Easter Egg Hunt soiree and no one asked us what the hell we were doing there with out any kids of our own. Sure, my Hollywood social anxiety induced shyness didn't help much, but we were virtually invisible to the adults at this party, so we did what we usually do, we hung out with the kids. I did notice something interesting though, these parents at the party didn't talk to each other much either. They talked to their children, they talked to their spouses, and they talked to the party hosts, but most of the communicating with other adults was through the children. I'll give you an example. Allow me to set the scene.
EXT. GARDEN- LATE MORNING
Colorfully dressed children race around a lovely and expansive Hollywood Hills backyard, complete with outdoor living room space, walled in trampoline full of laughing children and trickling fountains. A well dressed guy in his early 40's, COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD, reclines on a birch lawn chair as his beautiful blond wife and baby sit next to him on the manicured lawn. A second man, SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD, sits nearby, sipping a beer and talking with his son, SPENCER (6).
SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
Hey Spencer, what do you think of that baby there?
SPENCER
He's cute.
COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
Oh thanks. I think so too, but I'm biased. Hey, Spencer. How old are you?
SPENCER
I'm a six year old first grader. I'll be 7 soon.
SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
Wow, slow down, slow down. Stay 6 for now OK, bud.
COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
(To his infant son)
You too, buddy. Don't grow up too fast.
The two men drink and look around.
COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
(To his wife)
Do you think we should get one of our boys off the trampoline?
It's looking a little crowded.
SPENCER'S COOL HOLLYWOOD DAD
(To Spencer)
Yeah, buddy. We'll wait a few minutes to trampoline it up. OK?
FADE OUT:
Clearly these guys wanted to talk to each other about how hard it is watching one's kids grow up, and how much you want them to stay precious and little forever. But something stopped them. Was it shyness? Were they suffering from Hollywood Social Anxiety too? And is this anxiety so powerful it stops fathers from talking, even about their kids? I think women are different. We can chat about anything, and talking soly about babies and kids feels like a reasonable thing when you are mom (I assume. I talk A LOT about them and I am not a mom, so....) so was this an odd phenomenon I was experiencing at this particular party, or is this how it is in certain parental circles?
I've always assumed that children, like dogs, were a great way to network. Wait, that sounds terrible. Not network maybe, (all though, I'm obviously hoping my cute dog will land me a writing job on Weeds) but a way to socialize and meet new people that are experiencing the same things as you. Isn't that really what Dog Parks and Mommy and me classes are really for? I never assumed this was any one's reason for having children (or dogs), but just an added bonus. You get to hang out with other cool parents and talk about your kids and your lives with your kids, etc. etc. But these people seemed so focused on their kids, they were ignoring all these potential friendships. Random childless couple (Eric and I) aside, they weren't talking to each other! Their peers! I not only felt left out and sorry for myself, but I felt sorry for every one else too, on this beautiful day in a beautiful home in a beautiful city. I mean, at least the food was good and the kids had a blast!
So as I head out today with Jasper, I am going to make an effort to say hi to people, Jasper's barking be damned. I will distract Jasper with chicken flavored treats in an attempt to trick him out of whatever social anxiety he seems to be feeling when we are out for a walk (a trick I learned from my sister, by way of Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer). I will encourage both of us to make friends. Hopefully, I won't need the chicken flavored treats though.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Practice Baby Part One: Adopting a Dog
If you'll remember back to an earlier blog post about my new years resolutions, one of them was to get a dog. Well, friends (with and without babies), we are doing it! After exhaustive searches on the internet, at the Burbank Animal Shelter and at many rescue organizations, E and I have found our little guy. We pick him up today. He is about 3 years old, he has white curly hair, and...that is about all we know about him. We are, however, going to invite him to live in our house with us, and sleep in our bed. Now normally, I would think this type of behavior is Crazy (with a capitol C.)
Not to be one of those people that compares their pets to other people's children, but let's be real here friends, a big part of adopting this dog is to experience, what I like to call, the Practice Baby scenario. As I've mentioned before, E and I have done a fair amount of "practice parenting" before, so this is just taking it to the next level. I'm pretty excited about this. However...the other night I found myself lying in bed until the wee hours of the morning having a minor to major anxiety attack. Was the attacked being caused by the anxiety I feel about having a dog of our very own, or about all the other stressful things in my life? We'll never know...except that I do know. I know that it was primarily about the dog.
Dogs are a lot of work. This I know because, just as I have been a babysitter, I have been a doggy sitter many times. I also had dogs as a kid and have lived with dogs as an adult. But this is the first time that Eric and I will be on a joint venture this serious. We've discussed it, we made lists, we went and met all the perspective dogs together, choosing this particular dog because his doggy personality was in line with our desires. We have planned this as well as someone can plan adopting a dog. And I'm still anxious about it. How will I ever deal with kids?!
I'm pretty sure the answer to that question is that you just deal with it. You deal with the lack of sleep, you deal with the changes to your social life, finances and even to your body. You adjust because the over powering love you feel towards that child makes it all a non issue. If the movie "Friends With Kids" taught me anything other than (SPOILER ALERT) if you have a baby with your best friend it WILL all work out, it taught me that the overpowering love you feel towards your baby makes ALL CHANGES totally worth it. I'm hoping that the sweet, strange, stray, animal I have just invited in to my bed will make me feel the same way. At least I got a brief written synopsis of this doggy's history on adoptapet.com, and spent 45 minutes with him before we extended him the invite to become our P.B. That's more than most couples get with their babies, right?
Not to be one of those people that compares their pets to other people's children, but let's be real here friends, a big part of adopting this dog is to experience, what I like to call, the Practice Baby scenario. As I've mentioned before, E and I have done a fair amount of "practice parenting" before, so this is just taking it to the next level. I'm pretty excited about this. However...the other night I found myself lying in bed until the wee hours of the morning having a minor to major anxiety attack. Was the attacked being caused by the anxiety I feel about having a dog of our very own, or about all the other stressful things in my life? We'll never know...except that I do know. I know that it was primarily about the dog.
Dogs are a lot of work. This I know because, just as I have been a babysitter, I have been a doggy sitter many times. I also had dogs as a kid and have lived with dogs as an adult. But this is the first time that Eric and I will be on a joint venture this serious. We've discussed it, we made lists, we went and met all the perspective dogs together, choosing this particular dog because his doggy personality was in line with our desires. We have planned this as well as someone can plan adopting a dog. And I'm still anxious about it. How will I ever deal with kids?!
I'm pretty sure the answer to that question is that you just deal with it. You deal with the lack of sleep, you deal with the changes to your social life, finances and even to your body. You adjust because the over powering love you feel towards that child makes it all a non issue. If the movie "Friends With Kids" taught me anything other than (SPOILER ALERT) if you have a baby with your best friend it WILL all work out, it taught me that the overpowering love you feel towards your baby makes ALL CHANGES totally worth it. I'm hoping that the sweet, strange, stray, animal I have just invited in to my bed will make me feel the same way. At least I got a brief written synopsis of this doggy's history on adoptapet.com, and spent 45 minutes with him before we extended him the invite to become our P.B. That's more than most couples get with their babies, right?
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Dinner Party Advice
Well friends. I am officially OLD. My birthday last week confirmed my increasing suspicions that I was getting old, and now I am sure. What are some of the signs of aging that I have witnessed in myself? I find myself falling asleep in bed, sitting up, glasses on, still holding my book in the "I'm just resting my eyes," fashion that I often catch my mother in (she's old too.) I am finding an alarming amount of blond hairs (let's face it, they are not blond. For the last time, Adrienne, you will never be blond!) and the last straw is that I can't hold my alcohol. I can't seem to exceed the 2 drink minimum of any good social event without spending the next day somewhere between sluggishness and agony. The only consolation is that I don't let the threat of being hung over stop me enough, and that seems like a sign of immaturity, not old age, so at least I still have that going for me.
In honor of said "OLD" birthday, some lovely friends came over to my house for a dinner party in which they all cooked me dinner. If you don't already know this about me, I love dinner parties. If you are thinking about having one, please invite me. I will show up with great wine and sparkling conversation, or sparkling wine and great conversation. I will even do some of the cooking. A lovely dinner party definitely softens the blow of getting old, and being unmarried and childless.
Many of the guests at this dinner party were also "old" or at least, "oldish" and many of them were married and chidfull, so the conversation quickly became about babies; a subject I love. If you don't already know this about me, I love babies, almost as much as I love dinner parties. First we talked about whether or not these FWB (friend's with babies) felt ready and prepared when their children were born, then we talked about what it's like to have 1 year olds, and then the conversation shifted a little when advice started being issued to the childless couple in the room, i.e. Eric and myself. This advice was not unsolicited. I asked for it. I'm always asking for advice. The advice was as follows; "Just go for it" "You are never really ready" and "There's never a GOOD time.""It's the greatest feeling you'll ever have" and my favorite, "you have a duty as Democrats to procreate." But then Eric posed the question of responsibility in a world so fraught with destruction, global warming, autism and bad parenting. "Is it irresponsible to bring a person into the World when you know that the World and/or you are inevitably going to screw them up?" Eric asked. The FWBs all had an opinion on that, and more advice followed. Books we could read etc. It was all very interesting and I wish I remembered more but as I mentioned before, I has exceeded my two drink maximum and parts of the evening are a blur.
But it did get me thinking about advice. I always ask the advice of others, whether I know them to be more qualified or not. When a friend of mine had a baby a couple of years ago, and because I had been a Nanny she asked my advice constantly in the beginning, but now, not so much. She's confident that she is the expert on her own kid, as she should be. I have had a harder time taking that leap of faith with myself. I am constantly asking advice from people. My mother, sister, friends, boyfriend, the Media. "Should I talk to my Boss about the incident the other day?" I ask, or "Should I just bite the bullet and buy the ticket to New York for the weekend?" "Should I wear a dress or pant?" I don't always take the advice (see my mother's advice to write a letter to Oprah) but I ask it all the same. I still, even at my advanced age, don't trust myself to know what is best for me. "Is this normal?" I wonder.
A day after the dinner party, I found myself in the chair of a quirky hair stylist who was born in Iran, grew up in Paris and has lived in New York and Los Angeles. I got a discount on Lifebooker! Never Pay Full Price (NPFP.) And as she applied partially toxic chemicals to my hair to cover the blonds, I told her about the party the night before. She told me that drinking alcohol isn't good for you because it "gives you estrogen. Too much estrogen gives you breast cancer, so it's no good. And that is why when guys get drunk, they act so effeminate, yes? And why gay guys act even more gay. So no more wine for you, yes? Just one glass a week." I nodded. That's what you do when someone gives you advice you are not sure what to do with. I've been meaning to look that estrogen thing up, I'll do it right after I open this bottle of Pinot. At least there is some advice I have got the better of.
In honor of said "OLD" birthday, some lovely friends came over to my house for a dinner party in which they all cooked me dinner. If you don't already know this about me, I love dinner parties. If you are thinking about having one, please invite me. I will show up with great wine and sparkling conversation, or sparkling wine and great conversation. I will even do some of the cooking. A lovely dinner party definitely softens the blow of getting old, and being unmarried and childless.
Many of the guests at this dinner party were also "old" or at least, "oldish" and many of them were married and chidfull, so the conversation quickly became about babies; a subject I love. If you don't already know this about me, I love babies, almost as much as I love dinner parties. First we talked about whether or not these FWB (friend's with babies) felt ready and prepared when their children were born, then we talked about what it's like to have 1 year olds, and then the conversation shifted a little when advice started being issued to the childless couple in the room, i.e. Eric and myself. This advice was not unsolicited. I asked for it. I'm always asking for advice. The advice was as follows; "Just go for it" "You are never really ready" and "There's never a GOOD time.""It's the greatest feeling you'll ever have" and my favorite, "you have a duty as Democrats to procreate." But then Eric posed the question of responsibility in a world so fraught with destruction, global warming, autism and bad parenting. "Is it irresponsible to bring a person into the World when you know that the World and/or you are inevitably going to screw them up?" Eric asked. The FWBs all had an opinion on that, and more advice followed. Books we could read etc. It was all very interesting and I wish I remembered more but as I mentioned before, I has exceeded my two drink maximum and parts of the evening are a blur.
But it did get me thinking about advice. I always ask the advice of others, whether I know them to be more qualified or not. When a friend of mine had a baby a couple of years ago, and because I had been a Nanny she asked my advice constantly in the beginning, but now, not so much. She's confident that she is the expert on her own kid, as she should be. I have had a harder time taking that leap of faith with myself. I am constantly asking advice from people. My mother, sister, friends, boyfriend, the Media. "Should I talk to my Boss about the incident the other day?" I ask, or "Should I just bite the bullet and buy the ticket to New York for the weekend?" "Should I wear a dress or pant?" I don't always take the advice (see my mother's advice to write a letter to Oprah) but I ask it all the same. I still, even at my advanced age, don't trust myself to know what is best for me. "Is this normal?" I wonder.
A day after the dinner party, I found myself in the chair of a quirky hair stylist who was born in Iran, grew up in Paris and has lived in New York and Los Angeles. I got a discount on Lifebooker! Never Pay Full Price (NPFP.) And as she applied partially toxic chemicals to my hair to cover the blonds, I told her about the party the night before. She told me that drinking alcohol isn't good for you because it "gives you estrogen. Too much estrogen gives you breast cancer, so it's no good. And that is why when guys get drunk, they act so effeminate, yes? And why gay guys act even more gay. So no more wine for you, yes? Just one glass a week." I nodded. That's what you do when someone gives you advice you are not sure what to do with. I've been meaning to look that estrogen thing up, I'll do it right after I open this bottle of Pinot. At least there is some advice I have got the better of.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)