Year One

Approximately one year ago (give or take 3 weeks) I began this blog. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, I just knew that my friend Stefanie Wilder-Taylor said I should. We had just met, I thought 'she's funny as hell and seems to have it together as a mom, I'll do whatever she says'. I know, that's ridiculous. In my defense I was sleep deprived, and she's pretty.

You: Dude, you are such a name dropper.
Me: I know. Sorry.

But I'm glad I did. And so I've been up here more or less consistently typing into the void of the interweb sharing my panic about this parenting thing, and my love of the tiny boy with the big head, the endless nights of sleepwalking, our shortfilm fundraising efforts which succeeded (woot!), a possible huge move out of the state (which isn't happening by the way), and the continual unfolding of realization that this choice we made to be parents just changes the whole playing field in ways I still don't fully understand.

The shockwaves run the gamut: finances, career, friendships, marriage, personal identity. For me it's been a bit extreme in such groundshaking, earthquaking ways that it looks like a crack the size of South Dakota and feels like the crushing loneliness I felt driving through that state when I was 20. I feel a little ridiculous by how thrown I am by this new life, and while it's definitely getting easier, glimmers of the existential angst remains.

But I'm here, and you know what?  It's getting better and better. It's actually turning out to be an incredibly sweet life, and the likelihood is that the darkness I've seen this year is what brought me into this light. Sure the PPD fairy left her mark, but her fairydust doesn't choke me anymore, thankfully that little beyatch is flitting about more on the periphery.

So now that I've linked my way through some highlights of the year, I'll also share some faves that are unrelated. If you've got a minute or 14, wade on through...

* Cute hubs on our anniversary
*A big creepy fight outside our house
* A lovely moment of happiness during the holidays
* Sad (long) story of my brother's journey with schizophrenia
* During the movie review phase - Away We Go
* The birth story that I wrote in SWT's class. This was Take 2.

I'll leave you with this. One of the only ways cute hubs and I made it through the year is through knowing Larry and Linda - The Untroubled Couple. They are amazing and have a beautiful way navigating the stormy waters of love. Please watch the trailer for their webseries and become a follower. You won't regret it.




Untroubled and pretty happy about it,


PS - Link count: -  14 of my past posts and 2 other sites. That's a lotta linky!

PPS - Can't leave you without one pic of the BHB. This is his sign for Light.

May I Admire You?

Dear John Hughes,

I know you don't know me, but like millions of other children of the 80's, I know you. Or actually I think it's more accurate that you knew us. Your love for us created such masterworks that elevated the 'teen movie' into a new genre worthy of much respect. Scenes from your films are sometimes mixed into my memories as if I wore bitchin' pink stuff I'd sewn myself or spent a day in detention with a hot angstee guy. I had a devastating crush on Andrew McCarthy just because you made a great choice in casting. And when I saw Gedde Watanabe at the Back Door Bakery I promise you I didn't quote his most famous character back to him, your brilliant, hilarious and now politically incorrect words like everyone else does but instead I played the part of cool neighbor as we discussed the perils of dog raising. And what a nice guy he is, by the way. But you know.

Today when I heard about your death I felt a heart-pulling-south feeling, the empty, breeze through my gut feeling I get sometimes when I think of my own father who left the planet so long ago. Tonight I grieve for your family. I grieve for your friends. I grieve for the girl who was your pen-pal when we all wanted to be.

Thank you for making the amazing films that you did. You've inspired generations of filmmakers.

Danke schoen.

With Much Admiration and Respect,

Jane

Richard Vernon: You're not fooling anyone, Bender. The next screw that falls out will be you.
John Bender: Eat my shorts.
Richard Vernon: What was that?
John Bender: Eat... My... Shorts.
Richard Vernon: You just bought yourself another Saturday.
John Bender: Ooh, I'm crushed.
Richard Vernon: You just bought one more.
John Bender: Well I'm free the Saturday after that. Beyond that, I'm going to have to check my calendar.
Richard Vernon: Good, cause it's going to be filled. We'll keep going. You want another one? Just say the word say it. Instead of going to prison you'll come here. Are you through?
John Bender: No.
Richard Vernon: I'm doing society a favor.
John Bender: So?
Richard Vernon: That's another one right now! I've got you for the rest of your natural born life if you don't watch your step. You want another one?
John Bender: Yes.
Richard Vernon: You got it! You got another one right there! That's another one pal!
Claire Standish: Cut it out!
Richard Vernon: You through?
John Bender: Not even close bud!
Richard Vernon: Good! You got one more right there!
John Bender: You really think I give a shit?
Richard Vernon: Another! You through?
John Bender: How many is that?
Brian Johnson: That's seven including when we first came in and you asked Mr. Vernon whether Barry Manilow knew that he raided his closet.
Richard Vernon: Now it's eight. You stay out of this.
Brian Johnson: Excuse me sir, it's seven.

Andrew: Why do you have to insult everybody?
John Bender: I'm being honest, asshole. I would expect you to know the difference.

Courage! Courage!

Gonna go a little Disney on you here, ready?
Why do we have the dreams we do?

Why do I dream of directing feature films that make people laugh and cry in a dark theater? (It makes me heart drop to even type that) Why should I be inflicted with this practically impossible dream that countless other saps have? Why, damn you, why~!

Medium shot: Jane crying in the rain, crane shot as we lift up and away from her as she shakes her fists at the sky.

I've often wished for a more 'normal' or realistic dream. How about becoming a Dentist? Or a Contract Lawyer? Sure these are tough professions but not freakin' insurmountable. In fact, so sweetly simple. You go to school, you get mounds of debt, you buy a shiny car with seat warmers, you buy a big-ass house, you pay off debt, you raise a couple of kids and freak out when they want to become musicians or filmmakers and do you know why? Because it's a painful, shrapnel filled road filled with disappointment, phonies and existential crisis rendering, gut-wrenching doubt.

So I'm sitting here in my rented house with the sweet, sleeping baby in the next room and the handsome husband typing in the other room (he's pounding out his novel) and my throat closes as I listen to "Title and Registration" on my itunes because this song just about sums it up for me. Dreaming, wishing - reaching and wondering. Will it happen? Or will I die with the disappointment and regret of not doing the thing that I feel somehow destined to do and simultaneously scares the shit out of me?

Ugh. I hate this post. Can you feel my angst? I can't type hard enough into this keyboard to give these words the urgent bold, italic juice that this topic requires. It all sounds so pat and obvious. But. How will I achieve this impossible dream? Cue all of those damn quotable magnets that say shit like 'whatever you dream you can do, do it, get off your ass loser' Oh wait, that's the way it rolls through my addled brain.

Or any of these others that lift my spirits and inspire me in that sparkly, otherworldly way and simultaneously piss me off to no end...



So let's summarize. I need courage, and fast. This fall my mom is going to roll into town to help us out and take care of the ankle-biter so we can shoot our short film...which is a fundraiser for our feature film. Today the husband and I met about it during nap #2 and ohmygawd even talking about it riled up my nerves. Ridiculous? Totally. I can shoot anything for anyone else any day of the week and feel no concern, but when it's the script that hubby wrote that I love, love? I'm shaking in my flip-flops.

Motherhood - Take One

So yea. I'm a mom now, it's still even creepy to say that out loud, ok type it out loud.  Let's try it again. I'm a Mom.

Eeeps! I get a little squeamish. Even though I'm 3.5 months into this new gig, I'm not in total ownership and I think it's (no offense) due in large part to the other Mommy's that I meet.

It's like anything that comes on too strong. Like flavored liquor or even the most expensive perfume, too much of a great thing is still waay too much. And Motherhood seems to bring that out in women - the desperate over-achieving passive-agressive wackadoo hovering person who was not so long ago, reasonable.

For example...
1) Do we have to talk in a voice that's 14 octaves above hearing range? My dog thinks it's neat but my ears are bleeding. This is referred to in one of the 45 parenting books that I obsessively skim on a daily basis as 'parentese' and sadly, this voice is encouraged.

2) Can we PLEASE talk about something else? Let's be clear, I am saying this to myself as well - but the discussions about cracked and elongated nipples and sleepee sleepy-by schedules and the milestones like how amazing little baby is because she looked in the same direction for 14 seconds in a row is so booring. Boring. I mean I get it, but ohmygod, let's find a new topic. Like what happened in the last half of the 30 Rock season? I dearly and desperately miss Liz Lemon.

* I'm going to take a quick break from this mean spirited sounding list to qualify myself as a much nicer person. K. Well, since I need to say that I guess you can believe what you want.

3) How about we forgo the comparisons? "How old is he? And HOW much does he weigh? Wow, you've got a big one there..." 'Cause I don't know the percentile and I don't care. Or I'll pretend I don't anyway. "Does he hold his head up yet? Oh gosh that's too bad you know my little sugarface has been holding her head up since she was born...He'll get around to it."

4) And no NO. Nope, he's not sleeping through the night. He's not even 4 months old! (Dear Jesus... I don't talk to you much but if I could just stop by and ask you to please help me through this - that would be great....thanks ever so, amen)

I guess you can say I'm a procrastinator since I've waited until my 38th year to join this club, and you'd be right. I'm a procrastinator. And it didn't really seem to bother me 'cause I was busy building my career as a Director of things. Commercials, short films, webisodes, corporate blah blah videos, whatever can be written/directed and sometimes edited for money - I'm your gal. Or was, wait -still is! It's a confusing time when identity is on the line.

And I guess that's what hurts and why I rail against the monologues of the Mommy set. Who am I now? Am I still one of the relatively rare directors with boobs (only now they produce massive amounts of milk)? How is that I used to be able to run a whole set filled with big guys and their big gear and this little tiny guy can take me out with a few short screams?

When I was pregnant, I had such swagger. I said, Aw - it will be easy. Of course I'll still work, anytime you want. I know it's a full time job, hahhaha, of course I did. Ok People magazine, here's my confession that you won't care about to print. I didn't know. I really, really, really didn't know what I was getting myself into. It's impressive how not knowing I was of what we speak. How is that such a smartee pants director lady who has had her own production company for ten years and done stuff and more stuff could enter this new phase of life so cluelessly? Well, she did.

But I must say, I do love him. He's a big-headed beauty.
 Please to enjoy a picture from the second week of his life.