Hahahaha! I am the worst blogger EVER! I have all you ladies to look up to and emulate, and yet I never get around to it - I've always been the most incredible procrastinator. I wrote both of my 30-40 page thesis projects the night before they were due... golly, I hope Ella can learn from all her aunties rather than her mommy about the importance of keeping up on homework. Perhaps if I didn't spend so much time reading Crysi's blog, I'd get more done... HAHAHA...
Wow, I felt pretty bummed there for a while there. And when you use a word like "bummed," it's hard to be taken seriously, isn't it? Haha :). California talk has infiltrated my formerly excellent vocabulary...
But really, what was THAT about? I hope I don't go there again for a while. I think it was in the water out here - my Nita wasn't doing so hot either. I mean, she IS hot, but not feeling it. Plus there was the whole miserable cold thing - just had the blahs. The blah blah BLAHS.
The only bright spot was my little monster! Which is quickly becoming her regular nickname. Rotten princess. Tiny monster. Meanie. All said with love and pride!
For anyone who couldn't hear me crowing from the boards, Ella pulled herself into a sit two days ago, and then crawled yesterday! I expect her to be walking by tomorrow. We don't abide by no laziness' round here...
Gotta feed the monster. Boob and oatmeal - YUM...
Friday, September 28, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
well here we all are!
My favorite ladies, sans one, are here now - and that's a good thing :). What was the point of a blog to myself? I already know my own neurosis pretty well without documenting them!
I am tired. My baby is snuffly and wouldn't sleep, so I didn't sleep, and now she's napping and I am just not a napper. So instead I'm here feeling sorry for my self and not getting to go BF Group or even shop for baby clothes (which ALWAYS cheers me up!). But I think it's important to keep her in and quiet and warm for the day. To knock this cold right out of her.
I'm slow to choose drugs (nowdays anyhow...shhh...) to mask sickness - I want her to make anti-bodies and build up a strong immune system. So we will just deal with it. Damn, I could use a bloody mary... AMY, SOME HELP?
It's such beautiful day, how can it possibly feel so dull?
I am tired. My baby is snuffly and wouldn't sleep, so I didn't sleep, and now she's napping and I am just not a napper. So instead I'm here feeling sorry for my self and not getting to go BF Group or even shop for baby clothes (which ALWAYS cheers me up!). But I think it's important to keep her in and quiet and warm for the day. To knock this cold right out of her.
I'm slow to choose drugs (nowdays anyhow...shhh...) to mask sickness - I want her to make anti-bodies and build up a strong immune system. So we will just deal with it. Damn, I could use a bloody mary... AMY, SOME HELP?
It's such beautiful day, how can it possibly feel so dull?
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
hahahahaha... Okay, clearly I know very little about this blog business, because I had NO IDEA this blog could be found without my having TOLD anyone! So far, the two folks that have found it are the two I actually might have told on purpose - so that's a good thing :). Annie, my good friend and movie buddy, and Amy, the far-away mommy I wish lived here most...
I gotta figure out how this works. Or maybe I'll just continue to assume it's just the three of us here. Ignorance is bliss...
I used to hate that saying. But the older I get, the more true it seems. Truly ignorant people DO seem happier, on the whole. The simplicity of a life without introspection... ahhh, the relaxation that must provide. I think I'd get a lot more sleep.
Amy, I hope I don't disappoint you with negativity! I'm generally positive, and try to present that face pretty contually for the other mommies - a lot of them have enough trouble handling their own emotions, without the burden of mine. But I'm not when I'm alone. I wasn't lst night, anyway. You are such a support to me - I don't wanna take advantage of that.
And Annie, you are an excellent writer. And I stopped writing years ago. So I'm gonna be self-concious a bit... You know what else you are? An excellent mom. I wish you wouldn't second guess yourself all the time.
I'm ignoring my baby. I ws right on the edge of not being able to keep it together last night. Almost dropped my basket. But I'm a tough girl. So here I am.
Next time...
I gotta figure out how this works. Or maybe I'll just continue to assume it's just the three of us here. Ignorance is bliss...
I used to hate that saying. But the older I get, the more true it seems. Truly ignorant people DO seem happier, on the whole. The simplicity of a life without introspection... ahhh, the relaxation that must provide. I think I'd get a lot more sleep.
Amy, I hope I don't disappoint you with negativity! I'm generally positive, and try to present that face pretty contually for the other mommies - a lot of them have enough trouble handling their own emotions, without the burden of mine. But I'm not when I'm alone. I wasn't lst night, anyway. You are such a support to me - I don't wanna take advantage of that.
And Annie, you are an excellent writer. And I stopped writing years ago. So I'm gonna be self-concious a bit... You know what else you are? An excellent mom. I wish you wouldn't second guess yourself all the time.
I'm ignoring my baby. I ws right on the edge of not being able to keep it together last night. Almost dropped my basket. But I'm a tough girl. So here I am.
Next time...
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
9/11
It's the anniversary.
I just posted what that day was like on my March Mommies message board, and thought I'd repost it for myself here. Since I don't really plan to leak this address to anyone. And rereading it means something to me. I changed a lot that day. Still am, I think.
9/11: I talked to Jess about this once, but here it is for y’all. That was a very bad day for me. I know – it was bad all around. But… yikes.
On the West Coast a lot of folks missed it all, due to the time difference. I didn’t. I was shooting a movie (a very tiny part in Rules Of Attraction) so I was in my car by 5 or so in the morning. I was listening to a morning radio show – one that was very funny and very irreverent and never serious. As I pulled away from our apartment complex I heard them commenting on a “joke” they were watching on television – one of the WTC towers had blown up, hit by an airplane, and they thought it was a fairly tasteless computer-generated image. As I drove to the set, I listened to them argue over the possible reality of it, then heard the horror as the news was confirmed, and then the panic as the second tower came down. I called Matt, woke him up and told him to turn on the TV. I was just reaching work when I heard what I realized I was waiting to hear – the Pentagon was attacked. They weren’t sure of the details. Matt told me to turn around and come home. I couldn’t – I needed to get to a television.
My father is a Major General in the US Army. I grew up all over America and in Europe – California is not really my home. I spent several years as a child in Virginia, while my dad worked at the White House, on the Hill, and at the Pentagon. They moved back there when I was in college, and remain there still. My family is intimate with so many Pentagon families, and has been for as long as I can remember. On that day, my mother had come out west to be in surgery with my grandmother. My brother’s were both in other towns. My baby sister – 12 at the time? – was alone in school just outside DC. My father was supposed to be at work. In the Pentagon.
I raced from my Jeep onto set and begged for a TV. The director told me to get into wardrobe. Another actor (his family is in New York) pulled me to the caterer’s van, where the caterer let us hide inside and watch his little television. I got in there just in time to see an airplane fly through my father’s office.
Does anyone remember that image? Everyone remembers the towers. But the Pentagon got passed over a bit in the aftermath – it should have, I guess. It’s the job of everyone working there to defend liberty, at their own peril, sometimes. But it’s the only image I really do remember, because ever since I was a kid I have visited my daddy at his office, directly under the helopad. And that is where I watched that plane crash. Directly into Dad’s window.
I don’t think I cried then. I got up and went to the director. He told me I couldn’t leave because they’d have to reshoot my scene with another actress and it would cost too much. I don’t think I said anything. The 1rst Assistant Director said, “She’s leaving.” The guy with family in New York walked me to my car. We hugged, and wished each other good luck in finding our families. I never saw him again. And I left.
I got home. Matt had borrowed a pack of cigarettes for me and opened a bottle of wine. At 8 in the morning, I sat on my couch and drank and smoked inside and tried to get through to ANYONE at home. My mom couldn’t reach anyone either. My sister’s school was evacuating – they had let the children watch it all happen, and my sister saw the same thing I saw, and was alone and being sent home to an empty house. My brothers were frantic, and no one could find my dad. It was the second time in my life I have felt completely helpless, completely without the ability to save myself. It was three hours before we heard any news.
Apparently, unbeknownst to me, my dad had moved out of his office just weeks before, for a final remodeling. He had been working across the river. He was set to move back in a few days before the 11th, but a higher-ranking general asked to have his office. He complied. That morning he was on the freeway, heading to that office to meet with that General – whose children we know – about the office switch. He saw the plane from the road. My father, who is ALWAYS on time, was late for his meeting.
When he did reach the Pentagon, he was immediately rushed underground with other high-ranking officials. He had no cell reception from the bunker. When he finally could get a land line, he called my mother. And the horror stilled, finally. Remained, but stilled.
When I could walk – fear like that takes something out of you – I remember going outside, alone. And it was so strange, how quiet this city was. Los Angeles is never quiet, but that day nothing stirred. I don’t even remember hearing birds, but that might have just been my brain. I passed a stairway at Warner Brother’s Studios, and these two grown men were arguing. One was in tears. They were arguing about work, and I wanted to say “Don’t you understand how the world has changed today?” But I didn’t. And I think it was their fear of the change that must have prompted that argument.
The craziest thing about it all, for me personally, is how it seemed the universe tried to save my dad. I guess that’s weird, to all you normal folks out there. But he was moved after years of being in that office. He insisted on completing his work at the Pentagon anyway. Then the other General took his office. He still insisted on going back to work it all out. So my punctual father was inexplicably held up – and saved a third time by a gracious God. If you knew my dad, you’d understand why. This world is a far grander, far more honorable, far kinder place with him in it.
So that’s my super-long story. I’ve been to the 9/11 memorial in the Pentagon, as I’m sure Jess’s mom has. It’s so sad – we knew so many people who were never even found. And the selfish part of it all is that as sad as that is and as hard as it was, it was NOTHING compared to the relief that drowned me when I got my mother’s call.
Love y’all – have a warm and safe anniversary…
I just posted what that day was like on my March Mommies message board, and thought I'd repost it for myself here. Since I don't really plan to leak this address to anyone. And rereading it means something to me. I changed a lot that day. Still am, I think.
9/11: I talked to Jess about this once, but here it is for y’all. That was a very bad day for me. I know – it was bad all around. But… yikes.
On the West Coast a lot of folks missed it all, due to the time difference. I didn’t. I was shooting a movie (a very tiny part in Rules Of Attraction) so I was in my car by 5 or so in the morning. I was listening to a morning radio show – one that was very funny and very irreverent and never serious. As I pulled away from our apartment complex I heard them commenting on a “joke” they were watching on television – one of the WTC towers had blown up, hit by an airplane, and they thought it was a fairly tasteless computer-generated image. As I drove to the set, I listened to them argue over the possible reality of it, then heard the horror as the news was confirmed, and then the panic as the second tower came down. I called Matt, woke him up and told him to turn on the TV. I was just reaching work when I heard what I realized I was waiting to hear – the Pentagon was attacked. They weren’t sure of the details. Matt told me to turn around and come home. I couldn’t – I needed to get to a television.
My father is a Major General in the US Army. I grew up all over America and in Europe – California is not really my home. I spent several years as a child in Virginia, while my dad worked at the White House, on the Hill, and at the Pentagon. They moved back there when I was in college, and remain there still. My family is intimate with so many Pentagon families, and has been for as long as I can remember. On that day, my mother had come out west to be in surgery with my grandmother. My brother’s were both in other towns. My baby sister – 12 at the time? – was alone in school just outside DC. My father was supposed to be at work. In the Pentagon.
I raced from my Jeep onto set and begged for a TV. The director told me to get into wardrobe. Another actor (his family is in New York) pulled me to the caterer’s van, where the caterer let us hide inside and watch his little television. I got in there just in time to see an airplane fly through my father’s office.
Does anyone remember that image? Everyone remembers the towers. But the Pentagon got passed over a bit in the aftermath – it should have, I guess. It’s the job of everyone working there to defend liberty, at their own peril, sometimes. But it’s the only image I really do remember, because ever since I was a kid I have visited my daddy at his office, directly under the helopad. And that is where I watched that plane crash. Directly into Dad’s window.
I don’t think I cried then. I got up and went to the director. He told me I couldn’t leave because they’d have to reshoot my scene with another actress and it would cost too much. I don’t think I said anything. The 1rst Assistant Director said, “She’s leaving.” The guy with family in New York walked me to my car. We hugged, and wished each other good luck in finding our families. I never saw him again. And I left.
I got home. Matt had borrowed a pack of cigarettes for me and opened a bottle of wine. At 8 in the morning, I sat on my couch and drank and smoked inside and tried to get through to ANYONE at home. My mom couldn’t reach anyone either. My sister’s school was evacuating – they had let the children watch it all happen, and my sister saw the same thing I saw, and was alone and being sent home to an empty house. My brothers were frantic, and no one could find my dad. It was the second time in my life I have felt completely helpless, completely without the ability to save myself. It was three hours before we heard any news.
Apparently, unbeknownst to me, my dad had moved out of his office just weeks before, for a final remodeling. He had been working across the river. He was set to move back in a few days before the 11th, but a higher-ranking general asked to have his office. He complied. That morning he was on the freeway, heading to that office to meet with that General – whose children we know – about the office switch. He saw the plane from the road. My father, who is ALWAYS on time, was late for his meeting.
When he did reach the Pentagon, he was immediately rushed underground with other high-ranking officials. He had no cell reception from the bunker. When he finally could get a land line, he called my mother. And the horror stilled, finally. Remained, but stilled.
When I could walk – fear like that takes something out of you – I remember going outside, alone. And it was so strange, how quiet this city was. Los Angeles is never quiet, but that day nothing stirred. I don’t even remember hearing birds, but that might have just been my brain. I passed a stairway at Warner Brother’s Studios, and these two grown men were arguing. One was in tears. They were arguing about work, and I wanted to say “Don’t you understand how the world has changed today?” But I didn’t. And I think it was their fear of the change that must have prompted that argument.
The craziest thing about it all, for me personally, is how it seemed the universe tried to save my dad. I guess that’s weird, to all you normal folks out there. But he was moved after years of being in that office. He insisted on completing his work at the Pentagon anyway. Then the other General took his office. He still insisted on going back to work it all out. So my punctual father was inexplicably held up – and saved a third time by a gracious God. If you knew my dad, you’d understand why. This world is a far grander, far more honorable, far kinder place with him in it.
So that’s my super-long story. I’ve been to the 9/11 memorial in the Pentagon, as I’m sure Jess’s mom has. It’s so sad – we knew so many people who were never even found. And the selfish part of it all is that as sad as that is and as hard as it was, it was NOTHING compared to the relief that drowned me when I got my mother’s call.
Love y’all – have a warm and safe anniversary…
Monday, September 10, 2007
The beginning...? Or Simply a Short-Lived Whim?
I guess we'll see... I used to love to journal, but I took myself a lot more seriously back then. I've got a website for my beautiful daughter, a board full of cyber-mommy friends I truly ADORE, and I email with some regularity. So why not a little space for me? Well, because it might be utterly dull. Let's find out, kids.
My little sweetheart (alternately referred to as "little monster") is sleeping in my lap. My beagle's asleep. My husband is at work, bless him. It's just me, awake and quiet.
I love being a mom. It's an amazing experience, with each day different from the last. Difficult, certainly - but I think I'm pretty perfect for it. Most days I really believe I was made simply to be this child's mother.
I'm constantly amazed at all the mommies who seem to be focused on the "bad." Sure, I have my moments. There are times when I think I can't stand one more cry, or walk one more step, or wake up one more night... But I never go to my friends or family or cyber-pals with that as my mindset. I can't imagine a day when looking at Isabella couldn't mend every hurt in my soul. Her face - I can't describe it. It's like air, and water, and warmth. It's all I need.
Lately a few people I thought I could trust (and why did I, in retrospect? they never begged my faith) have really disappointed me. I admit, I get disappointed easily. I put SO MUCH faith in folks that I think it would be impossible to not feel "let down" here and there. My husband assures me that few can live up to the beauty I expect from them. But I hate to lower my standards - I give a lot, and don't look for anything from anyone that I haven't provided many times over myself. What's the solution, then? No matter. Only Ella is important, in the end. And despite the insensitive assholes out there, I know a few incredible people. These are the souls that keep a girl sane - that keep her positive and enable her to keep trying...
And it's Ella that makes me completely alive.
I'm rambling, I think. Onward. To anyone who is worthy of faith - I salute you.
My little sweetheart (alternately referred to as "little monster") is sleeping in my lap. My beagle's asleep. My husband is at work, bless him. It's just me, awake and quiet.
I love being a mom. It's an amazing experience, with each day different from the last. Difficult, certainly - but I think I'm pretty perfect for it. Most days I really believe I was made simply to be this child's mother.
I'm constantly amazed at all the mommies who seem to be focused on the "bad." Sure, I have my moments. There are times when I think I can't stand one more cry, or walk one more step, or wake up one more night... But I never go to my friends or family or cyber-pals with that as my mindset. I can't imagine a day when looking at Isabella couldn't mend every hurt in my soul. Her face - I can't describe it. It's like air, and water, and warmth. It's all I need.
Lately a few people I thought I could trust (and why did I, in retrospect? they never begged my faith) have really disappointed me. I admit, I get disappointed easily. I put SO MUCH faith in folks that I think it would be impossible to not feel "let down" here and there. My husband assures me that few can live up to the beauty I expect from them. But I hate to lower my standards - I give a lot, and don't look for anything from anyone that I haven't provided many times over myself. What's the solution, then? No matter. Only Ella is important, in the end. And despite the insensitive assholes out there, I know a few incredible people. These are the souls that keep a girl sane - that keep her positive and enable her to keep trying...
And it's Ella that makes me completely alive.
I'm rambling, I think. Onward. To anyone who is worthy of faith - I salute you.
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