Once a failure, always a failure

When the prep work for my job pick up the week before I have to start, I get a little crazy.  I'm trying to spend as much time with my kids as I can but I also have people counting on me to do certain things from home.  So when I get a new draft of a script, this shortly before shooting, I have to rearrange my day around breaking it down.  The trouble is, my kids don't understand that.

Before I had kids, I hated this time before work.  The dread of knowing my life is about to change drastically and not knowing how well I'll adjust.  We have a lot of new faces this season so it's not exactly like I'm going home.  In many ways, I'm starting all over again and that's never easy.

So on that ominous note, I'm also going crazy arranging child care, interviewing more sitters for the fall and generally trying to get everything in order before I go back in the trench work life of 70 hour work weeks 60 miles from my home.  Yes, I'm so lucky I have a job but trying to juggle it all often feels like if there's a hell, this is.

Today, I really thought I couldn't handle it anymore and I still haven't fully recovered.  My kids have barely eaten today, in part because I haven't had time to go grocery shopping and then right when we were ready to go, in came the new script.

I met a fabulous sitter for the fall yesterday and went ahead and hired her today.  We talked at great length yesterday and I feel lucky, but shortly after I hired her and she accepted, her requests started texting in.  I sure do with we felt comfortable discussing these things face to face these days because texting sure eats up a ton of time.  I hope it works out with her but I'm not sure she fully understands how TV schedules change constantly.  She wants her "schedule" and I'll give her one but it might change drastically every other week so what's the point of getting locked into it now?  But I have to go into this with positivity because she's great but I also know these babysitters have me over a barrel.

I love my kids but Oh to be C and never, ever have to arrange child care.  He can go to work and earn money and never have to interview sitters, call references or deal with sitter demands and requests.

As the primary caregiver, I enjoy a relationship with my children he will never have.  I get this.  I am usually happy in my role.  Today, I have to remind myself of this because I'm so thoroughly and completely overwhelmed.

I wanted to be a writer, I'm not.  I wanted to be in a happy, stable family relationship, I'm not.  I wanted to find a different job, one that would enable me some level of flexibility in terms of my schedule.  I don't think that will ever happen.  When I finally managed to drag my kids to the store today, I really thought I'd start screaming and never stop.  Elena won't potty train and I'm tired of trying to get her to do it.  If I let her run around in underwear, she pees.  I finally thought we were getting somewhere last week when trapped inside by the heat, she actually spent one entire day accident free.  The following day she peed everywhere and now refuses to get on the potty.  If I stick her on, she does nothing.  After six years in diapers, I really don't think I can handle diapers anymore.  I hate how much space they take up, how she just lies there while I clean up her crap, how she's not even trying at all.

Of course the store had toys and of course the girls cried because I wouldn't get them any.  Of course walking out of the store involved my having to haul Elena across a parking lot because there was no room in the cart with all the paper towels and diapers we need to clean up after her.  Naturally on Friday, the traffic was atrocious and the humidity made it feel like it was 100 degrees.

I screamed obscenities at other drivers in the car and scared the girls with my bad behavior.  I laughed at myself and told them I was acting stupid and they should know by watching me never to act like that.     But inside I know the truth.  I'm a failure at everything, even motherhood.  I honestly felt today if I had anyone, anyone who wanted to raise my kids, I'd let them.

Eliza cleaned the playroom all by herself today while I timed the script.  It's even clean enough to get a vacuum in which is something of a miracle.  It was all motivated by her desire to get a certain toy and now she's demanding we return to the store immediately for her reward, a reward Elena really can't share in because after three months of trying, I'm really sick of the fact that she won't even try to use the toilet.  But I don't have time to go back to the store, I don't have time for the 10,000 things that have to get done.  I don't feel like making dinner and we ate out last night.

That's motherhood.  Being a failure and still not being able to walk away from this job.  Tomorrow will be a better day.  It has to be.

Don't Dream it's Over

So here we are in late June, a wonderfully happy time.  One of the perks of season one of Smash was the fabulous northern California vacation I was able to share with my daughters.  We walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, took a day trip to a redwood forest, ate countless bowls of clam chowder, cruised the San Francisco Bay and toured the streets of Chinatown in a motorized duck.  This photo is our only view of the Pacific Ocean from high above Muir Beach.  My daughters were marvelous, truly, and we shared a time we won't ever forget.

In less than a week, I return to work.  And it feels like a death.  I know that's not what it is at all.  I am lucky.  I have a job.  This job provides health insurance, rent money, clothes and fine dinners for us all. This year it even took us across the country on a fabulous adventure.  I like the people I work with.  Sure, the hours are long and shooting outside all night long sucks but sometimes, those night shoots can feel like a party.  There are more pros then cons when it comes to my job.

But let me get back to those long hours.  When a typical day starts at 7am and ends around 9pm and I live too far from where I work?  I don't see my kids for five days in a row.  As one friend said, I leave for work and they're sleeping.  I get home and they're sleeping.

Today was the first read through of season 2 of Smash.  Read throughs are fun.  The cast, executive types and various peon types such as myself gather to hear the cast read the dialogue of the episode as scripted.  I took the girls to New York, enlisted my old babysitter to watch them, and then attended the read through.  I love our cast.  I hugged recent Tony winner Christian Borle.  I chatted with Debra Messing and Kat McPhee and sang happy birthday to Angelica Huston.  We were all happy to be together and Angelica dedicated her wish to us, saying she already had all she wished for and wanted us to fulfill our wishes.  This is the truth; this is the kind of person she is.

The script was good and it set a hopeful tone for the season of the show.  We have a new regime and there's a lot about the old regime I greatly admire and miss.  But I do love this cast and even with a new regime, there's just something about this show that I love so much.  I guess because it's about a group of people with show biz dreams and I was once young with show biz dreams and I see myself in them.

In this, there is a greater heartbreak that I can't go into as far as my own dreams.  Let's just say I am a writer and I know I can write for this show and I don't think I will ever have the chance.  And that breaks my heart, just breaks my heart in ways I can't describe.  I am happy to be a part of this show but I will always be on the outside.  And the truth is, I want to be on the inside not just to feel creatively fulfilled but as a writer, I could see my children more.

Today I left Elena with a new sitter and she was okay with it.  At first I thought this because she liked this sitter.  Now I think it's because I've been home for three months and she's gotten to trust that when I leave her with the sitter, I do return on the same day.  She's not going three, four or five days without seeing me.  So now that I've got her trust back, what do I do but rip it all right out from underneath her. Next week I go back to work on Tuesday and that's it, I probably won't see her until Saturday.

I only have a sitter through the end of summer.  I've had no luck finding a sitter for the fall.  So I may have to quit abruptly in the fall anyway if I can't find a sitter.  I tell myself I'm okay with this but I'm not.  I can write for this show and though it's highly unlikely, I might have a shot writing for this show. But it won't happen if I have to quit in seven weeks.  I made it through last season and I did make some headway but if I don't make it through this season, that's it.  All the time I've spent here will be lost.

So tonight, as I write this, my heart is breaking in a thousand different ways.  I called my mother to talk about what this all feels like and she listened in her current distracted state, too overwhelmed by how shitty she feels to care too much.  Without her, I have no one to call to talk about this stuff.  Without her, I am more alone than I can ever describe.  She has been the only person to share in my personal triumphs and tragedies.  C was there for a lot of really big moments in my life and a lot of the time he was really quite great.  But a lot of the time he was like he was the night I labored overnight with Elena.    It was too soon to give me an epidural and I was having heavy contractions every two minutes.  I begged him to just sit near me and hold my hand so I could get through the contractions.  He did this for about 30 minutes before collapsing on the chair to sleep.  He just couldn't stay up all night, not even with his daughter getting ready to emerge into the world.

All I want is to make a living as a writer.  It's all I've ever wanted but now I need it like a life raft.  Because being a writer also enables me to be a mom too.  I feel like Elena's grown up so much in just a few weeks.  I don't want to rip the world from out beneath her feet again.

Please, universe, please help me here.

Sister Love

I posted this photo on Facebook recently with the caption "Sister is another word for love."  My girls really do love each other, most of the time.  The rest of the time they fight like crazy.  I wouldn't believe two girls could cause each other so much angst over a cup full of colored pencils but I'm often amazed at what they'll choose to fight about.  Tonight when I actually managed to get them to share those colored pencils, reminding them that they could only color with one pencil at a time, I really felt like some kind of middle east peace negotiator.  They happily sat at the dining table and colored for all of five minutes before they moved on to the next fun activity; pretending they were pirates on the back porch.

Oh what a wonderful time in their life this is.  Eliza has one more day of school and then I will no longer have a first grader.  Elena is registered to start pre-K in the Fall but I'm not optimistic about her academic life.  She clings to me like crazy whenever we're within 50 feet of the school, grabbing onto my leg and saying "school next year!  Next year!" with the kind of terror reserved for lakeside camp horror movies.  She is also developmentally behind other kids her age and I'm afraid that school might be the beginning of a new chapter in my life--that of the mother of a kid who is a little "special."

She has yet to potty train, preferring the ease of diapers or just peeing on the floor to the stress of controlling her bodily functions.  At first, I thought she lacked the belief that she could do it but after countless readings of "Little Quack" in the bathroom, I've come to think differently.  In "Little Quack," five scared little ducklings cling close to the nest while the mother duck encourages them to paddle on the water with Mama, saying "You can do it, I know you can."  Eventually, the ducklings all hit the water, overcoming their fear.  I really thought showing Elena how these ducklings conquered their fear, she'd realize she could use the potty.  However, when I try to get her to use the potty when she's deep in play, her quoting the scared ducklings of "Little Quack" sounds less like fear and more like an excuse not to be bothered to learn this.

But it's not just the potty training, her speech and ability to communicate is not that great.  She also doesn't have the greatest motor skills and can't really do more on paper than scribble.  I tried to get her to sing the ABC song today but she wouldn't because I'm sure she doesn't actually know it.  Sometimes I feel guilty--if I spent more time coloring and drawing with her the way I did with Eliza, she'd be more advanced but the truth is, when I try to color with it, which isn't often, she's no interest whatsoever.  She'd much rather retreat to her own little world with her little Lalaloopsy dolls and reenact the Lalaloopsy movie she insists on watching day in and day out.  She also freaks out if her sandwich breaks in half or one side of the bread is bigger than the other side.

So while I'm not expecting school to be a big hit for Elena, I'm now worried that it will serve as that turning point, that moment when I'm told my little one is not like other little ones.

But while I face this fall with trepidation for so many reasons (I will be back at work!  I won't get to see my kids at all!) I still say this is a wonderful time.  Watching these two little girls interact and connect and disconnect and fight is just about the best thing in the world.  When I don't want to lock myself in a room and cry because I can't deal with the fighting anymore.  I get the great privilege of seeing their relationship unfold.

Elena is not the most affectionate child but at least once a day she'll come up to me and kiss me or put her little arms around my neck in a hug.  Just like you see in the picture above, those tiny little arms will find their way around my neck and lock together.  And that moment, that feeling of those arms around me, it's just so indescribably great nothing I can write here can possibly describe it.  I am just so completely dumbfounded that tiny little arms like that could have so much power.

Recital Day

There's no time to write because it's time to make Elena's lunch but I wanted to upload some photos of Eliza, ready for her dance recital.  I don't think she's on her way to professional dancerhood but she had a great time getting dressed up, made up and hanging out with her friends.  Every year, I'm sad when that weekend in June is over and we've got to wait another year for the next one.  On the plus side, my mother made it to the recital this year.  She couldn't last year because she was too sick.  So hopefully, Mom will be at the next one too.

Lifework

My mother is dying.  Not today, no today she is set to take care of Elena while I attend to Eliza at her endless dance recital.  But try as I might to pretend that she will somehow cheat death, I see her body struggling to hold itself up.  I can tell myself none of us really knows how long we have and all we have is today but there it is, written all over her.  I love my mom and she has pancreatic cancer.

The doctors were reassuring.  They tried to cut it out of her.  They offered her radiation and an aggressive chemotherapy regimen in the hopes that it "could extend her life."  I bought the line that they could extend her life long enough to find a cure.  Now it's almost a year later, fortunately she's still here but she is weak, disoriented, visibly making her descent.

My mother is the only person I've ever had that's truly mine.  She has always been my "last call" of the night, the only person who listened to my endless pratterings no matter how inane, how repetitive.  She is my champion, my hero, the only person who has ever loved me unconditionally.  I don't know how I'm supposed to survive without her.

As I face this, people say I will go on.  My children need me and my mother would want me to continue.  I get that and I know all too well my role as my children's caregivers.  I have to honestly say, my mood and how I've been with my children has changed tremendously in this past year.  Whether it's because of my mother's illness or the fact that they've gotten older and the roles have changed is unknown.  But as much as I love them, I am a much less happy mother.

At work, I could hide from my mother's sickness, from the awful reality we faced.  At home, it's right there in my face and there's no one, no one for me.  My days start and finish based on the needs of others around me.  I take care of myself and try to plan fun stuff for us so it's not a complete grind.  I just desperately miss adult interaction.  I have wonderful friends, but they have their own lives.  I don't see them enough but we're all busy and it can be hard to get together.  Most days the only adult I speak to for more than five minutes is my mother.

I don't mind living my life without a partner, but I sure do wish I had another adult around to look forward to seeing regularly once or twice a week.  Some one to hug me and laugh with me and make reenergize me in that way that people who care about you can.  Parenting, particularly single parenting, can be very isolating.  I'm sure people in fairly good marriages are starved for what I'm looking for right now.

Health is a gift and I seem to be healthy, as are my girls.  There are far sadder stories out there.  Some of my cousins have already lost both their parents.  Death is a part of life.  I am north of 40 now, I am not immune to this fact.

A friend recently posted this quote from "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte.  Not to be overdramatic, but this is how I feel about life in a world without my mom.
If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."

April opened with the Easter Bunny and closed with Elena blowing out three candles on her birthday cake.  Three years ago, I opened the car door set to take Eliza to the park along the bay when my water broke.  The next day, on April 28, Elena Michelle was born.

I've been solo the whole time with my little Lena Loo.  So her birthdays not only mark the quick passage of her childhood but serve as a reminder of how far we've come.  I left New York on April 8th and had her just 20 days later.  That July, I moved into our new home together.

I loved this apartment from the first time I saw it.  I loved how the apartment was long with lots of rooms and many doors.  As a child, my cousins would chase me through the railroad apartment of my grandmother's house.  I'd race through the rooms, yanking the sliding doors closed behind me.  Now my girls are finally at an age where they love to be chased through the apartment.  Their bedroom has two doors so we can race through that room, loop through the living room and then march down the long hallway that opens to the kitchen on one side and the dining room on the other.  Through the dining room we can race through the playroom and then run through the kitchen on our way back down the hall.  It is great fun and with each run and funny noise, I'm six years old tearing through a house I'll never leave behind.

April was as perfect a month for me as I could get.  Easter was a perfect day with both girls in frilly yellow dresses and my Mom and Billy in good spirits.  My cousins came to visit one weekend bringing their three children and much joy with them.  We also went to New York for a day and caught up with some friends and family then.  Elena's birthday, always a cause for celebration, unfolded in a wonderful weekend of games and song.  I could not be happier with my girls and our happy life here.  I only wish things could stay like this forever but as we all know, May is already here, it's been raining a lot and even if the sky finally clears up and the weather is perfect, it's going to be hard to top our wonderful April.  

Fleeting Sprites

Wow, it's been so long. I didn't want to change the post for a long time. Every time I'd sign on, I'd see that letter to Meredith and I couldn't move forward. I guess I hoped she'd see it and answer but sadly she did not. The earth keeps moving and she is far away. At least I can be happy with the notion that she is still in this world and perhaps someday we'll meet again.

Life keeps moving forward at a pace that is far to fast for me. In less than two short weeks my baby will turn three. My little girl, my darling Elena is a baby no more. She is a full-fledged screaming, laughing, stomping little person now. She has a temper I often find hard to believe. You wouldn't think some one would get so mad about having to put on a pair of shoes. It's quite warm in their bedroom tonight and when I clicked on the fan, Elena screamed "Agh, no fan! Too noisy! I don't like the fan!" This fan is whisper quiet so perhaps the vaguely European part of her genetic makeup has created this no fan feeling in her.

After Eliza fell asleep tonight, Elena was still awake calling for me. I knew it was late but she also wasn't asleep so I took her out of the crib. We snuggled on the couch and she sang silly songs and kept pointing to the TV and saying "Titanic!" She pretended that a small child's mirror in a strawberry embossed leather case was a lollipop and sang the lollipop song. "Take my picture, Mama," she said as she posed with her "lollipop." "I watch TV with Mama!" she said proudly, I think happy to be the one staying up late for a change.

Finally I put her down in the crib, an act for which I was rewarded with about 10 minutes of solid crying. Poor Eliza, she really doesn't get enough sleep between her sister waking at 6am singing "Rumor has it, ooh! Rumor has it, ooh!" at the top of her lungs followed later by Elena's nocturnal rebellion.

Tonight, Eliza woke up around 10:30 to go to the bathroom. She dashed from her room into the bathroom looking like some kind of enchanted sprite in her beautiful long white nightgown that she got for Christmas. She truly looks like an angel in this eyelit off-white creation. I went into the room to kiss her and she smiled at me, asked for water and told me she loved me. Her little arms stretched out for a hug. I didn't know I could love so much.

They are wonderful, they are maddening, they are mine, they are not mine. They will always be my children but they do not belong to me. This past week was Eliza's spring breaks and they spent a lot of time together. It was charming to watch them really forge a relationship but at times it almost hurt how little they need me. Soon they will have their own relationship and I'll be cast into the background, a role I'm not exactly sure I'm suited to play. But as their mom, I know I have to always be the grown-up, step back, and let them go, a little at a time.

We finished shooting "Smash" on March 20th so I've been home for a month now. Sometimes, like now, I find myself blissfully content to be at home with my little children nearby. I find myself often popping into their room and touching their sweet little arms as they sleep, so happy I'm here and that I can look at them whenever I feel like it. Other times I feel almost unspeakably paralyzed by the sheer monotony of taking care of them--the dishes that must be rinsed, the floor I have to sweep, the piles of toys and cut up papers that seems to migrate throughout the house. I stood over the sink the other day as Elena screamed because I wouldn't give her another vitamin and I turned on the water and I really wanted to cry but I didn't. I reminded myself that I'm lucky to be at home, I'm lucky to have these girls, I'm lucky my mother is still alive. I'm so fortunate and so proud of myself for what I've accomplished, largely unassisted. And yet there are still those moments where I really don't know how I can keep doing this. How I wish more than anything, I had more friends, a sibling, anyone to come over sometimes and help break up the endless waltz between stove, sink, dining table and changing matt.

But most of the time, I look at these girls and I can't believe how much I love them. I remember so clearly events from eight years ago, how will I feel eight years from now when my Eliza is 14? I so love having little children, having the power to kiss a sore thumb and hearing my Elena say "Thanks Mama, you made it ALL better."

Tonight, I still have those little girls and because of this blog, this night has been recorded. Life with my little girls is beautiful.