Explain yourself

This might be the greatest thing ever created on the subject. (Thanks Tracy!)

Nipper Knapp and I had our first parent teacher conference last week. I KNOW! He's 3! It was more of a "getting to know you" kind of meeting, not a "Jack is not meeting our academic standards" kind of meeting. His lead teacher is a very sweet woman who has a kid starting junior high this fall, so she's very understanding about kids in transition. But as we told her a little about our family, about our lifestyle, she started to glaze over and say "ohhhhhh", in a very "NOW, I understand everything", kind of way. 

We explained first that we are actors, and don't real have a regular schedule. She nodded. We went on to explain that we're never really rushing out the door to go anywhere, so it's possible that Jack might not really understand about "being late" or moving on to the next task. "uhm-hum" she said. Then we told her about our nanny situation. We told her that Jack was with us full time even going to auditions with us until he was 18 months, and then we have his nanny Brenda, who lives in the neighborhood come over a few hours a day. They go out and go to the park, or to the soda fountain for lunch. Sometimes they ride the train or go to the 99 cent store, where she let's him buy whatever he wants. "I see". We tell her, and as it's coming out of my mouth I see the error in my ways, that we basically have no schedule, Jack calls the shots on what his day is going to look like, we are together all the time, and he has experienced very little loss, estrangement, nor crying, in his little lifetime. "uh-huh, yes, ok, I see".

Then she drops the Socratic BOMB "Does Jack have many friends". "uhhhhhhhhhm". What do I say? "Well, I'm not really into, you know, talking to people", or "All that mommy talk with strange women sort of makes me want to tear my face off", or "I don't even like the people I like"? Or do I just tell her the truth? We are terrible misanthropic, semi busy parents who haven't made socializing with other families a priority. We socialize. It's just with the same three people. Playdates are not our thing. Mommy and me classes always felt like the 7th circle of hell to me. We did them when he was little, but neither of us were very interested in them, and so eventually we stopped going. 

I started nervously looking back and forth between the teacher and Nipper, trying to explain myself, and saying things in a voice that I was hoping was determined and not cowed "We need to have Nate and Bob over more often". It's true. I know it. 

I don't want to raise some freaky deaky Howard Hughes type. I know this is common with first born children. My friend Merideth said that her oldest son was the 1st grandchild on both sides. In other words he was the second coming of the Messiah. She said somedays she had to close the "kid museum" to visitors. She then informed me that her youngest and third son, is just happy to be alive, and showed me a video of him just swinging by himself on the porch, happy as a clam. 

My mom told her friend Carol about some of the problems Jack was having adjusting to preschool. She laughed and said "Oh they had the same problem with Harry and William. The other little princes. Sigh...

World's worst mommy

When he was 2

Feeling a little guilty that while Jack was at school today, I went to one audition, ate a leisurely take out lunch from the Greek Restaurant on Larchmont and took a 1.5 hour nap. But I did take the nap at the same time as he was taking his nap at school, which was sort of like fulfilling a campaign promise, so I don't feel too guilty about it.

This morning in the car on the way to school he told me he doesn't like naptime. I told him that naptime is just naptime, and he'd have to take one at that time even if he was home. He asked me if I take a nap at home when he's taking a nap at school. I said "yes". Then I went on to tell him that EVERYBODY who is anybody naps at 1pm.

At least mommy's not a liar.

NYC updates coming soon. I might need another few days of naps before I can manage all the typing.

The Kissing Hand

I have to share the sweetest tradition passed on to us from my friend Audrey. Audrey has two gorgeous children, the very handsome Cormac, and the very precocious Margo. Margo is going to be a big big star. I can tell. She's 5. 

In all the hullaballoo leading up to Jack starting school, I got lots of sweet notes, and advice, and stories about tearful drop-offs that lead into very happy pick ups. But Audrey mentioned a book that helped Margo transition. It's called The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn (not my friend Audrey). I haven't read it, but it's already helped us immensely. I was lying in bed last night tossing and turning, and I remembered the story, and  resolved to try it, if Jack was struggling when I dropped him off in the morning. 

Here's the story (from the publisher): 

Chester Raccoon doesn't want to go to school--he wants to stay home with his mother. She assures him that he'll love school--with its promise of new friends, new toys, and new books. Even better, she has a special secret that's been in the family for years--the Kissing Hand. This secret, she tells him, will make school seem as cozy as home. She takes her son's hand, spreads his tiny fingers into a fan and kisses his palm--smack dab in the middle: "Chester felt his mother's kiss rush from his hand, up his arm, and into his heart." Whenever he feels lonely at school, all he has to do is press his hand to his cheek to feel the warmth of his mother's kiss. Chester is so pleased with his Kissing Hand that he gives his mom a Kissing Hand, too, to comfort her when he is away.

I won't spoil the end, but I defy you to remain dry eyed if you have spawn of your own

As we were getting ready for school, I showed Jack the blankie I sewed for him. I told him, I had filled it with hugs and kisses, so when he naps, he'll be covered in hugs and kisses from mommy and daddy. He made me wrap him up in it, and said that it felt "really soft". Ok mom, good job. You can do this. 

On the way to school, he seemed a little apprehensive. He told me about how his teacher had read them stories on the green carpet and that he'd liked it, but also he had cried too. I told him all about my plan to fill his hands with kisses, so that when he was feeling sad, or lonesome, or scared, he could touch his hand to his cheek and get a kiss from mommy. He said "that was a good idea". 

Cut to 7 minutes later in the parking lot of the school, where I'm kissing his hands, and he's holding back tears, and clinging to my neck so hard, I'm convinced he's part monkey. We go inside, and I say ok, let's fill those hands back up with kisses before I have to go, but he's too busy touching them all over his face, while I'm still right there, and he's crying, but trying really hard not to, and his little face is all screwed up into this terrible mask of doom. Gulp, kiss pat, "Mommy?" sob, kiss pat, "MOMMY?", kiss pat, kiss pat, kiss pat. SOMEBODY PLEASE PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY!!! 

At last one of his teachers realizes that I am far to weak to break this never ending cycle of despair, comes over, peels him off of me, sets him on her lap, says "Say bye bye to mama Jack, you'll see her in a little bit". THANK YOU! He waves this sad little wave, but he's not crying anymore, and I turn, and put on my biggest smile, and say "I love you bubs, I'll see you in a few hours!" I walk outside, and let out a tiny little sob once the door is closed. Cleo's mom is walking out with me, and I sort of hope she didn't hear it, or notice that I'm crying a little under my Ray-Bans. She pats me on the back. She knows. I tell her I can't tell Nipper how rough that was, and she laughs, and says "He said the exact same thing last week when he dropped Jack off". 

We are soft. 

Oh, and by the way, when we picked him up, he was gluing popsicle sticks onto some construction paper. It took him 5 minutes to notice we were even there and STARING AT HIM. He turned and said cheerfully "Oh hey guys, I didn't know you were here!". 

We are dumb. 

ok but here's the thing

He's always going to be my baby. At our wedding, Nipper's mom looked at me and absentmindedly said "well, I guess he's never coming back to Michigan now." Let me give you a little back story. Nipper had already lived in New York for 8 years, and Los Angeles for 4. We had met 8 months before. I turned stunned and backed slowly away. "Does she blame me?" "Did she really think he was coming back?" "I thought she liked me!"

My first day of school

The answer to those questions: NO, maybe, she does (a lot). It wasn't that she was really thinking "Oh, any day now, my baby boy Nipper Knapp is going to come back home and live with me Poppa". Nor would she have wanted that. It's just you know, he's her boy. And now I totally get it. I should also say that Nipper's mom is my model for how to be a mother in law. She is kind to me, respects my opinions, talks me like I'm one of her kids, and always takes my side over Nipper Knapp's (at least to my face, which is all I care about:).

Jack and Cleo's first day

That said, here's what happened when I dropped Jack off at school today. We met Cleo and Brett in the parking lot. So grateful to have an ally, and for Jack to have a friend there. We walked to their classroom, went in, looked around, said hello to the teachers, and then Brett, said "Bye Cleo, I'll see you in a few hours!" and left. Gulp. Ok, that's exactly what they said to do. Make it quick, be positive, DON'T CRY. I told Jack I was going to go, and Daddy would be back to pick him up in a few hours. He hugged me TIGHT, he hung his head a little, but he didn't cry. I whispered that he should "take care of Cleo today". Cleo who at that point was twirling and showing the teacher her pink painted fingernails. Uh, yeah...

I walked out, hugged Brett, talked to a few other moms, held it together, got in my car, and sobbed. I cried all the way home. I cried because I was so proud of him. I cried because he was brave, and didn't cry. I cried because I knew that even though he'll always be my baby, he's not a baby anymore. I cried because NPR was playing some BBC story about Natalie Merchant's song "Wonder". I hate this song, and this whole genre of music, but there I am crying my eyes out listening to it. Jaysus lord above, what has this kid done to me?! I pierced my nose with a safety pin, and a bottle of Southern Comfort, in a London hotel room at 15, I don't cry when I hear Natalie Merchant sing!!!

But I did. He's made me soft. Even though he's going to learn about volcanos, and dinosaurs, playground bullies, geometry, poetry, school lunches, carpooling, holding hands, heart break, college admissions, he'll always be my baby.

Oh, so that's how it is...

On Friday I took Jack to his preschool for a little pre-preschool drop off day. We thought it might be a good idea for him to spend an hour with me, and then an hour with Nipper Knapp on Monday before the big day Tuesday. You know, the day where I drop him off at 9:30, say "have a great day at school", and leave, NO MATTER WHAT.

We get there, and he's ON ME. He can't look directly at the teacher, he plays deaf when she asks him if he'd like to do anything, except for when she asks if he wants some saltines and watermelon "yes please". Good job kiddo. The rest of the class lines up to go outside, and he gets right in line with them and goes outside. Half way down the ramp to the playground he turns to look for me and hangs back a little bit.

Once on the playground he watches the other kids playing, but lingers around a picnic table set up for painting until the teacher notices and asks if he would like to paint. "YES!" And this isn't the kind of neat tidy painting we get to do at home, this is spooning whole big globs of gelatinous color onto a big piece of construction paper and messing it around with your whole hand. GOOD STUFF!

We both got back to school haircuts

At some point he sees the other kids going to an outdoor sink nearby to wash their hands. He says he "needs to wash his hands" to which I stand up ready to take him the 30 feet to the sink. "NO Mama" he says blue green paint hands outstretched in front of him in full "stop" mode, "I DON'T need you to help me".  By the time, I have recovered from this bit of autonomy, he's at the sink TALKING TO ANOTHER KID, like that's something he does every day.

Long story short. I think he's going to be just fine. Thank you and goodnight.

The No Tears Lunch Pail

Goodbyn lunchbox

We went to Jack's pre-school orientation last night. Then we went out and got drunk. Not really. Well sort of. Just a little sushi and soju cocktail. Aside from the 3000 page medical/emergency packet I need to fill out. Here are the things he will need for his first day of school:

crib sheet for his cot (sniffle)
blanket (eyes stinging)
back pack (meh)
change of clothes to go in his cubby (full on sob at the word "cubby")
lunch box (glug glug glug)

But then today I set myself to the task of finding a cute lunchbox, and you know planning the PERSONALIZED QUILT I'm going to sew in the next 10 days, while emotionally preparing for him to go, getting our stuff together for the NYTVF, auditioning, and you know, drowning my sorrows in a bottle of trader joe's petite syrah.

Look what I found! Goodbyn lunchboxes with ears for easy opening with little fingers, and stickers for persoanlizing, and little compartments so the food doesn't get all mashed together! No dreaded ziplock bags, of which I have an unnatural hatred. They're sort of like little baby bento boxes. Cute, cute, cute!

Michael's mom clearly doesn't love him or she wouldn't have sent him to school with a SALAD and a hardboiled egg. Yuck. 

cubby...sob...

How To Sing The Blues

Blind Willie Johnson - Let Your Light Shine on Me

We had to tell our beloved nanny today that Jack is starting preschool in the fall. It was awful. I was nauseous and spinny all day. Nipper did the actual telling. I did some tearful texting from afar. We agreed to not talk about it when I got home. She stayed until 7pm just talking and both of us looking at Jack in disbelief. So maybe I can't sing the blues, But I can listen. 

I don't know who wrote this. I got it in an email today. Good stuff. Enjoy some of my favorite blues while you read it.

Blind Willie McTell - Delia

How To Sing The Blues

1. Most Blues begin, "Woke up this morning."

2. " I got a good woman" is a bad way to begin the Blues, 'less you stick something nasty in the next line, like " I got a good woman, with the meanest face in town."

3. The Blues is simple. After you get the first line right, repeat it. Then find something that rhymes ... sort of: "Got a good woman - with the meanest face in town. Got teeth like Margaret   Thatcher   and she weigh 500 pound."

4. The Blues are not about choice. You stuck in a ditch, you stuck in ditch; ain't no way out.

5. Blues cars: Chevys and Cadillacs and broken-down trucks.
Blues don't travel in Volvos, BMWs, or Sport Utility Vehicles. Most Blues transportation is a Greyhound bus or a southbound train. Jet aircraft an' state-sponsored motor pools ain't even in the running. Walkin' plays a major part in the blues liftyle. So does fixin' to die.

6. Teenagers can't sing the Blues. They ain't fixin' to die yet. Adults sing the Blues. In Blues, " adulthood" means being old enough to get the electric chair if you shoot a man in Memphis .

7. Blues can take place in New York City but not in Hawaii or any place in Canada . Hard times in St. Paul or Tucson is just depression. Chicago , St. Louis , and Kansas City still the best places to have the Blues. You cannot have the blues in any place that don't get rain.

8. A man with male pattern baldness ain't the blues. A woman with male pattern baldness is. Breaking your leg 'cuz you skiing is not the blues. Breaking your leg 'cuz an alligator be chomping on it is.

9. You can't have no Blues in an office or a shopping mall. The lighting is wrong. Go outside to the parking lot or sit by the dumpster.

10. Good places for the Blues:

a. highway
b. jailhouse
c. empty bed
d. bottom of a whiskey glass

Bad places:

a. Ashrams
b. gallery openings
c. Ivy League institutions
d. golf courses

11. No one will believe it's the Blues if you wear a suit, 'less you happen to be an old ethnic person, and you slept in it.

12. Do you have the right to sing the Blues? Yes, if:

a. you're older than dirt
b. you're blind
c. you shot a man in Memphis
d. you can't be satisfied

No, if:

a. you have all your teeth
b. you were once blind but now can see
c. the man in Memphis lived.
d. you have a retirement plan or trust fund.


13. Blues is not a matter of looks.  It's a matter of bad luck. Tiger Woods cannot sing the blues. Gary Coleman could. Ugly white people also got a leg up on the blues.

14. If you ask for water and Baby give you gasoline, it's the Blues. Other acceptable Blues beverages are:

a. wine
b. whiskey or bourbon
c. muddy water
d. black coffee

The following are NOT Blues beverages:

a. mixed drinks
b. kosher wine
c. Snapple
d. sparkling water

15. If it occurs in a cheap motel or a shotgun shack, it's a Blues death. Stabbed in the back by a jealous lover is another Blues way to die. So is the electric chair, substance abuse, and dying lonely on a broken down cot. You can't have a Blues death if you die during a tennis match or getting liposuction.

16. Some Blues names for women:

a. Sadie
b. Big Mama
c. Bessie
d. Fat River Dumpling

17. Some Blues names for men:

a. Joe
b. Willie
c. Little Willie
d. Big Willie

18. Persons with names like Sierra, Sequoia, Auburn , and Rainbow can't sing the Blues no matter how many men they shoot in Memphis .

19. Make your own Blues name (starter kit):

a. name of physical infirmity (Blind, Cripple, Lame, etc.)

b. first name (see above) plus name of fruit (Lemon, Lime, Kiwi,etc.)

c. last name of President (Jefferson, Johnson, Fillmore, etc.) For example, Blind Lime Jefferson, or Cripple Kiwi Fillmore, etc. (Well, maybe not "Kiwi.")

20. I don't care how tragic your life: you own a computer, you cannot sing the blues. You best destroy it. Fire, a spilled bottle of Mad Dog, or get out a shotgun. Maybe your big woman just done sat on it. I don't care.

Lightnin Hopkins - Trouble in Mind

The Kids Are All Right

We did it, we paid the people our good money and they are saving him a space. How did this happen? I just brought him home. He JUST came out of my frickin womb! My god! Now I'm sending him away to be with other kids. To a place with lots of trees, and letters on the wall, and a tool bench because he likes that kind of "guy stuff". To learn how to learn, how to get picked on. How to laugh at jokes, how to sit quietly while the teacher is talking. How to be bored at school. How to find a best friend. How to have your heart broken. How to skin your knee (he still hasn't ). I have cried spontaneously 14 times in the last 48 hours. When I was trying to go to sleep last night I had that racy heart, pit in my stomach feeling I used to get in my twenties when my heart was broken by a boy. Little did I know that was just practice. I told Nipper Knapp that I'm excited and ill at  the same time. My heart ACHES.

I'm the big talker too. It runs in my family. We're all really "tough". And by tough I mean, we say lots of tough things to cover up for how sentimental and softhearted we are. I'm the one who's usually saying things like "he needs to learn how to do it on his own" and "he'll only do it once if it's going to hurt, it's the only way he'll learn". Meanwhile I've been carrying him around on my hip for three years and I have the bad back to prove it.

We went to see the movie "The Kids Are All Right" yesterday. GREAT MOVIE. It's an indie so for those of you not in LA or NYC it might take a bit before it gets to your local theater, or you can wait and rent it. It's all about marriage and families, and kids growing up. The perfect movie for me yesterday. I got to cry my eyes out in the dark while eating popcorn. Perfecto. Nipper Knapp and I held hands almost the whole movie. Something we did not do when seeing Predators last week.

I don't think I'm spoiling anything when I say there's a college drop off scene in the movie. The oldest kid, the daughter is going away to school. The moment it started, I started to cry. I have distinct memories of dropping my brother off at college. My little family that was on the verge of what we all kept telling ourselves was a "very amicable divorce", (as if there is such a thing) one short year later, was all together that day. I've been looking all over the house for the picture. My parents asked some passerby to take our picture in front of my brother's dorm. I was wearing a purple shirt. My dad had his arms around all of us. I think it was our last family picture. You see? Sentimental.

I don't know if my brother and I had this same exchange that day, that the kids had in the movie, but I'm sure we were thinking it:

little brother "It's going to be weird not having you around"
big sister " I'm sorry I'm leaving you all alone with them"

My brother and I drove my mother crazy. We were always nagging each other and playing stupid games to irritate the other one. There is a picture of us in Italy. We're sitting on a bench on a beautiful precipice overlooking Verona (?) perhaps. Josh (15) and I (11) are sheepishly doodling circles on the bench, eyes cast downwards. My mother's arms are in mid-air, as she's informing us that we are ruining her vacation with our shenanigans. There are two young Italian men behind us, leaned against a wall. They are laughing. At us. My dad is standing off to the side photographing the whole scene. This is my family. I love them.

I wasn't going to write about this at all. It seemed too personal. To raw. Too indecent. But it's just on the tip of my brain all the time lately. I thought I'd wait until we were pregnant. Until had another kid. Or maybe never. Last October we had a miscarriage. We went to the fancy ultrasound doctor for our genetic tests and our 3 month 3D ultrasound. I was finished with the dreaded 1st trimester, and looking forward to feeling good before I got too big and unwieldy. We were having the conversation with the doctor about "did I REALLY have to have the amnio, since I had just turned 35 two months before?". We were giddy to see the baby. The office has these big screen HD tvs on the wall. Fancy. So I'm laying there on the table, and Nipper is video taping the big tv screen on his iphone. The doctor doesn't say anything. He's moving the thing around, and the baby isn't moving. I knew something was wrong. He says he wants to move us to a different room to use a different machine. I KNEW something was wrong.

Before any of this becomes very clear poor Nipper Knapp has emailed the video to our families. They are all excited about the baby, and we all thought maybe we'd find out that day if it was a boy or a girl.

We move to the next room where the doctor then tells us that in fact there is no heart beat. He assures us that based on what he was seeing there was something wrong from the beginning and it was nothing we had done. It just happened. This kind of thing just happens. After it happened, I heard from many other women that it had happened to them. Many just like me, had it happen after, or in between, other completely healthy pregnancies. We never talk about it. It's just too sad. It's too painful. No one wants to hear about something like that. It feels like bad juju to even say it out loud. I don't know if this counts for saying it out loud. But I just thought maybe if there were other women, some of my readers who were out there, who this has happened to, who feel like they shouldn't talk about it, or CAN'T talk about it. I know. All the awful details, I know. But mostly I know about the sadness that sneaks up on you when you are really not expecting it at all.

I know all about having to wait 4 whole days before I could get a D&C, thinking the whole time "I'm still pregnant, but I no longer have a baby". I know all about wishing I could take a little mental vacation from my body. I know about having to sit in the same waiting room as the families waiting for babies to be born at Cedars, to have the procedure to remove my baby. I remember thinking it was some kind of sick administrative punishment. I know all about crying talking to an obgyn I'd never met because mine is mysteriously out of town AGAIN (she didn't deliver Jack for the same reason). I know all about throwing up in my mothers day sweatshirt that was on my lap in the wheelchair on the way out of the hospital because the candy striper couldn't find a barf bag. I know all about being "tough" and going to a callback straight from the hospital (post barf cleanup, and post NK protests), and booking the job. I know all about spending the next two days in bed with oreo cookies and tea, and visits from Jack, and Nipper's sister Jenny who came out to take care of all of us. But mostly to take care of Nipper. I know all about feeling that it must be harder on the husband because nothing is worse than something awful happening to someone you love, much less two people you love.

I thought we were going to have a May baby. May came and went, and it felt like the LONGEST month.  I've thrown myself into work, into cooking, into tickling Jack until he pees a little and begs for mercy. Into hoepfully being a better wife. A better sister. A better daughter. A better mom. I'm hoping we are going to have another kid. We're working on it (not as diligently as Nipper Knapp would like). I just want Jack to have someone to pick on. Someone for him to be able to roll his eyes with when his parents start arguing about whose definition of "clean" is the "right" one. Someone for him to give a quick look to when I am doing some crazy mom thing that will bond them to each other like soldiers in war. (Yes mom, now I know, all moms are a little bit crazy, and now I know why) Someone to share family pictures with when he grows up. He's going to do that. Grow up I mean. I'm not ready for it today. But I'm working on it.

The weird thing is, even through the veil of this sad event, I feel like this has been the best year for our family. Jack is growing into his own inevitable awesomeness. We laugh all the time. We are healthy and happy. And we've had too much good fortune and too many hijinks and capers to list. That's the best thing about family. Through the terrible stuff you're able to appreciate the best stuff you've got, which is of course, each other. (oh, I just threw up a little on myself again. Sorry... blurgh...)

Preschool here we come! I hope they have a spot in the parking lot for the weepers.