Most days I feel like a bad parent.
Don't get me wrong, Char is loved and adored beyond compare. She is the light of my life and my number one priority, but all my wonderful plans for how I was going to raise this "free range baby" have evaporated along with adequate sleep.
It's a slippery slope, this descent into (far) less than perfect, and it began waaaay back before she was even conceived. I had read, and believed, that one should basically live like a monk in the year leading up to the blessed event (and I don't mean the birth) so that the "vessel" could be pure and conception "perfect". It all started out OK, with organic, gluten free, dairy free, home made portion controlled meals I slaved over all weekend, but quickly descended into frequent trips to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard.
I also remember reading that stress was bad for conception and that it should be avoided at all costs if you wanted to get pregnant. At the time I was working in a newsroom; hardly a peaceful environment for planting the seed. I was sure there was no way I'd be able to get pregnant working at that job and was busily trying to engineer a way out. And then it happened. In one of the most stressful weeks in my professional career: a federal election, the launch of a new video service and a company takeover, it happened. I got pregnant. Fully and totally stressed out, while living off fast food and coffee.
Go figure.
I decided as soon as I heard, I'd eat like a monk again. And it worked, for a short period of time until the nausea hit. Then, for some unknown reason I was craving lunch meat (great - hello listeriosis?) and could only keep down crackers, potato chips and hard candies to keep from retching at work. Hardly a diet that would build a super baby, but she stuck around. Things got better in the 2nd trimester after a close call with gestational diabetes, and then slid back into a bad place with the siren call of Blizzards and home baked muffins and cookies at the end. Curiously, I only gained 7 pounds.
All the diet stuff aside, we were also trying to have a natural birth. We hired a doula, got a midwife and attended classes in HypnoBirthing. This, I can actually say, we did very well. We were great students, did all our homework and dutifully attended the classes. We were feeling pretty good about our chances to have a natural birth. But Char had other plans. Two weeks late and every last idea we had was shot to sh*t. I won't bore you with the details again, but it wasn't pretty. So that little attempt at being a "natural" mom didn't work either.
Then came breast feeding. Anyone who knows me, knows my boobs. It's not like I showcase them, it's just that you can't avoid them. I have to say when I was about 18 years old they were pretty impressive and for a brief time I did let them out to be seen. But within a few years the weight and the wardrobe crept back over them like a glacier over the rockies. Still, there are some things you can't hide. So it would follow, you'd think, that breast feeding wouldn't just be easy, it would be resplendent! I imagined poor Char overwhelmed by the torrent of motherly love pouring her way. We (James and I) became strident advocates of the practice before we'd even tried it. What could be more natural? More normal?
In yet another cosmic joke, that didn't work out either. And it wasn't from lack of trying. My poor little girl lost weight in the first few weeks, trying desperately to get those giant orbs functioning. I remember her tiny hand coming down on the side of my massive breast, slapping it, to try and "make it go." No dice. What followed was a cavalcade of visitors all well versed in breast feeding, with tricks, techniques, pumps, herbal teas and admonitions to "lock ourselves in the bedroom for 24 hours" to get things worked out.
Hah.
What surprised me about all this was the lengths that "natural" folks were willing to go - even using an off-label pharmaceutical to try and get things moving. That didn't seem very natural to me. There's a real lack of understanding about this from the natural birthing community when it doesn't work out. It felt like a massive failure. Not long after I finally gave up, I was told my hormones had made it pretty much impossible to breast feed. But that didn't take the sting away; to this day I wish it had worked out. Because according to the "experts" my daughter won't be as smart, healthy, well adjusted, resilient or feel as loved as if I had been able to breast feed her.
The final frontier was TV. We had said we wouldn't watch TV with Char. Perhaps the odd episode of Sesame Street, but in no way would it be a part of our everyday lives.
Wow. Were we out to lunch on that one.
Between my job, our collective ages (we're elderly, dude) and James' illness, a few episodes of Max & Ruby has made the difference between sanity and madness. And I feel bad every minute she watches. I feel like I've set her up for ADHD, depression, obesity and just about any other societal ill you can blame on non-specific sources.
So there it is. Our dream of a free range baby conceived on organic kale, grown in a beautiful broth of nuts and berries, birthed at home in a tub, exclusively breast fed and given nothing but books and wooden toys has turned into... every other kid I know.
And I wouldn't trade her for the world.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
So How Was Your Weekend?
Does anyone ever really answer that honestly? Or does "good" pretty much sum it up?
Last we spoke, I was having trouble relaxing and enjoying what is. I was facing 2 days of unplanned activities and I felt a bit panicky. I'm not used to having free time, between work, cooking, cleaning, child care and visiting the parental units. How did I handle it? Well on Saturday I picked a fight with my husband. It seems I can't leave well enough alone.
What was the fight about? This time, work. And about what would actually make me happy. You see, I've been complaining about my work for as long as he's known me. He understands my frustration, as he has similarly banged his head against the wall with his photography. I like to think we're both talented people who haven't caught a break. His work is really stunning, actually. I remember when we met he told me he was a photographer and I was a bit worried. What if his stuff was terrible? I'm not a good liar, what would I say then? Fortunately that wasn't a problem.
So back to the fight. I felt like he wasn't supporting my journey to be a happier person, to find out what worked for me, even if that meant doing things slightly differently, living in another city, or perhaps "downsizing" in a tradeoff for freedom. I felt like fear was guiding his feelings and he was more worried about safety than my happiness.
But as is so often the case with James, the argument wasn't that simple. What he was expressing was actually hitting very close to home - would changing the outside world somehow provide the magical answer I was looking for that would make me happy? That really pissed me off. And that's when I knew I'd better listen.
He pointed out the numerous things we had and that I had wished for in the past (a baby, then a healthy baby, then a new place, a bigger place, a nicer view, more money). I had to admit that I had them all and yet here I was still reflecting on what wasn't good enough. It makes him feel inadequate, because no matter what he does, he cannot fix this for me, or make me happy.
That really got me because it's not the first time I've heard it. And I don't mean from him.
So, after a minor freak-out where I felt hurt and unsupported and angry, I had to admit he was right - I have a lot of trouble taking joy in the every day things that I have, in spite of how great they are. I mean, if you'd told me 10 years ago that I'd have a doting husband who thought I was the greatest, a healthy baby girl, a lovely place to live and a job that pays as well as it does, I would have thought you were dreaming. That it all happened, and I can't appreciate it, doesn't bode well for any future wishes unless I can get this sorted out.
I have to learn to enjoy what I already have.
But there was also a side of me that was thinking; just because I have trouble being happy doesn't mean I should just accept the things that aren't working in my life and wallpaper over them with some Jedi mind trick... "That's not the life you're looking for."
The trick is, how do you stay happy in the present, while not losing site of what can and should be changed? How can change be transformed from lack and "broken" to simply "different".
And if all it is, is different, is that worth doing at all?
M
Last we spoke, I was having trouble relaxing and enjoying what is. I was facing 2 days of unplanned activities and I felt a bit panicky. I'm not used to having free time, between work, cooking, cleaning, child care and visiting the parental units. How did I handle it? Well on Saturday I picked a fight with my husband. It seems I can't leave well enough alone.
What was the fight about? This time, work. And about what would actually make me happy. You see, I've been complaining about my work for as long as he's known me. He understands my frustration, as he has similarly banged his head against the wall with his photography. I like to think we're both talented people who haven't caught a break. His work is really stunning, actually. I remember when we met he told me he was a photographer and I was a bit worried. What if his stuff was terrible? I'm not a good liar, what would I say then? Fortunately that wasn't a problem.
So back to the fight. I felt like he wasn't supporting my journey to be a happier person, to find out what worked for me, even if that meant doing things slightly differently, living in another city, or perhaps "downsizing" in a tradeoff for freedom. I felt like fear was guiding his feelings and he was more worried about safety than my happiness.
But as is so often the case with James, the argument wasn't that simple. What he was expressing was actually hitting very close to home - would changing the outside world somehow provide the magical answer I was looking for that would make me happy? That really pissed me off. And that's when I knew I'd better listen.
He pointed out the numerous things we had and that I had wished for in the past (a baby, then a healthy baby, then a new place, a bigger place, a nicer view, more money). I had to admit that I had them all and yet here I was still reflecting on what wasn't good enough. It makes him feel inadequate, because no matter what he does, he cannot fix this for me, or make me happy.
That really got me because it's not the first time I've heard it. And I don't mean from him.
So, after a minor freak-out where I felt hurt and unsupported and angry, I had to admit he was right - I have a lot of trouble taking joy in the every day things that I have, in spite of how great they are. I mean, if you'd told me 10 years ago that I'd have a doting husband who thought I was the greatest, a healthy baby girl, a lovely place to live and a job that pays as well as it does, I would have thought you were dreaming. That it all happened, and I can't appreciate it, doesn't bode well for any future wishes unless I can get this sorted out.
I have to learn to enjoy what I already have.
But there was also a side of me that was thinking; just because I have trouble being happy doesn't mean I should just accept the things that aren't working in my life and wallpaper over them with some Jedi mind trick... "That's not the life you're looking for."
The trick is, how do you stay happy in the present, while not losing site of what can and should be changed? How can change be transformed from lack and "broken" to simply "different".
And if all it is, is different, is that worth doing at all?
M
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Learning to Relax
I'm an endless striver.
In some ways, that works very well for me. I finished a masters degree, have attained a pretty high level of success in my career and have written 7 feature film screenplays and a book. If I didn't have this ability to defer gratification and work towards a goal, none of these things would have happened.
But there is a down side.
Ambition can leave you unhappy with what you already have and wanting more. This weekend I decided to do nothing as I was exhausted from a very active schedule over the past few months. By Friday at about 6PM it was clear I had nothing on my plate for work for the weekend. I had deferred visits with friends too, in order to get some downtime. Should have been bliss, right? All I could think about was "what could we be doing this weekend?" Should we go and look at houses? Should we go shopping?
I couldn't just relax and do nothing. It felt wrong.
I think it actually points to an inability to be happy with what "is." We have a perfectly lovely condo we're leasing until (we hope) the Toronto housing market calms the eff down (more on that insanity later). Even if we have to leave because the landlord decides to sell, it won't be until February. So why look at houses now? It just sets up longing for something we don't have.
A few days ago I posted about wanting another baby. There's nothing wrong with that, in and of itself, but I think about it so much I sometimes don't focus on the one that I have! We got very lucky with Char and we likely won't get that lucky again. I should be enjoying her, every day, instead of thinking of some future day when I may or may not be pregnant. If I don't address this issue, I'll probably find something else to long for, even when pregnant or holding a newborn!
So, how do you take a quality that is very positive in some situations and turn it off for others? Is there a way to reframe desires and wants so that they don't make you miserable?
Will I ever learn to truly relax and enjoy what is?
I think I'm starting to understand what I want from this year. Here's the list so far:
1. Enjoy my work - more importantly do the work that I am meant to do
2. Learning to relax - be happy with what is, without losing site of other goals
Things I'm still on the fence about:
3. Having a second child
Char got us up at 5am this morning for no discernible reason and I had a real "are you crazy" moment about having another. Maybe it's unrealistic to expect you'll love every minute of parenting. This worries me.
More to come in the days ahead. My health is a biggie and one that I've neglected in a way that surprises me. For a smart person I sure do some dumb things.
In the meantime, enjoy your weekend! I will try!
M
In some ways, that works very well for me. I finished a masters degree, have attained a pretty high level of success in my career and have written 7 feature film screenplays and a book. If I didn't have this ability to defer gratification and work towards a goal, none of these things would have happened.
But there is a down side.
Ambition can leave you unhappy with what you already have and wanting more. This weekend I decided to do nothing as I was exhausted from a very active schedule over the past few months. By Friday at about 6PM it was clear I had nothing on my plate for work for the weekend. I had deferred visits with friends too, in order to get some downtime. Should have been bliss, right? All I could think about was "what could we be doing this weekend?" Should we go and look at houses? Should we go shopping?
I couldn't just relax and do nothing. It felt wrong.
I think it actually points to an inability to be happy with what "is." We have a perfectly lovely condo we're leasing until (we hope) the Toronto housing market calms the eff down (more on that insanity later). Even if we have to leave because the landlord decides to sell, it won't be until February. So why look at houses now? It just sets up longing for something we don't have.
A few days ago I posted about wanting another baby. There's nothing wrong with that, in and of itself, but I think about it so much I sometimes don't focus on the one that I have! We got very lucky with Char and we likely won't get that lucky again. I should be enjoying her, every day, instead of thinking of some future day when I may or may not be pregnant. If I don't address this issue, I'll probably find something else to long for, even when pregnant or holding a newborn!
So, how do you take a quality that is very positive in some situations and turn it off for others? Is there a way to reframe desires and wants so that they don't make you miserable?
Will I ever learn to truly relax and enjoy what is?
I think I'm starting to understand what I want from this year. Here's the list so far:
1. Enjoy my work - more importantly do the work that I am meant to do
2. Learning to relax - be happy with what is, without losing site of other goals
Things I'm still on the fence about:
3. Having a second child
Char got us up at 5am this morning for no discernible reason and I had a real "are you crazy" moment about having another. Maybe it's unrealistic to expect you'll love every minute of parenting. This worries me.
More to come in the days ahead. My health is a biggie and one that I've neglected in a way that surprises me. For a smart person I sure do some dumb things.
In the meantime, enjoy your weekend! I will try!
M
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
I Want Another Baby...And I Don't Know Why
There. I said it. I finally admitted it. I want another baby...
I must be out of my mind. I write this blog post as my daughter wails in the background, reluctant to go to bed at 10:20 in the evening. She is less than 2. This is less than good.
Nights like this make the desire to have a second baby fade, for a while at least. But back it will come, popping its head up like a persistent weed that refuses to be rooted out.
"Why not have a second?" people opine, usually followed by some declaration that "only" children are lonely. Or that I'm not really that old. Or that my life is already taken over by one baby, so two is not a big deal (like they're dogs or something). I'm not sure I buy any of this.
To be honest there are so many more reasons to NOT have a second than to have one, I question my sanity. Maybe it's the fact that I'm 43, fat, out of shape, in a high pressure job that I can barely cope with right now, with a chronically ill husband, living in a city where we can't afford a 3 bedroom home.
Maybe.
And yet the feeling persists.
Days after Charlotte was born, I started thinking about it. We'd always assumed "just one." That we have Char at all is a minor miracle.
I know what you're thinking - it must have been a beautiful birth, or an easy pregnancy to make me want to do it again so soon.
Actually it was a gong show with every medical intervention known to man. It was horrible. It was supposed to be a natural birth, complete with doula and midwife. We even did weeks of preparation with Hypnobirthing. When I think back to how smug we were about the whole experience I cringe. Did I really think I would feel no pain? Mothers who had gone before me probably fought the urge to shake me by the shoulders and yell - this will hurt! Take the drugs!
More than two weeks late, I was induced (a particular form of cruelty IMHO) and couldn't handle the pain, breaking down after 18 hours and pleading for an epidural. I later found out I had an infection that would have made anyone's labour (even the most stoic, or yogic) excruciating. A failed epidural, 6 more hours of oxytocin and a mishandled spinal block that left me unable to breathe led up to Char emerging via c-section. They were in such a hurry they neglected to bring my husband in to witness the birth. Every single thing we wanted for Char's birth went out the window and I was devastated for a while. But we had her, and that was all that mattered in the end.
So, I figured the longing at the beginning was to somehow "right the wrongs" of Char's birth. And to me, that wasn't a good reason to have a second. So I waited for those feelings to pass. And some feelings did pass - my shame at not being able to stand the pain, my upset with the way things had gone and my disappointment that we didn't get the birth we wanted.
But the feelings of wanting a second persisted.
Then I went back to work. That was a real eye opener. After spending 24 hours a day at home, being at work all day, (even though I knew she was with her daddy), was torturous. I wanted to be home with her, to be back to the period when it was just our little family and I had time to do things. Women often complain about never being able to get things done with a baby. I know quite a few women who seek solace in work, taking a welcome break from parenting. I never had that and I wish I did. It's the job + baby that leaves me gasping for air. So I thought, maybe I just want another year off work? Also not a good reason to have a second baby. I looked at our finances and figured out we probably couldn't afford for me to take another year anyway. Case closed.
And yet the feelings persisted.
Of course I talked to my husband about this nagging feeling, to see if he felt it too. He understood, as he always does, but reminded me that he is in fact very ill and not exactly a young man any more. That although he adores Char, it takes everything he has to keep up with her every day and that two kids would probably kill him. And I remember just how difficult Char's birth was on our relationship. Two control freaks trying to raise a baby can be a bit of a struggle. After two years, we're pretty much back to normal, although 99% of our fights to this day are about how to raise our daughter. A new baby would more than likely bring all of that back up again.
But, you guessed it. The feelings persist.
What do you do when you want something that's a really bad idea? Do you just ignore it? Try to understand it? Analyze it? Wish it away? I'm not sure. Is this any different from wanting to eat nothing but ice cream or sell everything and move to Hawaii, or take up smoking, or cut all your hair off and dye it platinum? Is it just like any other naughty "craving" that should be acknowledged and dismissed?
My daughter stands in front of me now, still not asleep at 11:45PM. She's learning to pronounce her name as we speak, interspersed with "mommy" and requests for yogurt and berries. This morning she said "hug" and wrapped her little arms around me as I tried to race out the door to work. Gah.
She's been a night owl from day one (actually before that - she only woke up at about this time when she was in utero) and has never really stopped going "crackers" after 10PM. She and my husband share that quality, although I don't. It's made for a lot of sleepless nights for me.
Nauseous, anxious, worried, uncomfortable, exhausted, in pain, in agony, in recovery, in love...
Is it any wonder I want another?
I must be out of my mind. I write this blog post as my daughter wails in the background, reluctant to go to bed at 10:20 in the evening. She is less than 2. This is less than good.
Nights like this make the desire to have a second baby fade, for a while at least. But back it will come, popping its head up like a persistent weed that refuses to be rooted out.
"Why not have a second?" people opine, usually followed by some declaration that "only" children are lonely. Or that I'm not really that old. Or that my life is already taken over by one baby, so two is not a big deal (like they're dogs or something). I'm not sure I buy any of this.
To be honest there are so many more reasons to NOT have a second than to have one, I question my sanity. Maybe it's the fact that I'm 43, fat, out of shape, in a high pressure job that I can barely cope with right now, with a chronically ill husband, living in a city where we can't afford a 3 bedroom home.
Maybe.
And yet the feeling persists.
Days after Charlotte was born, I started thinking about it. We'd always assumed "just one." That we have Char at all is a minor miracle.
I know what you're thinking - it must have been a beautiful birth, or an easy pregnancy to make me want to do it again so soon.
Actually it was a gong show with every medical intervention known to man. It was horrible. It was supposed to be a natural birth, complete with doula and midwife. We even did weeks of preparation with Hypnobirthing. When I think back to how smug we were about the whole experience I cringe. Did I really think I would feel no pain? Mothers who had gone before me probably fought the urge to shake me by the shoulders and yell - this will hurt! Take the drugs!
More than two weeks late, I was induced (a particular form of cruelty IMHO) and couldn't handle the pain, breaking down after 18 hours and pleading for an epidural. I later found out I had an infection that would have made anyone's labour (even the most stoic, or yogic) excruciating. A failed epidural, 6 more hours of oxytocin and a mishandled spinal block that left me unable to breathe led up to Char emerging via c-section. They were in such a hurry they neglected to bring my husband in to witness the birth. Every single thing we wanted for Char's birth went out the window and I was devastated for a while. But we had her, and that was all that mattered in the end.
So, I figured the longing at the beginning was to somehow "right the wrongs" of Char's birth. And to me, that wasn't a good reason to have a second. So I waited for those feelings to pass. And some feelings did pass - my shame at not being able to stand the pain, my upset with the way things had gone and my disappointment that we didn't get the birth we wanted.
But the feelings of wanting a second persisted.
Then I went back to work. That was a real eye opener. After spending 24 hours a day at home, being at work all day, (even though I knew she was with her daddy), was torturous. I wanted to be home with her, to be back to the period when it was just our little family and I had time to do things. Women often complain about never being able to get things done with a baby. I know quite a few women who seek solace in work, taking a welcome break from parenting. I never had that and I wish I did. It's the job + baby that leaves me gasping for air. So I thought, maybe I just want another year off work? Also not a good reason to have a second baby. I looked at our finances and figured out we probably couldn't afford for me to take another year anyway. Case closed.
And yet the feelings persisted.
Of course I talked to my husband about this nagging feeling, to see if he felt it too. He understood, as he always does, but reminded me that he is in fact very ill and not exactly a young man any more. That although he adores Char, it takes everything he has to keep up with her every day and that two kids would probably kill him. And I remember just how difficult Char's birth was on our relationship. Two control freaks trying to raise a baby can be a bit of a struggle. After two years, we're pretty much back to normal, although 99% of our fights to this day are about how to raise our daughter. A new baby would more than likely bring all of that back up again.
But, you guessed it. The feelings persist.
What do you do when you want something that's a really bad idea? Do you just ignore it? Try to understand it? Analyze it? Wish it away? I'm not sure. Is this any different from wanting to eat nothing but ice cream or sell everything and move to Hawaii, or take up smoking, or cut all your hair off and dye it platinum? Is it just like any other naughty "craving" that should be acknowledged and dismissed?
My daughter stands in front of me now, still not asleep at 11:45PM. She's learning to pronounce her name as we speak, interspersed with "mommy" and requests for yogurt and berries. This morning she said "hug" and wrapped her little arms around me as I tried to race out the door to work. Gah.
She's been a night owl from day one (actually before that - she only woke up at about this time when she was in utero) and has never really stopped going "crackers" after 10PM. She and my husband share that quality, although I don't. It's made for a lot of sleepless nights for me.
Nauseous, anxious, worried, uncomfortable, exhausted, in pain, in agony, in recovery, in love...
Is it any wonder I want another?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
If Only It Were That Easy
After a two week hiatus from hotmail, due to some unknown transgression and for which there was no remediation until this morning, I waded through 500 messages that had been languishing in my inbox since the account was inexplicably locked.
The headline that caught my eye was "10 Careers That Will Make You Happy" and was one of only 5 emails I saved from the entire lot. That's the top 1% for you numbers people.
Here are the pearls of wisdom offered by Women's Health.com:
"Creative Careers: Get Crafty
The headline that caught my eye was "10 Careers That Will Make You Happy" and was one of only 5 emails I saved from the entire lot. That's the top 1% for you numbers people.
Here are the pearls of wisdom offered by Women's Health.com:
"Creative Careers: Get Crafty
Got a talent? Then do something with it — research shows that creating something of value for your living can work miracles for your emotional health. According to the GSS, 74 percent of writers, 67 percent of sculptors, and 67 percent of painters say they are very satisfied with their jobs. What’s so great about creative careers? Having the freedom to express yourself can be an emotional outlet (and you can make money while you do it!)."
Sigh.
You see, I've been trying to work as a writer since 1996. I went to the "best" screenwriting school in the world, UCLA, receiving an MFA in Screenwriting. I followed it off with a stint at the Canadian Film Centre. I got very close, on a number of occasions. I still remember the tense, yet delicious feeling that 5 different studio heads had my script over one weekend. I also remember what Monday felt like when the "no's" started to trickle in. We were pre-selected for Cannes with a film I penned - surely this must be the beginning. No. Nothing. Money from the Harold Greenberg Fund! Glowing reader reports - this must be it! No. Nothing. Nada.
And here I sit, 15 years later, still hoping to make some kind of a career in writing happen.
We are a generation that was told "you can do anything" and we believed it. It was a good and supportive thing to say to your children instead of "get a job" or "marry rich" in the case of so many daughters. But it put our head in the clouds, I think. And it means we're never satisfied with what we do have. My mother lamented the fact that all of us had aimed so high. She wishes sometimes that one of us would have been a "happy hairdresser" instead of all this endless striving and stressing.
I have a "good" job; a salary that most people would be thrilled with (as am I, that's never been an issue) but it wasn't what I set out to do and it's miles away from a "creative" career that the site above so blithely pitches as completely attainable. So how can that be anything but a failure?
As I remind myself and people I complain to, all I ever wanted was to enjoy what I did for a living. I never dreamed about getting married, or having babies, or having some big house. I dreamed about having a fulfilling career. Seriously. Ask my family.
I honestly think this might be the crux of it; why I'm so unable to be happy in the moment. I failed. I'm still failing. And yet I keep trying. Does that make me tenacious? Or stupid?
I don't know what I'll tell my little girl about her career. Probably to figure out what comes naturally to her, feels easy AND has a market that isn't a nightmare to break into. Maybe she'll listen, maybe she won't. I'm pretty sure I won't tell her she can do "anything". Because she can't. If finding true happiness is figuring out why you're on the planet and what makes you special, then limiting your choices down to those that fit your talents can't be a bad thing, can it?
Perhaps I should get myself sorted before worrying about my 2 year old child.
Isn't it amazing how much easier it is to advise others how to fix things than to apply that same thinking to ourselves? Advice rolls off our tongues. We tell others to "follow their bliss", or "live their dreams" or "make it happen."
If only it were that easy.
Sigh.
You see, I've been trying to work as a writer since 1996. I went to the "best" screenwriting school in the world, UCLA, receiving an MFA in Screenwriting. I followed it off with a stint at the Canadian Film Centre. I got very close, on a number of occasions. I still remember the tense, yet delicious feeling that 5 different studio heads had my script over one weekend. I also remember what Monday felt like when the "no's" started to trickle in. We were pre-selected for Cannes with a film I penned - surely this must be the beginning. No. Nothing. Money from the Harold Greenberg Fund! Glowing reader reports - this must be it! No. Nothing. Nada.
And here I sit, 15 years later, still hoping to make some kind of a career in writing happen.
We are a generation that was told "you can do anything" and we believed it. It was a good and supportive thing to say to your children instead of "get a job" or "marry rich" in the case of so many daughters. But it put our head in the clouds, I think. And it means we're never satisfied with what we do have. My mother lamented the fact that all of us had aimed so high. She wishes sometimes that one of us would have been a "happy hairdresser" instead of all this endless striving and stressing.
I have a "good" job; a salary that most people would be thrilled with (as am I, that's never been an issue) but it wasn't what I set out to do and it's miles away from a "creative" career that the site above so blithely pitches as completely attainable. So how can that be anything but a failure?
As I remind myself and people I complain to, all I ever wanted was to enjoy what I did for a living. I never dreamed about getting married, or having babies, or having some big house. I dreamed about having a fulfilling career. Seriously. Ask my family.
I honestly think this might be the crux of it; why I'm so unable to be happy in the moment. I failed. I'm still failing. And yet I keep trying. Does that make me tenacious? Or stupid?
I don't know what I'll tell my little girl about her career. Probably to figure out what comes naturally to her, feels easy AND has a market that isn't a nightmare to break into. Maybe she'll listen, maybe she won't. I'm pretty sure I won't tell her she can do "anything". Because she can't. If finding true happiness is figuring out why you're on the planet and what makes you special, then limiting your choices down to those that fit your talents can't be a bad thing, can it?
Perhaps I should get myself sorted before worrying about my 2 year old child.
Isn't it amazing how much easier it is to advise others how to fix things than to apply that same thinking to ourselves? Advice rolls off our tongues. We tell others to "follow their bliss", or "live their dreams" or "make it happen."
If only it were that easy.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
To My Husband: Happy Father's Day
I was scrambling this morning, trying to figure out how to adequately show you how much I think of you and how amazing a daddy you are. The fact that I left it to this morning says much more about me than it does you (and is the reason for this blog) and I apologize for not doing a better job of making you feel special.
Because you are special.
I am in awe of your parenting. The endless enthusiasm and interest you have for Char is truly amazing. She is a wonderful little girl and we are beyond lucky to have her, but she is also a handful, a busy little person and quite an imp. If she isn't getting up on the table, she's bouncing on the couch, or testing her ability to scoop dangerous kitchen tools off the counter. She wants our attention, all the time, and gratefully, she thinks we're the best thing in the world. We should enjoy it while it lasts because it won't be long before she's embarrassed by us and longing for her independence.
You play with her, you color with her, you wrestle and chase her, feed her, change her, bathe her, dress her, bring her to the park and answer the endless calls for "Daddy" with a smile and with service. As an added bonus, you document her every move, her every meal, diaper and hour of sleep. Oh and you take beautiful pictures too.
She is the luckiest girl I know to have you.
And truth be known, sometimes I'm jealous. I have to work and be away from her for 8 hours or more a day and it's hard to know you have this time with her. That you hear new words and discover new skills while I'm off earning a buck. But I also have to be honest, in spite of the fact that I miss her terribly when I'm at work, you are the best person for the job. I'm not saying I'm not a good mother, I'm saying you're an excellent parent, full of patience and persistence. You're far more playful than I've allowed myself to be. She needs this right now.
That you do all of this with a searing headache, sore joints and feeling like you have been hit by a truck is truly miraculous. Please, never, ever focus on what you "can't" do for her, or what someone who was "healthy" would do differently - you already do more than any man (or woman) that I know.
So, no eCard, no"real" card, gift certificate, ice cream cake, mug or t-shirt could do you justice.
I hope this will.
Happy Father's Day love.
Mel (and Char)
Because you are special.
I am in awe of your parenting. The endless enthusiasm and interest you have for Char is truly amazing. She is a wonderful little girl and we are beyond lucky to have her, but she is also a handful, a busy little person and quite an imp. If she isn't getting up on the table, she's bouncing on the couch, or testing her ability to scoop dangerous kitchen tools off the counter. She wants our attention, all the time, and gratefully, she thinks we're the best thing in the world. We should enjoy it while it lasts because it won't be long before she's embarrassed by us and longing for her independence.
You play with her, you color with her, you wrestle and chase her, feed her, change her, bathe her, dress her, bring her to the park and answer the endless calls for "Daddy" with a smile and with service. As an added bonus, you document her every move, her every meal, diaper and hour of sleep. Oh and you take beautiful pictures too.
She is the luckiest girl I know to have you.
And truth be known, sometimes I'm jealous. I have to work and be away from her for 8 hours or more a day and it's hard to know you have this time with her. That you hear new words and discover new skills while I'm off earning a buck. But I also have to be honest, in spite of the fact that I miss her terribly when I'm at work, you are the best person for the job. I'm not saying I'm not a good mother, I'm saying you're an excellent parent, full of patience and persistence. You're far more playful than I've allowed myself to be. She needs this right now.
That you do all of this with a searing headache, sore joints and feeling like you have been hit by a truck is truly miraculous. Please, never, ever focus on what you "can't" do for her, or what someone who was "healthy" would do differently - you already do more than any man (or woman) that I know.
So, no eCard, no"real" card, gift certificate, ice cream cake, mug or t-shirt could do you justice.
I hope this will.
Happy Father's Day love.
Mel (and Char)
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Complaints
I find myself complaining a lot.
I complain about my weight, my job, my health, where we live, how we live, how I look, my grey hair, my "square bum", the traffic, the city (I almost said "accursed city" but then realized that would be complaining too), how tired I am, how tired I look... God knows how my husband puts up with it all. He just told me that I only complain about everything I have to do every day (work, traffic, city, driving, the weather). Mostly, he says "you complain about your environment." Yikes.
I guess I have my good points too.
But I think the thing I complain about most is the pace of life. Am I just getting old and grouchy? Am I in some way depressed, as every other commercial for an SSRI would suggest? Or is there something to this? As I get older, and my life gets more complicated (husband, daughter, increased job "success") have things really gotten so out of control, or am I imposing this on myself, needlessly?
I cannot tell you how many people complain about "not having enough time" or being "stressed out". It's an epidemic. We know that our forefathers worked much harder than we did (or were told that they did) and complained less. But do we really know that? Maybe they bitched and moaned about plowing the fields, milking the cows, churning the butter or rearing their ten kids. Maybe they worked less than 40-50 hours a week. I need to look into this. Someone has been fibbing.
Let's look at one of the first modern conveniences - washing machines (circa 1910-1940). These miraculous devices were supposed to "save us time". Where did all that time go? Are we using it for leisure time? Or did we essentially layoff an entire sector of our society? 100 years ago, someone with our family income would have had paid "domestic help." Now? We feel guilty about needing help. We are encouraged to be self-sufficient, "perfect housekeepers" - more than 50 years after we have been "liberated". Except now we're supposed to be sexy/skinny, stylish and tireless. Oh and titans of industry, primary breadwinners and fertile.
Where did the time go? Where did the extra money go?
I'm going to attempt to unravel this mess, this problem of feeling overwhelmed, stressed and "out of time" ...and I am perfectly willing to accept that I am a whiner, if that's what I find.
Are you with me? Let's figure this out.
M
I complain about my weight, my job, my health, where we live, how we live, how I look, my grey hair, my "square bum", the traffic, the city (I almost said "accursed city" but then realized that would be complaining too), how tired I am, how tired I look... God knows how my husband puts up with it all. He just told me that I only complain about everything I have to do every day (work, traffic, city, driving, the weather). Mostly, he says "you complain about your environment." Yikes.
I guess I have my good points too.
But I think the thing I complain about most is the pace of life. Am I just getting old and grouchy? Am I in some way depressed, as every other commercial for an SSRI would suggest? Or is there something to this? As I get older, and my life gets more complicated (husband, daughter, increased job "success") have things really gotten so out of control, or am I imposing this on myself, needlessly?
I cannot tell you how many people complain about "not having enough time" or being "stressed out". It's an epidemic. We know that our forefathers worked much harder than we did (or were told that they did) and complained less. But do we really know that? Maybe they bitched and moaned about plowing the fields, milking the cows, churning the butter or rearing their ten kids. Maybe they worked less than 40-50 hours a week. I need to look into this. Someone has been fibbing.
Let's look at one of the first modern conveniences - washing machines (circa 1910-1940). These miraculous devices were supposed to "save us time". Where did all that time go? Are we using it for leisure time? Or did we essentially layoff an entire sector of our society? 100 years ago, someone with our family income would have had paid "domestic help." Now? We feel guilty about needing help. We are encouraged to be self-sufficient, "perfect housekeepers" - more than 50 years after we have been "liberated". Except now we're supposed to be sexy/skinny, stylish and tireless. Oh and titans of industry, primary breadwinners and fertile.
Where did the time go? Where did the extra money go?
I'm going to attempt to unravel this mess, this problem of feeling overwhelmed, stressed and "out of time" ...and I am perfectly willing to accept that I am a whiner, if that's what I find.
Are you with me? Let's figure this out.
M
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