change of plans

Yesterday was May 30 - opening day for the Sex and the City movie that I have been drooling over for a year. Although I have only been to one (1) movie since Jane was born - the U23D movie - I was sure that I would be there for SATC the first day it opened, cosmo in hand, girl posse in tow.

Instead, I found myself at my friend Ken's wake last night. This was my former co-worker at The Record Journal, a mid-sized daily newspaper I used to write for after I got out of college. I did an internship there for Ken during my final semester, and after subsequently graduating and writing freelance stories and obits for a few months, I got a full-time reporter's gig covering arts and entertainment. And, yes, it was just about as awesome as you can imagine - free concerts, meals at restaurants, all the CDs you could imagine, tickets to shows, you name it - I covered it.

I sat right next to Ken for most of my time there. And when I say "next to," I mean "right next to." Newsrooms are not like the spacious ones you see on TV or in movies, at least not where I worked. It was just clusters of desks shoved together and a constant hum of phones ringing, interviews happening, scanners buzzing, and people talking.

Ken was one of several bosses I had during my time there, and he really was a phenomenal editor. His knowledge of the area we covered was unmatched. He grew up there, and knew everyone and everything about what we observed and recorded every day. I could go on and on, but truly, the thing I'll remember most about Ken is that he was freaking hilarious. He was one of the most sarcastic people I have ever known - a sarcasm mentor, if you will - and we laughed all. the. time. Sure, many times it was at my own expense, but I was constantly getting into trouble back then, and Ken had commentary for it all.

We had about a million inside jokes, many of which were ran through my head over the past several days. And over and over again this week, I found myself shaking my head. I couldn't believe he was gone. And I figured last night at the wake it would all sink in. But I still can't believe it. I really can't.

I know it must seem strange to be mourning someone who I haven't worked with for almost eight years. I did stay in contact with Ken, and most recently saw him about a year ago, he making fun of my ginormous pregnancy belly, and I ranking on him for wearing a tie to work (Ken was not known for his fancy attire) and his new office (with a door!), because he had just received a promotion.

But Ken was the reason I ever became a journalist. He was the reason I ever got paid to write. He taught me so much - a sentiment that was echoed by so many people at the service last night, whether by rookie reporters or the many hockey players that he coached that were in attendance. And by people like me - people who left the business nearly a decade ago but left a bit of herself in that newsroom.

I left the newspaper in late 2000 not because I didn't love it - because I did - and not because I wasn't good at it - because I was. I left because 10 months earlier my father had passed away, and I realized that I couldn't live a 24/7 newspaper life that was required of you if you were a reporter. It was very difficult to make plans, because you didn't know if you would be covering a story. I missed many birthday parties and holidays at the expense of a story. After my father died I knew I didn't want to miss out on another second of my life, so I made the jump. I sold out, as one not-so-close former co-worker put it.

Whenever I visited the newsroom after I left, Ken and I always fell right back into our jokey banter, as if I'd never left. But now he's really gone - and I still think I'll be shaking my head for a long, long time.

sad

I just found out that one of my editors and good friends at my old job in newspaperland died unexpectedly today. I am in real shock over this, because first of all, he was only 49, and second of all, it's totally fucked up, in the sense that whenever you hear about someone you really like dying it's totally fucked up. He was a good editor, a big factor in me becoming a writer who actually got paid for it, a hilarious and extremely sarcastic person, and a fine friend whose desk was squished up against mine for the better part of four years.

Say hi to Betty for me, Ken.

bitch and moan, moan and bitch

Well, this hasn't been my week, for various reasons, some of which I won't get into here, but if you've been on the receiving end of my bitching and moaning, thanks for lending an ear, and listening to me come up with creative new ways to swear and hate on life. And, I'm sure that I don't even have to write the part of this post where I report that Jane went back to daycare this week after our vacation, and wound up with a cold by Wednesday, which has only intensified over the past couple of days, and got me yesterday, rendering me completely energyless (yeah, it's a word. now.) today.

But.

I'm sick of complaining (yeah, you read that right) so let's focus on the good things right now. The weather! Ah, the weather. Finally. We've been waiting for you, lovely summertime temps and rain-free skies. The fact that it's a three day weekend is a great thing too, especially since it's relatively obligation free, until Monday. Which is when I start auditions for the show I'm co-directing this summer. Save the date - All Shook Up will rock the hizzouse at the SHS Fine Arts Center on July 25 and 26. And Alan, although I know you hate musicals, I am coming to see you in STAR TREK - THE KLINGTASTIC MUSICAL, so you have to come see my show. Oh, and speaking of shows, I went to see a pretty good one last night, Saved at Playwrights Horizons off-Broadway. And get this - Neil Patrick Harris was in the audience! And he looks dang good! Oh, and today is Jane's ten monthiversary! And to think, she's only been sick for seven of those ten months!

So I suppose that's about it for now. Pretty optimistic and cheery, coming from someone who got less than three hours of sleep last night and can't really breathe that well, huh?

read this book now.

You guys know how busy I am these days. And as much as I love to read, it took me three nights last week to finish the article about John McCain in New York magazine (perhaps it was the subject matter? I digress..) So when I tell you that I read a book (a real book, not Snuggle Puppy or Clifford's Peekaboo) in 24 hours this weekend, please take a moment to be duly impressed. The book in question was Schuyler's Monster.

I first came across the writing of Robert Rummel-Hudson in Wonder Time magazine, which is a fairly cool parenting magazine that I read every now and then. There was an excerpt of his book, Schuyler's Monster, in the issue, pegged as a story about how parenting can affect marriage. I quickly realized that while this excerpt did talk about issues that Robert and his wife Julie had in their marriage, it wasn't the typical new parents scared shitless issues. It focused on the problems they had after their daughter Schuyler (pronounced Skyler) was diagnosed with an extremely rare neurological disorder, bilateral perisylvian polymicrogyria, which is caused by a malformation of the brain.

Well, you know me. The moment I find out there might be a sad story in my entertainment, especially health related, I put down the magazine or book, turn off the TV, return the movie. I like my entertainment light with a side of frothy. However, there was something very intriguing about his story, and when I found his blog, Fighting Monsters with Rubber Swords, I was instantly hooked on the stories of the punky, adorable Schuyler and her Monster (which is what Robert calls her disorder).

I don't mean to candy coat it. In his blog and his book, Schulyer's Monster, Robert details the horrifying journey that began when his 18-month-old daughter's pediatrician asked him and his wife if Schuyler had begun speaking yet, and ended with the ultimate diagnosis of bilateral perisylvian polymicrogyria, which affects a large portion of Schuyler's brain. Thie malformation primarily presents itself by robbing Schuyler of the ability to speak.

The story will break your heart in about a million different ways. Robert's love for his daughter is palpable - which is what makes her diagnosis that much more painful. It is brutally honest - the aforementioned marriage problems are explored, the deep, dark fears he has for her future are mentioned often, and his conflicting feelings about God are woven throughout, never to be completely resolved.

But there is humor, lots of it, and a wealth of love and devotion for a child who he refers to as a "little rock star." And by the end, you will feel the same way about this engaging little girl. I swear, you'll want her autograph. More than that, you'll want to her hear speak with her Big Box Of Words.

Oh yes, Schuyler finds her voice, just not in the typical way. But she's definitely not a typical girl.

I know I sound ridiculously gushy, but as a parent, this book hit me hard. Because whether your child is diagnosed with something you've never heard of, or has a learning disorder, or is the most popular, straight-A kid in school, you're going to worry yourself sick. This is something I've learned over the past 10 months. Parenthood is great is all kinds of ways, but the primary feeling you have is worry. I felt for Robert and Julie as parents - and I will root for this little family every day, because, in short, they rock. And you'll root for them too.

Go read Schuyler's Monster. NOW.

wish you were here!

So here I am on my fabulous vacation....at home. And really, I wouldn't have it any other way. I've had a very enjoyable week so far. It's amazing how much more low-key I feel when I'm not rushing, rushing, rushing all the time. Jane has taken on some sort of weird sleeping schedule where she now naps at about 8:30 a.m. (very early), and the other night didn't go to sleep until 9 (very late). Last night she woke up crying every hour on the hour. Who knows what's up with that crazy lady. She's really on the verge of crawling, so maybe that's messing with her mind.

On Sunday, I celebrated my first Mother's Day by going to my mom's (makes sense, no?). In the afternoon, Greg, Jane, Jimmy, Junior and I took a walk down in West Hartford Center. As it turns out, Mother's Day is the busiest day ever down there, or at least as busy as I've ever seen it. Junior chose that day to be a real pain in the ass, which doesn't always work out when people want to pet him all the time. The whole thing was pretty exhausting, and I have to say that these dogs are lucky we feel guilty all the time, because they would never take as many road trips as they do now, if we treated them like dogs instead of like humans.

The past couple of days I've seen some friends, which has been great, I went to the library, because I'm a nerd, I've spent too much money, I contemplated buying a dress for a wedding I have to go to on Sunday, because the only one I have that fits right is black - is it OK to wear black to a Sunday wedding in May? Probably not, huh? But I don't want to buy a whole new dress that I will only wear once this year. Pathetically, I have only one event on the calendar this year that requires a dress. I'm a fancy pants, don't ya know.

I also am looking ahead to the next few weeks with a little trepidation. I won't be home three nights next week (two due to work and one due to social) and the next week I have three nights of auditions for All Shook Up and the the first read-through. I can't believe that rehearsals are almost here. Life is about to get super-crazed, so I'm so glad that I took this time off while I could.

It really has been great to spend all this time with Jane. If you told me two years ago that an ideal vacation for me would be to hang around a baby all day, I would have rolled my eyes. But It's been so nice to be in control of her day and get to spend the good part of the day with her, not just the busy mornings and nights. Well, perhaps it's not an ideal vacation - if we were doing all of this in San Diego, well, then it would be ideal.

like mother, like daughter

At around 6 p.m. every night, you can count on Jane to get a bit cranky. I have found one trick that ALWAYS makes her happy. I log on to the Sex and the City movie site, load up the trailer, and play it a whole bunch of times. Maybe it's a little unorthodox, and I'm sure I'm frying her tender little brain cells in front of the computer, but it puts a smile on her face EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

Me too! Can't wait for May 30!

mother's day

Well, it's my first official Mother's Day. And instead of a big smarmy post about how great I think it is to be a mom - how all of the hard work, no sleep, insane amounts of worry, and persistant pounds that refuse to go away is completely and totally 100% worth it - I will tell you that, man, I feel old! I know at the ripe old age of 34 I'm hardly "babies having babies" over here, but for some reason, Mother's Day seems like something old people should be celebrating. Anyway, it's still cool, because as you all know, I love s*** like this, and I love getting little presents and cards, and so I'm pretty psyched. I'm heading off to my mom's in a little bit, but I wanted to say Happy Mother's Day to all of you moms out there, whether you are mom to a kid, or a cat, or a dog, or a fish, or a friend, or whathaveyou. You rock!

PS Shane, go visit your mom (there is your second shout out - are you happy?).

infestation

This whole entirely fucked up nasty event happened on Tuesday night that involved literally hundreds of mosquitoes. Shane asked if I was going to write about it on the blog; I said that it was way too long a story to type, plus it works better if I act it out for you live. Instead, I present you with this haiku:

The mosquitoes came.
They invaded my whole house.
Now they are gone. Phew.

The end.

hey! look up there!

Did you notice my super cool and cute new banner (with just a dash of snarkiness)?? I'm sure you can already guess who created it for me. What? You thought it was me? My, my, my, you know nothing about my design skillz then. Instead, I give you the one and only Lisa, the artist of all trades. Now, pop over to her site and buy something, dammit. Mother's Day is just around the corner.

You truly brightened my day with this one, Artsy Fartsy.

fun like a hole in the head

One of the blogs I pop over to every now and again, Brooklyn Girl, made a statement in a recent post that mirrors exactly how I feel these days. She said:

I want to have fun. I want to be fun. I just don't remember how.

If you've been on the receiving end of any sort of communication from me in the past six days, whether it be this blog, an email, a phone call or, God bless you, an actual face-to-face conversation, you know the drill: Jane is sick. I am sick. Greg is sick. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. This time it was a stomach bug. She and I are still shaking off the last bits of it; luckily, Greg managed to escape this one (knock wood) with only some mild nausea. Last week was supposed to be a regrouping week for me at work, in between two super-busy weeks, and instead, I only got a couple of days in before the rest was eaten up by sick days. Now I'm in the weeds more than ever.

Sending Jane off to daycare today was hard. I knew she wasn't exactly 100% - her mood was great, but I knew her stomach still was a little touchy, so I told the teachers to feed her gently, don't let her bounce around too much after eating, no weird foods, just bananas and rice cereal. They are great, and when I picked her up at the end of the day, she had had a pretty good day, despite the fact that she got less than an hour nap the whole time (this should be illegal). But I know another sickness is right around the corner.

The first year of daycare is the roughest, everyone tells me. It's always like this. It helps build their immune systems. Pardon me for not being thrilled that she has had a runny nose for a good half of her life. And, please, after the hand/foot/mouth drama and this latest stomach monster, a runny nose is practically welcomed with a ticker tape parade. I scoff at you, runny nose.

I, as you can see, am a little bit of a mess. I know exactly how Brooklyn Girl feels. Every day the past week I've felt like I have barely kept it together, at the very brink of losing it at any moment, never mind actually having or being any fun. I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel sick. I feel like a nag. I feel like I'm spending too much money on Infant's Tylenol. I'm tired of being sicked upon. I. Just. Want. Jane. To. Be. Healthy. Is that too much to ask?

I know there are people with real problems. No one has to tell me this. I know I am lucky. No one has to tell me this either. I remind myself all the time. But I do, from time to time, permit myself a big ol' "WHY ME?" Why does it seem like we can't get one nice sunny weekend, where no one is sick, nothing is broken, everyone is happy, and everyone can actually recharge?

I want to have fun. I want to be fun. I just don't remember how.

gross ick nasty ugh

Look, I know this is horrible in absolutely every way, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to thinking it a wee bit funny. Particularly because I spent the better part of the morning with my head in the toilet, because I caught Jane's stomach bug overnight. For those of you counting, I have now taken 2 1/2 days off of work this week due to daycare-related illness, both on the parts of me and Jane. She's happy as a loon right now, while I'm at the point where I truly and honestly can't even lift her up, I'm so weak. Thank God Greg is working from home today, or I would have had to call my mommy.

the weather. we are under it.

So, everyone in Casa Me, My Dogs, My Life is sickity sick sick sick. I got the call around noon that Jane had a stomach bug (I will refrain from the details) and both Greg and I have a cold. We are all still recovering. Poor Jane! I hate seeing her sick and I want her to be better, stat. For those of you keeping track, this is the fifth illness in a month and a half. I could go on and on for paragraphs about all the reasons why I am miserable and so sick (literally and figuratively) of daycare, etc, etc, on and on, et al, to infinity and beyond. But instead, I will tell you the one reason I am glad I'm home sick today:

The cast of Sex and the City is on Oprah today! Hells to the yeah! I'm psyched.

I am also posting this pic of Jane that Lisa posted on her blog the other day - she took it at a party we were all at on Friday night, in ye olden days of healthiness. This is one of my favorite pics of Jane yet!

what have you done for me, lately?

Dear Blog,

Hey! Remember me? It's me - Jimmy! Yeah, the old lady keeps forgetting to talk about me on the blog now, because of that little drooly thing she's always lugging around. What is WITH that thing, anyway? It cries and poops and makes a mess, and she still won't get rid of it. Wait a minute - now that I think about it, it does sound a little bit like me.

Anyway, the old lady calls this blog "Me, my dogs, my life" but me and my bro are never featured anymore, which is obviously wicked lame. We've been pretty busy, after all. We've been going down to my new boat with the old guy, who tries to fix things on it and spends a lot of time screaming and yelling at boat parts. But Junior and I have a lot of fun. I'm glad they finally bought a boat for me, because I have my sea legs and I wanna use them!

I've been spending a lot of my time barking at the neighbors and birds and squirrels and stuff. Now that it's light out early in the morning, I can kick things off before 6 a.m., but for some reason, I'm always getting yelled at for it. Well, who's going to tell them about the rabbits in the backyard, if I don't? Yeesh.

I've also been enjoying the new toys that the drooly thing has. There are lots of nice, brand new stuffed animals and plastic things that I've enjoyed ripping apart. Hey, she's not using them - why can't I? The drool-factory has also been eating some delicious new foods, and whenever I can, I have a taste too.

So that's about it here. They've been ignoring me, so if anyone wants to invite me over or take me on a field trip this summer, I'm game, and my bro is too. This place has gotten way lame.

Peace,

Jimmy

homework

Isn't it ironic that I busted everyone's butts about not blogging, and then I've been MIA for a week? Blame it on the work, my friends. Blame it on the work.

I am emerging from the chaos with a long list of homework for the weekend. I am very backed up on my assignments, and here is what has to be done:

• Read the past two weeks' worth of New York magazine
• Read the mast two months' worth of In Style magazine
• Read last month's Oprah magazine (shut up, my mom gives it to me)
• Read last month's Parenting magazine (yeah, I need a manual)
• Speaking of which, read the "the tenth month" chapter in What to Expect the First Year
• Finish reading Good in Bed by Jennifer Weiner
• Start my book club book, Nineteen Minutes
• Attend to my DVR backup, which includes:
• Two episodes of "Top Chef"
• Nine episodes of "Sex and the City"
• Three episodes of "The Colbert Report"
• Two episodes of "The Daily Show"
• One episode of "America's Next Top Model"
• One episode of "Work Out"
• One episode of "The Bachelor: London Calling" (shut up)
• One episode of "The Hills" (I'm not apologizing)
• One showing of "John Oliver: Terrifying Times"
• One episode of "Desperate Housewives"

I'm very far behind, as you can see. I would hardly win the pop culture Olympics at this point. I don't even think I'd place.

Why do I feel like I've totally outed myself as a complete tool in this post? Oh, like you didn't know that already.

the street where I live

I grew up on a kid-packed street. My best friends now are the ones I grew up with in small-town Connecticut. I cannot stress enough how awesome it is that, at age 34, I've known most of my closest peeps for almost 27 years. They have been through every stage of life with me (for better or for worse - this also means they have a lot of photographic evidence of me in the 80s). I had a truly ideal situation growing up. I'd often leave my house in the morning, not to return for the rest of the day, because, hey! We had forts to build, clubs to form, bikes to ride, hikes to take.

So, I have been pretty dismayed at the fact that our neighborhood seemingly is comprised of 99.9% old people, my next door neighbors who have a 2 year old and a 4(ish) year old, and us. I really do like the next door neighbors and hope that they and Jane become fast friends, but I was hoping for more potential friends for her (and me!) in da 'hood. Lots of my friends have kids, and Jane will hang with them, of course, but I really wanted some kids close by, too. I know, I know, I'm greedy.

You can imagine my delight this evening, then, while taking Jane on a stroll in this fabulous weather, when I ran into a woman who lives down the street and around the corner with a NINE MONTH OLD BABY BOY!! YEAH!!! And, I have to say, I think she may have been equally psyched to see me. I am really happy about this new development, and we already said that we will have to get together soon.

Why do I feel like I'm in junior high all over again?

succinct

Jane = sick. Third sickness in a week and a half.

Work = all-encompassing. Hectic. Treading water.

Amanda = : (

unplugged

I was going to write a really interesting, comical, scintillating blog post about my fascinating life* - but then I realized that I haven't really heard from you. Or you. You either. You've been better than the rest of us, so you get a free pass from this shout out.

So while you are composing blog-worthy updates on your lives, I'm taking a break from the computer this weekend. I think I'm getting a case of ADD, because I'm constantly multi-tasking in the evenings and often that means the computer is in my lap, a book or magazine is to my side, and the TV is on. I'm finding that while trying to focus on everything, I'm focusing on nothing. So the computer will stay off.**

Talk to you Monday!

*Not really.
**Except to check work email. Because I have to worry about something going on on Sunday. Well I don't have to worry, but I will.

awesomeness

Way back in ye olden 1990s, I was a huge ginormous fan of alt-rock-whatever music. I went to zillions of concerts, spent most of my money on CDs, and nearly died and went to heaven when Radio 104 hit the airwaves. And my most favorite of all of the bands of the day was Letters to Cleo.

So imagine my joy - JOY - when I happened upon this website.

My girl crush of the 90s has herself a fancy new website, with a blog even! Blissful happiness over here, people.

525,600 people all lovin' our show

So as previously reported, my number one favorite musical of all time, RENT, is closing on Broadway. It was set to close on June 1, so I went and bought tix for the matinee performance, which would be the 19th time I've seen the show.

And then.

They changed the closing date to September 7! I knew something like this was going to happen. But what to do? I can exchange my tix for a show during closing week in September, but I believe I'm supposed to be in Cape Cod for the bulk of that week, so I will probably just end up going on the now anti-climactic date of June 1. As much as I heart this show, and as much as I'm happy they are squeezing three more months out of it, I admit to being annoyed as well.

BUT THEN.

The most excellent of theater news arrived today, via an email from Alan. I was just about to pop over to playbill.com like the huge theater nerd that I am when I received an email from Alan telling me that my second favorite show of all time, [title of show], was going to Broadway in July! YEAH! I was seriously screaming, people. You'd think I was an investor. I saw the show off-Broadway in September 2006 (pop back to that month in my archives if you want to read about how awesome I thought it was then) right before it closed, begged every theater person I know to go see it in its last weeks, and nobody listened to me. I have now threatened everyone I know that if they don't go see it this time, I'm breaking up with them.

If you have free time, PLEASE visit the [tos] blog on their website. It's hilarious. And join me on April 21 in buying tickets for the show. Or at least tell 9 people (this would make sense if you SEE THE SHOW).

And, in conclusion, SEE [title of show] ASAP.

the hits. they keep coming.

So, Jane's got herself a case of Coxsackie virus. Funny name, not so funny virus - it's also known as the hand, foot and mouth virus, because one of the symptoms is blisters in the general area of the hands, foot, and inside the mouth. Jane has been miserable for a couple of days, but I attributed it to teething, because she's getting her first two teeth in. However, daycare called yesterday to let me know they think she has this virus, which is making its way through the daycare. It certainly made sense, since she's been throwing up and refusing the bottle and completely miserable, and I had noticed some spots on her stomach, which are now all over her legs and arms, and indeed inside her mouth, as confirmed by her doc yesterday. There isn't anything you can do for this - the doc suggested a cocktail of children's Tylenol, Mylanta and Benadryl to help soothe the throat and mouth - but after running around to three pharmacies, talking to two pharmacists and calling the doctor twice, it turns out they don't make children's Mylanta anymore. So we're giving her the other two things, just in case it helps. Poor little baby. I feel so bad! Although her spots are more numerous today, her mood seems fair (knock wood!). The doctor said she would be able to go back to daycare tomorrow, if she seems better. We shall see. In the meantime, you know how busy I am at work? Yeah, it's hard to get stuff done when you're stuck home. Ah well - priority one is that Jane is OK.