I Don't Have a Clue What My Dream Is

Do you geek out on Myers Briggs types Mary Beth?  I am an INFJ, which is just to say, that I am intuitive and introverted.  I have a hard time explaining myself but feel and judge things constantly and intensely.  It has given me great solace as an adult to understand why my motivations are different from other peoples.  INFJs make bad employees and tend to devalue money.  INFJs are creative and good at meeting their own needs.  INFJs need to trust their own instincts.  You should take the test here.  I wonder what type you are?

I have spent a lot of time not understanding my own motivations but trusting my gut.  Quite often I feel lost when I compare myself with other people.  Now I learn that INFJs are only one percent of the population.  Go figure.


So you asked me about my dreams?  Somehow the question makes me nervous and sweaty.  I feel like I have to explain myself.  I'm an INFJ.  Right?  To me this means that I will continue to try and order my dreams around strong ideals and intuition.  I will get lost and actually that's ok with me.  I will always be creative.  I will focus on process more than destination. It means I don't know.

I have tried being an art historian.  A baker.  An arts educator.  A Pilates instructor.  A seller of fine fabrics.  An artist.  A blogger.  A waitress.  A stagemom. 

sigh.

It always goes something like this.........

When I went to college I had no idea what I wanted to do.  Then I attended a lecture given by a beautiful woman in the dark.  She flashed sultry images like some sort of fever dream.  Fleshy Rubens nudes made me want to lick something.  All my muscles relaxed.  I decided a major in art history was the most sensual thing I could possibly do with my life.

But later, when I try to turn art history into a job, everything seems hopeless.  At The Art Institute of Chicago crabby women scuttle around frowning about grants and docents.  In graduate school professors make art theory sound like some sort of political diatribe.  Tension crackles through hunched shoulders.  Overly clever words beg for relief.  I am in the wrong place.  Change scene.

I have changed scene my fair share of times.  I think this seems lucky.

Mary Beth, I want to tell you all these stutter steps are totally fine with me and make perfect sense.  That would be my 1A.M. lie in the mirror.  What's the point?  Self doubt sinks in constantly.  I feel like I should pursue a practical thing like nursing and help take some pressure off Frank.  Currently my sweet workaholic husband is having a meltdown over his job.  He feels the corporate suck.  He would like a break.  Talk about drawing a bad hand.  I was hoping if Frank liked his work I could fly under the radar.  No such luck.

I often believe I am a huge fraud at 1A.M.  Really.  And selfish.

I like to write and I want to tell you that my dream is to be a writer.  I have no clue.  It sounds weird to say it.  But I do write.  I also draw.  Does this mean I should be an illustrator?  It just doesn't follow in my brain.  I recently had a friend who was making a line of herbal essences with animal themes.  She needed images for all the little bottles.  I drew her the animals.  She loved them and couldn't believe I could draw like that.  I laughed because I can't believe it's anything special.  People can't draw animals?  Why?  It's really just that my skills don't seem to equal cash money.  

Money is an issue for me currently.  I feel guilty about not earning any.  It helps that we don't have a mortgage anymore.  I am slowly getting rid of things.  I want to live more and more monastic.  I have realized that in order to not value money you have to live cheap.  This is not easy in California.  In California children are luxury items because rent goes up by a grand with each extra bedroom.  Why can't we all just sleep together I wonder?  The older children cringe.

I haven't been spending hardly any money lately.

My favorite place in Los Angeles is called Clementines.  I go there every Saturday and buy myself a special pastry and tea.  I try not to blanch at the $10 price tag.  Last week I was in line behind a beautiful California style family with two kids and they were ordering food for the entire weekend for pickup.  They were using Clementines like a grocery store.  They left with almost $400 dollars worth of seasonal soups and breads and little delights for their weekend.  Done.  I wanted to tear my eyes out -- not because I thought they were silly, but because I wanted to be them and I hated myself for it.  When I sat down I made myself pause and feel super grateful for my ten dollar afternoon tea.  It really was enough.

My dream is to transcend. To find beauty and magic in all the little things.  To stop asking myself such hard questions about what I'm going to be when I grow up as if I'm ever going to come up with the answer to that riddle.


I just want to live effortlessly, you know?  This may sound like Zen spiritual mumbo jumbo, but I can't really put it any other way.  My dream is not a destination but a style of living.  I want to keep things simple and graceful.  Everything I have ever pursued has been about grace and a real aversion to struggle.  I can't compare myself with the Beverly Hills types, but I certainly admire their taste.  I hope taste isn't just about money.  I don't think it is.

On the subject of education, we all need to bring more grace to the table, right?  We are all losing it.  Fear reigns supreme.  The expectations we place on our kids are crazy unreal.  There are Mandarin lessons being taught after school all over the place.  Private tutors galore.  Are there high school classes that aren't advanced placement?  I know of two month SAT prep classes over the summer.  Two months.  These kids are getting perfect scores on the SAT after taking these classes.  So then what is the value of the test?  Do all college bound kids need to take these courses just to keep up?   Kids need to read before entering kindergarten.  Really?  Shit.  I better get Charlie to work.   There is this huge inflation bubble hanging over higher education that could burst at any moment.  I used to be the person thinking that we were not doing enough.  I know.  I have changed my mind.  Now I just think kids need to find themselves outside of school.  And forget about concepts like permanence and financial aid.  I don't even think that home school is necessarily the answer for everyone (especially not for extroverts), but I think that having time and fluid expectations will ease the pain.

And kids should not look stressed out. We need our kids to look beautiful and lithe, otherwise who will?  I am so happy to hear that Peter is six feet tall.  Amazing.

I just want my kids to have time to figure out what's interesting to them.  Time to figure out self worth and style beyond grades and transcripts.  I am not signing them up for enrichment classes or telling them what classes to take.   Jimmy is going back to public school next year.  If we move to LA they will all be in the craziest public school system in the country --- LAUSD.  gasp.  This should be some awesome new material for our blog at the very least.  The bottom line is I'm not a tiger mom.  I just can't fake it.

I also want to respect my kids if they don't have dreams or ambitions that are traditionally predictable.  The Myers Briggs test can also be taken by children (after a certain age of course).  If you have a kid like me, there's no education formula obviously. Remember in college I just wanted to lick things and look at sexy Rubens nudes.  Do I want to pay for that fun if one of my kids is an INFJ?  I think in the future any INFJ child-o-mine will be encouraged to follow their intuition outside of the bounds of traditional education.

More later.  Miss you.
Abby



 

Mirror Under Florescent Lights at 1 a.m. (MB)

Hey again, Abigale.  Just letting you know that ever since I read your last post, and wrote my response, I've realized I've been harping on the "work and toil and figure out the main game" theme way too hard with myself and my kids.  I think my last post tries to emphasize the importance of the balance between instilling and honoring basic work values and the ability to play by the rules to ensure survival, versus encouraging and inspiring the outlandish dreams that might be seeds of greatness.  But in reality, I've been way more concerned about me and my kids playing by the rules, and -- true confession -- I have become quite the nagging mother about it all.  I guess even after reflection these last days, I stand by my pleas for balance between the two approaches -- get your bearings on the main game and hard work while never abandoning crazy dreams.  But I've started a new mantra at home, and as I speak it, I realize how unfamiliar it feels: "What's your dream?"  My little family has been missing that, at least as a legitimate way to talk about things, for a little while now, what with the onset of high school and those damn permanent transcripts (Peter), the start of middle school and real deadlines and grades (Madeline), and the 7-year-itch in the work force since law school graduation (Me -- trying like hell to play by the rules since 2005).  Not to mention the constant pounding of the radio news and TV news telling us about how much harder it is to make it these days, talking about kids living at home til they are thirty (30) years old, talking about this and future generations not being able to own their own house, talking about college being so hard and expensive to get into . . . .but perhaps this context, this horrible economy, actually makes your case.  If we're facing such poor odds on such hard work, why not roll the dice on the dream?  Thanks for the reminder, my mirror under florescent lights at 1 a.m.  We mustn't forget the possibility of those rare and special dreams and the rare and special ways we may just pull off a good con.  Lord knows playing by the rules isn't a cakewalk either way. 

What's your dream, baby?

Mother's Day from Wisconsin (and, the long haul) (MB)

Aw baby! Why did I abandon this blog for over two (2) months? You just made my adrenaline level go up a little higher than it's been for probably the whole time since I last checked in, Ab. You're a hell of a writer, and I realize why life has been just a bit drabber since you left for the Coast. You are a mirror under florescent lights at 1 a.m. for me -- and I mean that in the best possible way. You always provide a solid challenge to my comfortable assumptions, and that's why I love you. Due to the sheer delay on my part in getting back to you, this post is going to have a little bit of housekeeping before I get at the very important themes of your last post.

 First, obviously no April Spring Break trip to see you ever did happen. We took a more standard route to visit friends and family on the east coast. You might say it was a safe choice, and pleasant. Would have been great to get there with y'all but thing is, your kids and my kids were not off school same time, so it seemed like it might not work, and the logistics and money were making me a bit trigger-shy. We got a great option to go east and it was easy to take. It was a good get-away. Maybe that's another post.

Second, our birthdays are coming. And, through the minimal email that has occurred between us I have surmised that you guys may be back in Sconnie for it. (Dear readers, if you are out there, Abigale and I do in fact commit to focus our communication solely on this blog, thus keeping its true lady-friend letter-writing tradition-based authenticity in tact, but occasionally a simple blast from Ab to Henry's fan club back home or a quick exchange regarding potential travel plans does happen via email). Regarding our upcoming birth date, potentially in Wisconsin, do I feel another DJ Frank dance party coming on? I will never forget the one a few years ago when many of my relatives, including my parents, and many of our East Side friends came on down to the Mercury for a true throw-down including full blown chanting in unison to "Don't You Want Me Baby" that old call-and-response 80s tune (classic).

 Third, you have had quite the whirlwind of call-backs and potentially life-changing developments in Henry's young acting career since you last wrote. I am not actually sure if good "luck", as you would term it, has won the day. You'll have to fill me in.

Fourth, it's Mother's Day, and that should not go un-acknowledged. How was yours? You certainly deserve to be showered with love and affection today. As your last post most eloquently details, you have put your boys' education (I think I mean that in the Spanish sense, educacion, "raising") first and in fact made it your passionate life pursuit. As for my Mother's Day, it's been good and it seems like everyone else's has too. When I say everyone, I mean the ladies I most wish a happy Mother's Day for -- my mom, grandma, sisters, and friends. But, I also mean "everyone". I have recently made the mistake of starting to read Facebook on my phone (I previously set up an account in the early days, accepted several hundred friend requests, then promptly abandoned the email linked to it and ignored it for six-month intervals; now, I can read the news feed at any damn time of the day). According to Facebook, it seems just about everyone is having an amazing Mother's Day, complete with documentation of every breakfast in bed and gift given and many overtures about the greatness of individual and all moms ever to live. Mine, as I mentioned, was quite pleasant, especially when considered historically. I could tell you some stories about the trials and tribulations of Mother's Day as a single mom. There have been some pretty solid ones (for example, when I had law firm tickets to the luxury box at Miller Park) and some pretty shaky ones, of which an entire memoir could be written, that could basically represent the dysfunction of a tight-knit single parent family. These shaky Mother's Days generally include me planning something that I want to do with the kids, and then spending the whole day fighting with them about how they should be trying to be nice and enjoy it and do what I want to do because it's Mother's Day. This has included brunches in cute Mother's Day spots, day-trips for a hike, and even a ferry ride to Uruguay from Buenos Aires when we were living in Argentina. In all of these "shaky" cases the worst part is that inevitably there are families nearby who are going through the motions of a pretty pleasant Mother's Day experience, and whose presence reminds me how pathetic our Bridget Jones version of the holiday is. Now that Facebook exists on my phone, that contrast was slightly present today despite the fact that we -- purposely -- spent most of today around the house ("my hubby surprised me with. . . /I am chillin by the pool in a tropical destination on Mother's Day!/my cutest ever kids are cuddled up in my king-sized bed with me with a well-planned gift"). All in all this one was right in the middle, and I feel pretty pleased about it. Started the day with nine 12-year-old girls in the house for Madeline's birthday sleepover, and by 11 a.m. we were mostly cleared out, no worse for the wear, house NOT trashed (!). Managed to get both kids involved in mowing and yard stuff and getting the garden ready on a most beautiful May day. I had a few moments of listening to my own music and also reading the hilarious book I am on right now, The Dud Avocado (have you read it?). I did have some Bridget Jones moments including several outbursts by me similar to the most recent one "I am going to sing Aretha Franklin if I want to today because it's Mother's Day and I don't CARE if you think I am annoying!" You get the point. Pretty solid. I hope you got to do something fun or for yourself.

Okay, now on to the real post -- the response to yours, that is. I get what you mean about the long-con, and all the opportunity that you have in your California existence to educate your boys on the glimmery, shimmery, luck-drives it, path-less-traveled, risk-taking, charm-your-way-through side of life. And I support you using California time for that. For sure. You ask if any of your comments about it resonate with me. In short, absolutely. Maybe too much. I was raised by a dad who frequently captured his philosophy on life with one phrase: "I'd rather be lucky than good." (The context usually gave the comment the additional meaning of "and I am -- lucky.")

And, as you know, I trust (or I think we would not still be friends after all these years) I have a pretty insatiable appetite for all that the world has to offer. And we all know that the interesting stories from life, and life's biggest stars, seem to play by a different set of rules than what the conventional wisdom would tell us is safe and right. And I've definitely rolled the dice on taking the riskier path. I did it when I was 18 and ran off to California for my first year of college, I did it when I went hitchhiking across the country with my first post-high school boyfriend, and I did it when I followed through with starting a family with that boyfriend at an age when most of my contemporaries were simply moving in their first college apartment. Then, I did it again after getting divorced when I went to law school and started taking my kids on international adventures while working on research projects. I think a certain sense of trying to defy the odds (what the hell?) drove that.

But, I must say, the last six or seven years have been a true lesson in the other side of life. I've been here, in Wisconsin, and I've been somewhat run out of special tricks like the ones I was able to come up with as a younger person and as a student. I've got to pay the bills and raise the kids. I haven't found a way to ease up on those responsibilities or the work required to get it done. I still dream that a break will come, but truth is once you get busy with the work and family schedule it's hard to find time or energy for the dreamier things that might bring something my way. So, with full knowledge that it may be a phase and it may be an overly hardened perspective and I may even be in denial about how I could really be living better, but -- I would say my orientation these days is a bit more toward the hard work and gaining some basic skills that people are willing to pay you for, no matter if you can charm your way through or not. I have found that being able and willing to work hard and having some marketable skill is what will save you from utter failure when the tricks up your sleeve run out or are on "pause".

What's more, I do think the working Wisconsin values have set in -- gracefully, not harshly -- in my world view since I have settled into just being a Wisconsin mom here. I look around and truly admire the hell out of the people who I observe that have done their honest day's work and paid their dues, so to speak. And I see a lot of beauty and satisfaction in that, not just fulfillment of a cultural obligation.

Now as for Peter and Madeline, first -- they are great. And as you know, Peter could charm a damn snake out of a tree and still has his gorgeous face but now on a 6-foot-tall lean tall frame. Madeline is so exceedingly competent and on top of everything and now sassy-cute and stylish in her tween-ness that I think people just sort of get out of her way and accept her. So yeah, they've got some things working in their favor to follow in a certain family tradition of pushing the limits and taking some risks that could pay off. But I find myself emphasizing the work and sensibility, while emphasizing that of course they can do whatever they want to in life, and anything is possible! 

I guess it's that persistence thing you're talking about. I also translate that principle to willingness-to-do-what-it-takes. My thing is if you've got something that's your con-job, the thing that makes you most glowingly happy and is your dream to shoot for -- then yeah, let's go. But, you've got to be willing to take the steps it takes to get there, and you can't abandon the basic underlying facts (hard ground) that lie beneath every such shot at a dream (tight rope walk). Better have some humble skills and the ability to do the grind if and when the time comes.

My current example is Peter. He's golfing, and golfing pretty well, and as you know, the kid was always going to play a sport and this is the one that he's narrowed down to and is probably going to excel in the most. So, this pro in town tells him he may have what it takes to play in college, etc, but he actually has to get the grades and have good character and not make any boneheaded mistakes in high school, or he'll significantly sabotage his chances of getting a scholarship or playing in college. This is an "aha" moment for me because it perfectly captures (coincidentally) the thought process I have about it. Will I support the dream, and just today, did Peter and I watch a tall lanky guy built much like himself win the Players Tournament, and did I see the guy high-fiving his mom after he won and feel a few happy tears running down my face? Hell yeah. And when this golf pro tells me we need to get Peter new clubs that I can't afford do I do it anyway? Yes. But when Peter plays the "Mom, won't you support my dream?" card when he's lobbying for a membership to a course or some such access to MORE golf that I am supposed to pay for, I'm like: 1. Do your part dude, and show me the grades; and 2. You're still gonna need to get a job and pitch in because I'll be damned if you're not gonna know how to scrape a grill or carry some elder golfer's clubs around because in that great pursuit of a dream you gotta know how to work FOR it, and you gotta know how to work well in CASE you need back up.

And unfortunately with that little snake-charmer Peter with those big brown eyes and savvy smile and good humor I have to hit these points over and over again because he will con me, and he will con the world -- to a point. He takes after his mom, and I seem to have run my con for the short term (carried myself from age 18 to age about 28 on the whimsy), but then the pause button hit and ever since, I have really needed those skills and work and to be honest I kind of had to learn it all over again, you know? But I am better for it. 

And there is for sure some hard work and hard face lines and grubby hands running through our Wisconsin tradition here. But there's a lot of love and pleasure, and of course, in the midst of all that tradition, there's certainly the shot at a dream. Always. I just think my view, and the Wisconsin view, may be that it's a pretty long haul, and there's definitely some hard work in there somewhere. Hardly anybody gets around it if they are to really live well. I think the fact that your boys had once lived here makes it easier for "LA Education" to be a thing, and not a life front-to-back, and that's all the more reason to go after it while you can. Not that you're coming back, but you can always send them back to me for a summer if we need to straighten one of them out.

Other cool thing about Wisconsin -- that hard work, basic skill thing? It's become stylish, you know? All the local food and cheese and beer and artisanship and all the handcrafted everything. So en vogue, and so HERE (holy Farmer's market and local organic regional cuisine restaurants -- we are saturated!) -- and so NOT possible through a con. There is something so damn admirable and virtuous about that.

I may have been raised in Wisconsin, and one would think I would have started out with those persistent, skilled, hard-working values, but I think I came of age in a somewhat quirky family and knowing I could work a good con, and so avidly seeking that kind of spice in my life. At the moment, though, I am thinking a lot about good honest work and warning my kids a whole lot about the need to be thorough, work well, do their best, and play the main game well. But you have astutely reminded me that I should be telling them that while they should master that main game well (chess), they should do because it might well serve their dream (poker, L.A.-style, the long-con).  And, it can offer a solid life true to the virtue of their Wisconsin tradition, in the event they are not a poker player, or in the event they ever need to recover from a bad hand.

Remind me to dream again, and encourage my kids to do so, just in case this grind has me a little bogged down. I'll make sure if you go too far with the long-con we pull you back here for some meat, cheese, beer, and diggin in the garden.

Should I be worried that Charlie has already quit a hippie preschool? Did he flip off the macrobiotic lunch lady? xooxoxoxoxoxo

LA Education (the long con)

I like poker players. Hustlers. Artists. Actors. Entrepreneurs. Professional athletes. Authors. Musicians. Anyone who does freelance anything (so I am all about your hangin' a shingle approach). Comedians. Absolutely. Love those guys. Con artists all. Drug dealers and criminals you ask? You would need to see the look on my face to know how difficult and interesting I find that question. for another post...

I don't take any sort of pride or interest in the subject of work. I never have. All my heroes and mentors have found some way to avoid it, and so it goes. I often sit mute in groups when conversation turns to work life, because I have nothing to add, and feel bored out of my skull. (The subject makes me want to drink and stand over a breezy grate in sexy underpants.) One of the things I was fleeing when I left the midwest -- a sense that good old fashioned hard work was so highly prized that my kids might get the wrong idea. I wanted to show my children some California fools gold.

Of course, I don't support myself and would have a seriously hard time of it if I tried. I like money, don't get me wrong, so my position is often contradictory and dishonest. Frank and I try to limit our debt so that anything seems possible, but Frank working a corporate soul sucking job for the past fifteen years is really what has afforded me the luxury of my views.

I have never had the drive, ambition or talent for any of the lofty long-con careers I so esteem. Not really. In my 20s the artist life appealed to me certainly, but lack of fortitude and vision caused me to stumble and doubt. I also got pregnant at 24, not that I don't love the stories of single moms who struggle through and make a go of it. fuck yeah J. K Rowling. work it M.B. Collins. Love those -- but that's not my story. Today I'm sure that many screenplays and novels rest unharvested in my soul, and yet the ability to sit down and write everyday in earnest just isn't appealing enough. I'm not hungry for it. I'd rather help my kid Henry with an education about the long con.

So the thing with Henry is not about work. It's about Henry learning how charm, beauty, hustle and talent can be used to make money. And it's fun. LA professional acting is not a game that can be won with pure strategy. (It's not chess, a game I find as tedious as work.) This is poker. You need some skills but the whole LA thing relies heavily on bluffing and luck. But the payoff is big and most importantly, you get used to losing a lot and trying again. I feel so happy to teach this to my kid. Not the acting dream. I don't care about that. I am so glad to share the con game with him. LA is an opportunity to learn about systems that reward without reason.

I believe life rewards without reason and you have to be charming and flexible to play. Most people get really confused and angry and trudge through life like big boobs, believing that reason will save them and then getting pissed when it doesn't.

I'm trying to teach my kids not to be boobs. And I'm not just talking about semantics. When Henry gets a commercial job I say, "you won the lottery". We celebrate luck. Every time we drive to an audition I believe we are playing the lottery. I don't take any sort of pride in that. I don't want Henry to confuse ego and luck. We are playing a game. We are risk takers. We have perseverance, but everyone needs that to win at anything. Perseverance is a given. I find great satisfaction in this idea -- I have turned the LA adventure into a perfect educational tool.

Of course I also think Henry has talent and has worked hard over the years, but so has everyone in LA. Talent becomes another given.

I think we have it all wrong, the way we educate our kids. Our national message to teenagers is to stay in school, obey the rules, get good grades and go to college. The best they can hope for is to ace their exams and get scholarships. And then gasp. They get into a good college. Hooray. And then they protest vigorously because their degrees are meaningless and they are in debt. But I digress. The main point is that the traditional approach is boring and doesn't reward risk taking or creativity. Also the game is too easy. Also the game rewards only a very small slice of potential talents. Also the game says nothing about realistic potential and the end game. I could go on and on here........ Does any of this ring true to you MB? I wonder how you view the system for Peter and Maddie. How do you talk to them about school stuff? What are your expectations for them in regards to grades and future goals?

I know Peter and Maddie possess more charm in their little pinkies than most children...that was always very apparent. Miss those two. sigh.

Anyway, I have found a way to avoid an educational system I don't respect with Henry. I will try to scheme similar paths with my other two kids as they grow older. Of course, I will need different strategies because they are motivated by different factors. I try to pay attention. What makes Jimmy's eyes gleam and sparkle? Where does Charlie want to take risks? What do they do every day for pleasure that could be turned to profit? On what do they obsess?

So yes, currently both Jimmy and Henry are in school. Henry is going to a public high school with 5,000 kids and he is doing the bare minimum. He has two gym classes! Jimmy is going to a private big brain school because I think public middle school is pretty toxic and I wanted him to make friends with nerdy children. Jimmy still seems to want close friendships outside of the family and he has had more success making friends than any of the rest of us. There is part of me that really wants to unschool, but the reality is both Henry and Jimmy wanted to get out and meet people and look around a bit. Makes sense to me.

Charlie just quit a hippie preschool. another post on this for sure..........

I know we could figure out some sort of awesome adventure in April if you are still in. Call me sometime for talk of details.

Best. Best. Best.
Abby

Work Life (MB)

I loved loved loved hearing about your current work life, dear. Because that is what you are doing when you are getting butt cramps driving back and forth to L.A. and cleaning up vomit and being stage mom -- well, just being a mom, for that matter, because the thing is no mom doing their job can rightfully turn away from the labor of nurturing a kid's God-given talent and willingness to put it to good use. And, I just want to say for the record that you are very, very good at your job.

When I saw the VW commercial starring Henry, my first comments to family and friends were "Holy Shit! They've only been out there, like, 8 months!" and "Abby obviously knows what she's doing." Now, that's not to take away from Henry's obvious God-given talent. I've been a groupie for years, and I'm a believer. But you only need to go to L.A. once to discover that there is an entire world of wishful could-be stars who just DON'T get their break for whatever reason. And I gotta believe that as learning curves and access issues go, a mom and son driving into Southern California from Wisconsin are extremely disadvantaged as compared to the Real Orange County housewife types who have lived around this stuff their entire life and who know some people and who have way more cash means to just get access and have had their kids involved in the right stuff since Day 1.

So, I am incredibly impressed that Henry already has had the awesome Jetta commercial -- which they are playing all the freakin' time -- and he looks so good and grown up and cute and he does just so perfectly well in that damn thing. And, I've received your simple email letting me know that Henry GOT the Verizon commercial which was one of the two call-backs you were painstakingly driving to L.A. for . . . . my distanced assessment is that you are achieving great success in your current endeavor. And I know, just know that you used your shrewd ability to figure out how to get something done right to accomplish this success. Congrats!

I just met yesterday for casual drinks with a client/friend who is also a young Executive Director (although the organization she runs is much, much bigger and has more infrastructure than the one that I direct). We decided, based on the recommendation from a super-ambitious law school friend of mine who now lives in Portland, to start a small group of gals who are finding their way in professional leadership roles, who can get together once in a while to hash out questions, issues, etc. For example, one question I always run into -- in a small organization with a staff of four, including me, how the hell is one supposed to do performance reviews? And is it even necessary? I mean, we're all on top of each other all the time, and in constant contact. So, my default position on this is: if there's a problem, we're going to talk about it, and the need to step back and do a cold calculating analysis of "performance" seems like a tactic to unnecessarily emphasize hierarchy or something. I recognize the need for people to be able to step back and think about how they do their jobs, and what they can focus on for the next year or whatever. So, just an example of reasons why it would be good to have a sounding board of other ladies who are not related to my job, who I can specifically get together with to safely hash out dynamics and tactics and ways to get from point A to point B in one's work life.

Reflecting on all the challenges I can infer that you must be facing in yoru current work life, I imagine you could use something like this too. I imagine that all the classic issues that face any professional are there for you: power dynamics (which agent has which connections, who has an advantage based on personal relationships), management issues (what if Henry really needs to do something to be successful but he's just not into it?), time management and need for support and infrastructure issues (I know you could use a secretary or driver right about now, but you're not there yet with the income, right?), etc. Anyway, work life is tough, and it seems we could all live and work 100 years and still be learning and mastering all the while.

I realized that a lot of my prior entries have been about really personal emotional family type stuff. But my outside-the-home work is a big part of my life these days too, of course. And things are going pretty well. But it took a long time for things to feel "normal" in my new work life. It's been about two and a half years since I switched from being an overpaid and undercommitted associate in a large law firm to becoming a "part time" Executive Director of a tiny non-profit agency, and, simultaneously, opening my own small independent law practice. At first when I made this switch, there was not a financial impact because I had a little cushion, but there was a pretty big sense that I was creating EVERYTHING from scratch in the non-profit and in the law firm. So, every communications piece I wrote for the non-profit, every Board of Directors meeting, every court hearing, every client bill, was like a new project -- no template, having to question every impulse or instinct I had and having to figure out if I really understood the power dynamics, process, authorities at hand, etc. It was more tiring than I realized, I think. And juggling both things was a bit of a challenge -- I needed the money from my client work but my Executive Director job never really "turned off." If there was an issue in the non-profit, I had to handle it, you know? And the fundraising -- oh, the fundraising. It's a small organization but let's just say I've done enough special events planning, and grant reporting, and grant writing, than I needed in my entire lifetime.

Over the last two years, things have gotten much, much more efficient. I've just done everything at the non-profit at least once before, you know? So it's not so cumbersome. The law practice just ticks along -- it's true what they say. Once you hang a shingle and get yourself out there a bit, the work comes. It's very liberating having these two positions in which I am the boss, I can figure out how I want to get things done, and I have a lot of flexibility to figure out how to raise my kids in the background of all this. I am absolutely thrilled that I never feel like I have to sneak out the back door of the law firm to go see my kid get an award at school again. I've also grown that little organization to a point where soon, I will not bear the burden of all of the work that bogs me down. I'm hiring contractors to help and will be hiring more employees before long. The drudgery that really ate up a lot of time -- filling out forms, making copies, composing letters to donors -- is becoming more and more delegable. We have templates, and we have raised enough money to hire some of that stuff out. Thank goodness! In the meantime, my only complaint about my work life of late has really just been that the money is tight. Working the way you want to comes at a price, of course -- there's a reason why people put up with the misery of working at a big law firm, and it's a six-figure reason. But I'm even rounding the bend on that issue, I think. It's just been an adjustment.

This weekend I am feeling particularly good about work -- perhaps before long I'll be writing in a more cynical state -- but, Friday we had an awesome fancy cocktail affair for the non-profit. It was WAY more grown up than any event we've ever had, and I ended up finding an 85% off Calvin Klein slinky but appropriate fire engine red dress to wear to it, a ton of interesting people with means showed up and partied down, and we were surrounded by ice sculputres and 20-foot tall flower arrangements. Hey -- that's some pretty fun stuff. Add to that amazing specialty cocktails, my time on the mic talking about the organization going fairly well, and some serious action on the dance floor to MJ and Salt and Pepa classics, and ample comments about how good that 85% off dress looked, and it was a pretty overall kick-ass night. Above all, it is so, so good to see our little-engine-that-could non-profit, which I inherited as a little-known organization that had just broken the six-figure budget benchmark, in this new state of legitimacy. We are basically rocking it.

On a funnier note, I have a good story that actually throws back to my law firm days but I've never really told anybody about it and I thought you would appreciate it. So, wearing my lawyer hat recently, I was helping a client deal with some intellectual property issues. I was able to usher them through some initial analysis of the issues and clarify objectives, but it was clear we needed to consult an intellectual property attorney from a larger firm to check our strategy and provide expertise on the specifics. So my client goes to this attorney we work with on these issues at the firm I actually used to work at. That's not a coincidence -- the whole way this client is my client is that I worked with them when I was at the firm, and for general counsel matters they came with me when I went to my own practice. But there are still specialized issues that they'll go back to the firm for -- retirement benefits, intellectual property, etc.

So we schedule this meeting with this partner from the firm, and it was pretty fun to go in there and consult with him as equals and run our strategy by him and basically get feedback that we were right on; kind of validating, you know, because when we were both under the same roof at the firm I was just this peon and now here we are working out a strategy as lawyers together.

But the point is the whole thing brought back this funny memory from when I was at the firm. It's hard to explain but there was this pressure to attend social stuff related to the firm, even when it didn't make sense in my schedule, wasn't the way I wanted to spend my social time, etc. It's a pretty universal theme of the lawyer world, at least in Madison. You sort of feel like you have to participate in the whole bit, inclduing these social obligations, to do well. And for me -- single mom with kids at home and generally super cynical about these sort of business politics games -- it's funny to think I even played along as much as I did.

But one happy hour after work in the summertime back then I went, and there was a mix of partners and associates, and this lawyer that I had to meet with recently was there. We all got just a bit loosened up and when it came time to head home from the drinking establishment, I walked out ahead of him and another partner and just as I was about to turn the the corner at the end of the block, I stepped on a street vent (the purpose of which to this day I am still unsure of). Before I know it my cotton H&M dress with cute 1960s stylings (tight boddess and full skirt -- very appropriate for work with a cardigan) flies up around my torso. Yes, the vent fully blew my skirt up, exposing all that was underneath to the law firm parnters behind me.

So, in that moment -- what can you do? Absolutely nothing. I hopped off the vent, batted down the skirt and impulsively whipped my head back to see if the gentlemen behind me had seen. Oh yes, yes they had. We all struck a balance between a healthy laugh and trying not to play it up too much. There were drinks involved so I'm not certain at this point if anyone said anything or what but let's just say it was acknowledged. Then, I had to continue walking down the street with them behind me, and the incident behind me, and all I could think about was "what the hell underwear am I wearing? what the hell underwear am I wearing?" I guess I just wanted to know the reality of what they saw. I think I figured it out before having to physically check, and -- it was my most expensive flame-red fancy pair from Victoria's Secret, of a styling that did not leave much up for question in terms of what my actual rear end looked like under that skirt. I couldn't tell (and am still not sure) what would have been worse -- that I be wearing something like that, which might make it seem like I was TRYING to be sexy, or if I had been wearing some tattered old thing that would have been clearly NOT sexy but still embarassing for other reasons, you know? Anyway.

The happy hour was on a Friday and on Monday I was in the office early and the first call I get on my phone is from that partner's office extension. I decide to just head off the awkwardness and picked up the phone saying "I hope you're not calling me to give me a hard time about the little incident on Friday, because I can tell you I am embarrassed enough about that."

And, it turns out he is calling for a completely different, legitimate work related reason, but after having explained that says, "but you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about" in this very pointed, slow way, to which I had absolutely no response. One of those moments when you're like, do I acknowledge that this may be a really inappropriate comment? I think he meant well, and wasn't creepy, and was trying to be nice, but -- it seems slightly suggestive, yes?

Anyway, I'm glad those butt-flashing law firm days are over and my sleeves are rolled up on my own work, in my own way, and I can see slow but real progress with what I'm trying to do.

I think you and Henry are seeing some serious progress with your work already and even if it's hard to see why you're driving carsick kids back and forth so much and why Henry has to dwell in commercial land for so long before a feature, from the outside it looks like you are seriously executing on a plan. Things just seem to take longer than one hopes.

So glad Hen and Peter are in touch. I wonder what Jimmy is up to? Is Charlie still an artist? How is Frank doing with HIS new work life, speak of the devil?

Anyway, I hope we get to catch up on these things soon in person. Still trying to figure out spring break. Our kids' weeks off of school don't match. Mine are off the week before yours. So. And, by the way, does this mean your kids are in school? Fill me in!

love love love

MBC

Different Worlds

I had to laugh out loud when I read that you had a good Valentines Day. My Valentines Day was whacked out.

First of all, the stage mom thing is currently all consuming. We found out on Valentines Day that after two callbacks Henry does not look good eating chicken. Bojangles decided to go with another kid actor for their national campaign to eat more fried chicken. I actually never thought Henry should be submitted for chicken eating because he has braces and who wants to see that shit (?), but all said we had to drive to LA three times just to get turned down on Valentines Day.

__________________________

At some point on Valentines Day Charlie hears me say it is Valentines Day and he asks if it really is Valentines Day in a disbelieving little voice. "What are we going to do for it?"' he muses.

"Nothing," I reply, "we're driving to LA."

"I hate driving to LA," he screams. I shove him in the car with the mobile dvd player. Problem solved.

After three hours of hard, aggressive driving (me whirling dervish style between lanes trying to make the call time) we get there with minutes to spare. I drop Henry at the door and try to find parking, carefully avoiding the block where several dozen junkies congregate. Charlie gets in the front seat and looks green. And then yes, he does. He throws up all over the front seat and dashboard. Happy Valentines Day. Carsick kid. Three hour drive home in a vomit car.

When I get home Frank is already asleep. I carry Charlie in from the car sleeping and sticky.

I shove five chocolates in my mouth and forget to brush my teeth.

______________________

We drove up to LA several more times this week and after the fifth day my ass had such a cramp I had to get off the 405 during rush hour and cry. This morning I thought it was all for nothing but then (hooray) at about 4 this afternoon Henry got two callbacks for commercials -- one for Verizon (because he can act like he can text) and one for Cedar Point Amusement Park (because he looks good screaming?). sigh. Next week looks like another butt cramp. If you are wondering wtf with all the commercials, the kids gotta cook a half dozen before theatrical casting will even look at him, or so we're told. That's a lot of fried chicken.

I don't bake or hardly cook anymore. I eat smoothies on the go. I forget holidays and drive like a maniac.

For what?

A dream.

I want my kid to see that if he wants something dreamy he has to work like hell.

And it can get messy and complicated and you only quit if you don't care anymore.

Henry still cares so we are full on in it right now. In the shit. It actually feels pretty damn good. I hope we're not crazy. I really do. My butt says yes but my heart says no. Intuition? Or more likely I just have a soft spot for people with big dreams.

I wonder why I have never been able to work this hard for myself? I have never had such clear headed ambition for anything in my life that concerns my own creative spirit. This blog project for example. mea culpa.

I would love it if you could visit. love love love.

Henry also really misses Peter. They text a lot. We did something good for those two I think. They have a familial bond that we helped set up. nice.

I haven't met anyone in San Diego who can do a Valentine Cookie Drop like you my dear. I miss your bakery love. You do your Grandma proud.

Best. Ab

A Good Valentine's Day -- and a Great VW Commercial (MB)

After writing my last posts I felt pretty guilty for blasting such melancholy all over the place. I was clearly misplacing my energy. I have improved my outlook significantly, and my Valentine's Day is a good snapshot of all that is good and how easy it is to see that with things in the proper perspective.

The truth is, I was in Kinko's for almost two hours yesterday evening, yes, Valentine's Day. This sounds like a disaster, but in actuality, it was part of a good Valentine's Day.

The evening before the big V-Day I baked some beautiful cut-out cookies for the kids and some friends. I don't know if you remember this but I do believe a bag of Valentine cut-out cookies was one of my first excuses for randomly coming to your door after having met you a few times when I was new to the Jenifer Street neighborhood and putting myself out there.

I decorated paper bags for the kids, taped some old valentines from the basement on, and filled them with chocolate and I-Tunes cards, put them sitting out for when they woke up.

In the morning I had a quick run with my running buddy and got the kids to school. Madeline was up without prompting and gussying up for the Valentine's Dance. Amazing how motivated a middle school girl can be to get out of bed when there's something to get ready for.

I took our small staff at the non-profit where I'm the director for a Valentine's coffee and got to find out what the other ladies' perspectives were on Valentine's day. The consensus -- good excuse to go for a decent meal. I ate a delicious huge Valentines mint brownie given to me by a co-worker for lunch at my desk. I got almost everything I wanted to get done at work done.

I got a positive update from some family members about my grandma, who was recently admitted to the hospital. Without getting into details, I'll say that she's doing much better, but in the midst of my baking on Monday night and my day on Tuesday, I said a lot of prayers that she would be okay, and I thought a lot about my sense of responsibility to follow through on what that woman (and others) gave to put me and these kids where we are. She was a teenage mom, had 7 kids with the love of her life (I think he was, anyway) and that dude disappeared from the family for a relationship with alcohol addiction by the time she was 30. She figured out a way to get a decent job despite limited education and worked her way through raising all those kids. She still figured out how to be a grandma, too -- inviting each of her 17 grandkids over for sleepovers, providing Christmas gifts for everybody, etc. Anyway, humbling to reflect on all she's done and how spoiled I and my kids are in perspective.

When I came home after work there was a nice card and gift card waiting for me -- again, without getting into detail let's say that it's not a very romantic Valentine's Day, and that's how it should be, but I still got a really nice gift from the guy, which I really appreciated.

I treated myself to a cooks' night off and let the kids get take-out for dinner before taxiing Madeline to her volleyball practice. She and I had a nice conversation on the way there AND back -- a real treat. I allowed Peter to stay home on his own during the practice which means he was psyched -- alone time. And I got over to Kinko's for some work stuff that just needed to get done.

When Mads and I got home, we got to watch "the Voice" with Peter -- all three of us, into it, together.

It was a great day, and I hope yours was too.

Today was a good day too, and I just settled myself in on the couch in the quiet house now that the kids are down. I flipped on the TV to watch the Daily Show and Colbert, and lo and behold -- I saw it! I had heard about your Henry in the VW commercial and I just randomly saw it now for the first time. It is a great commercial, Henry is so great and grown up and handsome, and -- wow! Will this be the reel they play when he is at the top of his fame and on the late night talk shows promoting a movie he stars in, and they ask about how he got started? I guess that new agent -- not to mention your commitment, and the kid's sheer talent -- are paying off!

So. . . . here's a question: what would you think about a visit from Peter, Mads, and myself over our spring break? I'll call you about that one. But you do need to respond to this blog post, honey.