When at 10am I told My Kid we were going to take the subway to the next thing on the schedule she burst into tears. I thought my plans for the day were shot. But, then she calmed down and we got something to eat, and she agreed to go with me to Clownlab at Theatrelab after I told her I would get her some packaged art activities at Closeout Connection. And then we went to Barnes and Noble. And then she got a Happy Meal from McDonalds. Finally, she had enough payment up front to go with me and be a good girl with her Barbie magic notebook and her new markers in the corner of the studio while I “worked” (I do it though I don’t believe I’m working and so I don’t always make accommodations for myself).

It had occurred to me to arrange a playdate for my kid, but I had also scheduled a dental appointment for her late in the afternoon and if she had a playdate in Brooklyn, I would have had to leave the studio an hour early in order to take the subway to go pick her up and take her back into Manhattan to see the dentist. It wasn’t a big motivation since it would have added so much more travel and stress to my day and cut my studio time by one third, and the only thing significantly affecting her quality of life would be her boredom quotient. And there is an approach to parenting that says maybe she should be a little bored this week so she can be excited to go back to school next week. Anyway, I bought her stuff, bought her off, paid her up front, as it were, for good behavior and silence. (good yes, silent not so much)

It’s good, for people who go into the studio to practice acting like a child, to see how an actual child plays in the studio (So what she did was run in circles like a rabid dog when “nobody was using the space” because all we were doing was talking–I said, “That was part of the workshop too,” and she tilted her head and looked at me genuinely puzzled. It sure didn’t look like we were doing anything.

I felt better after talking through my piece with those other people in the studio. I was reminded that in a situation like this, it’s about the process, not about the product.

So for the next two weeks, I will record here in my blog, my process because it’s not about the product. It’s about the process.

To that end, I spoke to Lorraine on the phone and was comforted to realize that we are on the same page, and if we aren’t we trust each other to do our part. Part–of the process…

I still have to schedule one play date for My Kid and I need to book a babysitter for the night of the performance or The Husband won’t be able to see it.

I put the opening events of the New York Clown Theatre Festival on my schedule, but if The Husband isn’t back from the business trip, I’ll have to pay a babysitter in order to attend the free promotional events on September 5. Unless there is a sleepover invite… the first Friday of the school year might be a little too early for that…hmmm

Planning ahead is time-consuming.

One day there was a call of the house, a motion which can be adopted by a deliberative assembly that has the authority to compel the attendance of its members in the absence of a quorum. The effect of the adoption of this motion is that the president of the assembly makes out arrest warrants which authorize the sergeant-at-arms to arrest any or all absent members and bring them to the meeting hall so that a quorum may be present. This motion is usually seen in houses of legislatures, such as the United States House of Representatives.

When the members realized that they were going to be forced to spend the night in the state house (because of the two absent members, one was undergoing a root canal and the other had flown to California to retrieve a wayward daughter) some of the Butte representatives sent out for liquor and broke out the cards.  

Nancy Keenan and one of the other female lesislators set up a free-standing tent in the aisle, unrolled sleeping bags, got in and went to sleep until the boys were done playing their games.

Watching the speech I kept trying to memorize phrases for later reference, but in the end, my favorite part came after the speech when Malia and Sasha came on stage and waved to the video feed of Obama and said “Hi Daddy!” into the microphone.  Tall stately Michelle Obama bent down to talk to her daughters. (Physical Theatre–stronger than words)

At the YMCA swimming pool we were getting ready to leave and I said to the other mother, “I think we’re missing Michelle Obama’s speech”  

“They work out a lot!” was her reply.

I was preoccupied with the visual.  That’s what a successful professional woman looks like.  

Once upon a time I wanted to be a successful woman like that.  I saw some of them when I interned at the DNC as a college student and returned after graduation to work for my congressman.  I thought maybe I should go to law school.  But, most women I met did not look like Michelle Obama.  Most women did not carry themselves that tall.  They wore suits to work, but their jobs were in reality sucky clerical jobs, or they had the titles but the job they got through connections (It was Washington, DC) was an uncomfortable fit.  I never found a role model like Michelle Obama was said to be in the pre-speech DNC film.  It would have been nice.  I wore suits and carried high heel pumps in my shoulder strapbriefcase while I commuted in running shoes with white socks over my nylons.  But, once I got do work, I didn’t know why I was there outside of a vague aspiration to do good work and be the kind of person who wore Anne Taylor suits to work every day.

Michelle Obama has a lot more going on.

There is a lot to do.

I’ve got my South Oxford Space rehearsals booked for daytimes when My Kid is in school.  

I’ve decided what to wear on stage.

My Kid has a dentist appointment this week.

We have to shop for school supplies.

I have to get the apartment ready for company.

We’re going to Coney Island on Friday to see the Cyclones play.

My Kid and I need to clean her room and go through her closets and toss the outgrown clothes and toys.

Hardest of all–I need to get my kid back on the school year sleep schedule!

Someone in this family is in EUROPE on business AND IT’S NOT ME.  

IT SHOULD BE ME.  I’M THE ONE who studied French.   I’M THE ONE who loves to travel.  I’M THE ONE who has a list of European clowns and circuses  and opera companies I want to see.  I’M THE ONE creating a non-verbal physical theatre that I hope will take me to EUROPE someday.

Instead, I am hiding in the bedroom trying to write (as a journalism grad it was supposed to be my career once upon a time) while My Kid watches too much “Spongebob Squarepants” and eats sugared cereal in the other room.  I feel guilty because as a “stay-at-home-mom”  I am supposed to prepare frugal yet organic meals  in my beautiful yet practically decorated home while simultaneously presiding over creative art projects and planning educational outings for my offspring.

When a couple has a baby, as a general rule, one of the careers takes a back seat.  Nursing mothers have to work so hard not to stay home that they generally stay home.  Then one by one women on maternity leave go back to work and after a while the only adults pushing strollers to play group and playgrounds are the professional caregivers, freelancers and artists.

Subsidized childcare outside weekday office hours is rare.  Jobs with irregular hours are not.  Nannies can cost less than daycare, but the economy comes from being able to offer a regular schedule.  If I was in rehearsal for a play now,  instead of “working on a piece”, I’d be screwed.

 I am enabling The Husband to have both career and family simply by being the one who is always around.  It is the path of least resistance.  For a woman without paid help or near-by relatives involved with her children to the point of sleep-over babysitting, it would be almost impossible to leave the country for a week WITH ONLY 2 DAYS NOTICE.

When I was still single, I worked in Japan as part of a group of 10 variety entertainers on a 4-month contract.  Two of the men had toddlers and neither was still with the mother.  

“She was into having a baby…but, I couldn’t practice at home…so I had to leave…” said one of the jugglers.

The mother of a teenager almost broke her contract when her own mother, who her daughter was staying with, called to let the performer know that her child was cutting classes and threatening to drop out of high school.  Her juggling partner and husband (who was not the father of the teenager) didn’t think it was his problem.

Another juggler desperately missed his 3 boys, but his relationship with his wife was not good.

Sigh.

Work is hard.  When combined with family life it can seem almost impossible.

There is ego involved as well.  

When My Kid was a baby, I met several men who were stay-at-home-dads (because they worked in the arts and their wives had the jobs with insurance).  Inevitably when I next saw their kids on the playground they were with a babysitter and when I next ran into the men, they had gone back to work because being home with the kids and not working was making them crazy.

I can’t find it now, but a while ago, I read a blog that was started by a man who was staying home with his infant son.  He blogged about how easy it was to plop his kid into the jogging stroller and go for a run.  He blogged about training seriously each morning before his wife left for work.  He was a triathlete or  marathon runner or something like that.  The days were going so smoothly he didn’t know why more men didn’t stay home with their babies.  The blog ended abruptly after a month or two.  No more entries.