And… if you have some plastic flowers, strings of fake pearls or rhinestones, overly sweet stuffed animal — or a large ugly Toad — perhaps you could bring it for a Positive/Negative prop.  Or fake legs for the gore fabric…

Hey child of mine do you have any stuffed animals we could use for the…

NO!

…show.

After rehearsal today I talked to some friends on the way to pick up my kid.

I was remembering a particular workshop when we were improvising from songs and the song I was assigned was; “At Seventeen” and I had felt like such a failure because I didn’t have any impulses for movement or vocalization.  I just had a very strong image of a very sad teenaged girl in her room alone listening to the radio.  It seemed an inauspicious place from which to begin to create some clown magic.

When I got home tonight, I looked up the song on youtube and found out the artist was Janis Ian and she is a fascinating person who still has a career.  I watched about six youtube videos of the song by various artists and they all just stood there and sang as simply as possible holding their bodies almost still (if they weren’t playing a guitar) with eyes downcast part of the time because the music and lyrics are so powerful.  So I was overriding my impulses that night I thought I was failing at improvisation.  The impulse really was to do nothing but just to be still and to be sad.   I fought that impulse and choked.  I thought I had to move and sing gibberish.  The text is strong.  I just wanted to listen to the text and then I wanted to continue the original text, and the image of a sad teenaged girl alone in her room was so strong.  It seemed wrong as a starting point for clown.  I can see using that music and having a piece work.  I love the pathetic clown.  And yet…

What can I say…

…I choked…

It was just an exercise…

Just an improv…

Nothing anyone did from the improvisations that grew out of that song made it into the final show…

Just sayin…

This has been a long month.  The Husband has had major project deadlines at work.  My Kid has begun 4th grade which has been emotional for me because when I began 4th grade it was in a new school, in a new town, in a new state.

The clown show rehearsals have been frequent and sometimes arduous.  Four rehearsals a week is almost 5 days a week.  Five days a week is almost full time work.  I know, I know, it’s part time…

I don’t know why this September has been so stressful, but it has so there it is.

Perhaps it’s just the change of seasons and the shorter days.

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I had to take My Kid to rehearsal, but only for a few minutes.   The Husband was able to leave his office early and he got to Great Jones street to pick up My Kid before we got started.  Another clown mommy had her kid there for just as long.  He’s almost 2.  The dad showed up about 15 minutes after call time.  Transitions are hard when we have to be somewhere at 6:30.  Too late for after school care but too early for the student-babysitters to be home and available.

It has taken me a long time to figure out that when we walk in the door at 6:00 pm it is the start of the pre-show for a three hour dinner/homework/bath/bed experience produced by myself, every school night to varying audience reaction.

The kid in bed by 9 pm, (hair combed, teeth brushed, book read, dolls kissed and tucked in, bathroom visited at least twice) merits a standing ovation.

To some minds, 9pm is a late bedtime for a child but the ideal bedtimes are unrealistic.  My Kid wants to eat dinner with her father.  That seems reasonable, but she also wants to save some of her homework to do with him and she also likes to cook together as a family.   The Husband likes that too.   Sigh.  If only we had more than a galley kitchen…  The family cooking thing only goes smoothly if I’ve done my job as a prep cook.

My Kid can and will stay awake longer than her parents.

If I don’t keep stage managing the evening towards the final goal of bed (with homework done, half hour of reading done, bath done, dinner made (or take-out ordered…We are in New York) eaten and cleaned up after, and anything else that has to be done before bed–if I let down my guard even for a little while suddenly it’s 11:00 pm and nobody is in bed.  Then The Husband will say something like: “OK people, I don’t know what you think needs to happen, but I have to get up early.  As far as I’m concerned the day has ended.”

And so it is up to me.

I’m not complaining.

I’m just saying; it’s a show and putting on a show takes effort.

My Kid wants to take piano.  I’m all for it but I dread adding half an hour of piano practice to the show.

OK this is totally F%&*#@-up.  There is an e-mail about late fees owed.

I know, I know, I totally signed on to the cash fine for being late to rehearsal.  (I was all for extra $$ for cast parties!)  I was late a couple of times.

But,

I have just spent twice as much at Kinko’s on copies for the press kits than my “tickets” for being late to rehearsal.

I was going to swallow the cost of the copies.

But,

Now, I feel like turning in the receipts for reimbursement.

Somehow,

The way that we are approaching the promotional tasks related to this production…

Are…

I can only speak for myself…

Making us dysfunctional.

In a moment of… not solitude exactly –more like nobody is asking me to do anything at this particular moment–I open my laptop to write and it’s full of Disney Channel games My Kid uploaded while I was doing something else!  

With apologies to Virgina Woolf, author of the 1929 essay “A Room of One’s Own”,  a laptop of one’s own is perhaps what is necessary for a woman to write in these times.  Apparently I don’t even have that!

Aghhhhhhhh!

Finally after such a long time I feel happy and relieved after rehearsal.

The day in the studio went well.  Kendall told us that even though the show isn’t put together we have all the parts and some good material.  She also said she is aware that some people have reactions to her in a position of authority that she didn’t expect and that she is aware that sometimes in rehearsal trying to be heard above the music her voice may sound harsh.  I know she doesn’t want to do everything herself and we have all volunteered to get things done towards the production.  But she has cast herself as the artistic director of the company and has our tacit approval by our participation in the shows that she creates.  So it is not unexpected that we would look to her for direction.

I still had a great deal of anxiety going into rehearsal.  My level of anxiety over my performance in this rehearsal process has been way out of proportion with the production.  It’s just six performances.  It’s the cabaret space.  We aren’t even in the eight o’clock slot.  While riding the subway I decided that if my work ethic or commitment or willingness to try was questioned I would say, “I’m here.  If you want me to leave I will.”  Guess what, I had an opportunity to say just that and it was such a relief.  All this talk about “stepping up and trying harder” has had upon me (and I suspect some of the others) the opposite of the intended effect.

There was this weird game where we got into groups according to wether we feel really good about the show where it is at this point, whether we think its terrible or wether we are confused.  I put myself in the confused group and when she asked me if I was confused with the follow up what can you do about that I said, “…Medication?!”

Finally there was a request for how do people feel about the production work and clowning.  I broke the silence with, “Well I judge my clowning by my computer skills.”

It felt good to get it out.  Maybe it was misunderstood today but I don’t think so.  I think I was clear and concise.  I think I expressed with as few words as possible that I’m not entirely healthy about this show and if the work I’m doing in the studio is not acceptable as it is then I need to not be in this show.  I guess that’s a little strong.  The Husband said, “Wow” when I told him I said, “I am here, if you don’t want me here I will leave.”  Most people weren’t saying anything and the gung-ho girl scouts in the group were repeating their usual I always work hard and I am committed phrases.

I don’t understand how people can say; “I always do my best.”  I never know if I’ve done my best until it’s all over.

It’s Yom Kippur, the New York Public Schools are closed so my kid is home.  Even if there was school she would probably home today with a cold.  So here I am with a sunny day, a kid with enough energy to play  and I can’t call anyone for a playdate because she is germy.  The Husband also has a cold and he looked pretty miserable as he got ready for work this morning.  He was coughing as his cold moves to his chest from his head where it was yesterday, after making it’s first appearance in his throat on Saturday.  But, he can’t stay home, there is a deadline.

For me it’s a day of playing catch-up as I realize how many things I have let slide after two three-day weekends of rehearsals with a week of production work sandwiched in between.  My kid is missing the weekend family time and has made her point in a number of ways from the very clear “I don’t like it when you are always at rehearsal,” to end-of-the day meltdowns.

(Yesterday at the end of the rehearsal when we were talking about the upcoming techs which will be on weeknights in venue between 5:30 and 11:00 pm  one of the other clowns spoke of her anxiety over childcare.  She was awake in the middle of the night worrying about it.  The time is hard because the start time is before the husbands are home so babysitters must be found, babysitters that will more than eat up the small payment we will receive for these performances.  I didn’t perform in New York at all when My Kid was little.  It was just too expensive.  You have to pay cash up front not just for all the hours spent at auditions, rehearsals and performances, but also for all the time spent traveling to and from home and the studios and theaters.  Where I live in Brooklyn there are daycare centers with waiting lists and a large network of live-out nannies that come to the home to watch the children of professionals during office hours.  But, when the work is evenings and on weekends, childcare is covered by a patchwork of babysitters made up of artists, students, relatives and neighbors.  Organizing enough coverage to meet work obligations can become overwhelming and that is the real reason that women with children drop out of the workforce.  They really want to work and they enjoy it.

I overhead a couple of mothers at school the other day.  One had just gone back to work and the other was asking how it was going.  The response, “It’s so easy.  I come home from work and the kids have already run around at the playground and the house  is clean!”