This is what I do in my spare mind.

Being at home with the kids all day, I've noticed that I've been spending a lot of time inside my own head. I'm trying my very best to be "present" all the time, but frankly, there's only so much brain power need to play with trains and sand, read countless truck books (with no storyline - throw me a bone here!) or to sweep cereal off the floor AGAIN. So I make up little projects for my brain to think about.

This past week, I read We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. I've been wanting to read this ever since I studied The Haunting of Hill House (one of the best books EVER) in university. When I Googled We Have Always Lived in the Castle so that Mr Earth could order it for me, I noticed that there was an acting edition by Hugh Wheeler available. Of course, this little nugget of info stuck in my head, and when I started reading the book, I couldn't help but try to cast the novel in my head.

I may be an actor, but I think I'm also a frustrated casting agent. Direction is important and all, but if you haven't cast your show well, then you're lost from the beginning. I have huge issues when I go see a movie that was originally a book, and I don't think the casting was appropriate. (Don't get me started on the Twilight movie - were they temporarily blind when they cast Rosalie and Jasper?? Ug.)

Anyways, once I started casting the book in my head, I thought: Wouldn't it be interesting if I tried to cast the book from bloggers, solely based on what I know from their writing, and random pictures of themselves that they may have posted. Here's what I came up with (please keep in mind that when I say you have the ability to portray a character it's a compliment to your intellect and sensitivity - not that I necessarily think you are that person...):

Mary Katherine (Merricat) Blackwood. Merricat is the central character and we see the book through her eyes. She is prone to daydreaming and dark thoughts about people who treat her or her family badly. She uses sympathetic magic and superstition for protection. Despite this, she misses nothing and isn't afraid to speak her mind. She has been described as one of the 100 Best Fiction Characters since 1900.

My natural inclination is to cast Painted Maypole. An accomplished actress who has done numerous and varied roles would be crucial to play the many shades of gray that Merricat displays along with the black and white. However, when I read the book, I immediately thought of Beck's dark, ethereal, good looks and razor sharp wit. I'm afraid I would have to call them both in and see who gives the better reading.

Constance Blackwood. Accused and acquitted of putting arsenic in the sugar bowl and murdering a large portion of her family. Described by Merricat as a fairy princess, "all pink and white and golden". She is a domestic goddess and agoraphobic. Despite all accusations, some people in the town want her to come back into society - presumably because she's so beautiful and charming that it would be a waste for her to hide away. BlogChocolate wins the role.

Uncle Julian. Frail and daft, he was poisoned by the arsenic but somehow survived. He spends all his time trying to remember, and record, the events of that fateful day. This role requires someone with excellent comedic timing. I think I would choose Looky, Daddy! but I am open to suggestions here.

Charles Blackwood. Cousin to the girls, he is after the Blackwood fortune and Constance - probably in that order. Requires someone who can show cynicism and self-importance, and yet still somehow remain likeable and persuasive with regards to Connie. I've chosen Denguy.

Helen Clarke. Seems like kind of a busybody-type but I believe she genuinely believes that what she's doing will help the girls. One of the few people that remains friends with the Blackwoods after the incident. I'm extra careful about casting "smaller characters". I think people tend to not take them as seriously. I think they require stronger actors than the leads, because they have less to work with and yet must be fully-developed people. This role needs an actor with the ability to play someone who is not as smart as she thinks she is. Which means, to me, you need an incredibly clever person. Only really smart people know how to play dumb. Dumb people are just...dumb. I would therefore call in Mad, Kittenpie, HBM and Bea to see which person works best with the cast and gives the best read.

Mrs Wright. Frightened by the Blackwoods, but morbidly curious, she comes to tea with Helen Clarke and wants all the details of that fateful night. I think Katie would make me laugh in this role.

Jonas. In the book, Jonas was Merricat's cat and you get the sense that he is also her "familiar". In the play version, he was revised to be an adopted servant boy, but I would keep this as a person playing a cat - boy or girl (Much like Sarah Jessica Parker played a dog in Sylvia on Broadway). Jonas watches everything and misses nothing. You get the feeling that he understands and has opinions. He follows Merricat everywhere, but is drawn to Charles for a bit. The person playing this cat must have incredible magnetism and the ability to create a rich inner world. You must be able to know what the person is thinking from reading the eyes and the body language. I don't think Jonas needs to be a "he", and Kgirl is the only person with enough audacity to take on such a challenging role.

Do you agree with my casting? Please feel free to argue why you would be right for the suggested - or any other - role. Or, cast yourself in a different book. These kind of things intrigue my small brain.

I kinda wish my last name started with a "J".

At the end of our last book club meeting, it was announced that the next book would be JPod by Douglas Coupland. My heart sunk. There are certain types of books that I just naturally avoid because, however clever they may be, they are just not my cup of tea. I was dreading having to plow through a book that just doesn't interest me.

I am here to tell you I was dead wrong.

(I am also here to tell you that I thought Douglas Coupland wrote The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I was also dead wrong about that. That was Douglas Adams, not Douglas Coupland at all. Stoopid.)

(And while we're on the subject of the Hitchhiker's Guide, the movie of that book was possibly one of the worst movies I've ever seen. Gah! I can never get that time back...)

I went into this JPod experience completely fresh. (Obviously, since I thought Coupland was Adams...duh.) I have no idea if JPod is just an updated version of Microserfs, and frankly, I don't care. It was just plain good. No, great. In fact, I haven't has as much fun reading a book in...well, I can't really remember when.

The basic premise is that it's about the lives of six young video game programmers in BC who were all assigned to the same cubicle pod by an HR computer glitch - they all have names starting with the letter "J". Seing as they're all young and basically unnattached, they pretty much spend their lives at (or around) work. Except that they seem to do everything and anything under the sun OTHER than work. They play clever (read: nerdy) pranks on each other. They write descriptions of themselves as if they were going to sell themselves on Ebay. The write a love letter to Ronald McDonald because they figure he's lonely. They shun anyone who brings "The Taint" (McDonald's food) into the office. In otherwords, this is my kind of place to work. How many times have I been at work and wanted to kill someone who brought McDonald's fries back to their cubicle? I get these people. Which must mean that I am a nerd too. (Shock! Horrors!! How can life continue??).

What I found especially intriguing was the premise that many more people than you think are actually undiagnosed, highly-functioning autistics. All the members of JPod are highly technically adept, and yet are presumed to be mildly autistic . And no one is any the wiser. It really made me think. Thinking is good. (Not thinking = Bad.)

It was so refreshingly different, and yet so comfortably familiar, to read a book with topical references. I am so used to reading classical literature, historical romances and modern books from different cultures (my go-to reads) that this was a breath of fresh air. And I didn't even get all the jokes, methinks. There were a lot of math-y, computer-y little digs that I am assuming just went over my head. And yet I never felt like I was missing out.

However much I liked the book, I didn't think it was perfect. I didn't like Coupland inserting himself as a character in the book. I appreciated that he made himself seem like an evil a$$hole, but it still came off as kind of conceited and just a bit...lame. I also didn't like the pages of "spam" all that much. I get the effect Coupland was going for, but it seemed kind of pointless.

Still...I laughed out loud (a rarity for me). I forced Mr Earth to listen to countless little excerpts and (lame attempts) at retelling of sections. He is now required to read the book, because he knows I won't stop talking about it until I do. I wish I had watched the CBC show while it was on TV, because I just went to Amazon to order it, and it costs too much. I'm on a budget, people! Aren't Canadian shows supposed to be cheap??

Do you need more of a reccomendation? Cause I can come to your house and talk about it. Mr Earth would be relieved.

I guess love really is blind.

Mr Earth is always whining and moaning about how I never notice it when he cuts his hair. Blah, blah, blah. The hair goes from short, to short-ER. While I certainly appreciate the transformation from shaggy to dapper, I liken it to Crystal Gayle cursing her beau if he doesn't notice that she gave her hair a quarter-inch trim. (Don't it just make your brown eyes blue??)

Today, I had to visit the dentist. I still go to the same (ridiculously over-priced) dentist that is close to my (former) place of work because I'm too lazy to find someone new. And because Mr Earth works nearby, and I can drop the kids off at the office for some daddy-time, and get my teeth scraped in relative peace.

I hate showing up at Mr Earth's place of business in my regular clothes. Housewife Chic may cut it at the Early Years Centre, but I feel rather out of place in snobby downtown TO. So I dressed up. I wore a belted cashmere sweater and my slimming jeans. I wore my good coat - the one that I used to wear to work (except I don't work anymore and it's too fancy to wear slobbing around so I don't wear it at all coat). I wore earrings while schlepping a grabby toddler. I wore heels. I never wear heels. I blowdried my newly-cut hair. I put on makeup. I even put on lipstick. I never, ever, wear lipstick (evil stuff).

I never saw the inside of Mr Earth's office.

He picked the kids up outside of dentist's office (kind soul that he is), and dropped them off with me as soon as I was finished. I got dressed up for nothing. I certainly didn't get dressed up to see the dentist. He's creepy.

When I complained, he said: "Oh, I didn't notice you got dressed up."

What??

That's it. It's scrunchies and Fat Pants from now on. If love is blind then I, for one, am going to take full advantage.

Hulky St Patrick's Day!

The In-Between Kite Running World of Q&A

OK, so I was at a bloggy book-club meeting last week and the book was Vassanji's The In-Between World of Vikram Lall. I was so excited to read it. I took a Canadian literature in university, and loved Vassanji's work (especially No New Land).

I couldn't get through it.

Granted, I was doing a play. I was very tired. My limited subway-related reading time was axed now that I'm a stay-at-home mom. BUT. I did manage to finish other books while doing a show. I gave up napping "while the children are napping" in order to finish some of them. But I didn't.

I almost never give up a book without finishing it. I can count on one hand the number of times I've done this. White's The Once and Future King. (And for the record, I did like it and got within 50 pages of the end and just gave up because it was soooooooooo loooooooooong. I have a short attention span. I felt life was passing me by.) Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd. Um, boring, much? DON'T TAKE THREE PAGES TO DESCRIBE A SUNSET. You'll lose me. There were a couple other books - probably French ones because I was in immersion classes - but they didn't make enough of an impression to stay in my memory.

My (very intelligent) summation of Vikram Lall? Too many...words. There were so many foreign words used that I spent half my time trying to figure out what they meant instead of enjoying the story. And by the way...what story?? I'm still not sure what the book is about. I'm sure, though, if I could make myself read more then something would happen. Eventually. I don't like reading books where it takes FOREVER to get the plot going. Oliver Twist was like that. The movie-musical starts on page 495. I know. I read the whole damn thing, cover to cover for english class.

Anyways, a good friend and I were talking about the book at the meeting, and how it made us feel stupid to read it. We then went on to compare it to The Kite Runner, which is equally foreign to a Canadian middle class audience, and yet we both loved it. And felt like we even maybe learnt a thing or two. In fact, I still can't stop thinking about The Kite Runner. It's my top recommendation for anyone looking for a sensational read.

A very smart lady pointed out that Kite Runner was written with movie adaptability in mind, while Vikram Lall was not. And that is why Hosseini's novel is more accessible to general audiences. She got me there. I had no clue about that.

Then I got to thinking. Why on earth would you write a book that is NOT accessible to the general public?? Vassanji was writing a popular fiction novel, not a text book. I can only assume that he wants to reach as wide an audience as possible. I'm not a stupid person. I'm no beginner reader. I like book-candy as much as the next girl, but I'm also a person who reads Tolstoy and Shakespeare FOR FUN. I certainly hope that Vassanji's goal was not to alienate a potential fan of his work by creating a novel that is only for Elite Readers.

Or, have I just turned stupid? Can people get stupider as they age??? Don't answer that. I don't think I want to know.

I also read Q&A by Vikus Swarup, the novel behind Slumdog Millionaire. Pretty much my favourite novel EVER (since Kite Runner). It was such a charming, clever and wonderful book. I loved it so much. I was SO excited to see the movie. I loved the movie too, but it was different from the book. They made the romance so much more central in the movie (of course). But what shocked me the most is that they changed all the questions asked on the game show. Why?? To make them more accessible to a general movie-going public? The questions in the book were fine. There was no need to change them.

Why does everyone in the film industry feel the need to "dumb things down" for the movie-goers, and why do some authors feel the need to "smart things up" to make their books more erudite?? I don't know if I'm coming or going. Stupid or smart.

Again, don't answer that question. I don't think I'd like the outcome.

Proof I was in a show.

"And he's in a band. A rock band?"

"I know that. You were on your own. I really regret that, Katie."

"Catherine, I'm sorry, but I just find this very hard to believe."

"Can you tell me about it? The proof. I'm just curious."

"I would like to see a doctor called Doctor von Heimlich. Please, find one."

The Fantastic Four.

The Play: Adjudication and Reviews

Overall, I have been really pleased with the production that I'm currently in. The actors all get along really well, and for the first time (ever, I think), I am 100% confident in everybody's work onstage. For those of you who have done local theatre, I'm sure you've experienced those cringe-worthy moments when you know something is bad, but it is just never going to be fixed and you have to deal with it. I don't have that with this play. Not for one single second. The acting is strong, the set is wonderful, the direction is good. It all works. And I'm pretty harsh when it comes to shows I'm personally involved with, so saying that means alot. This week brought us our reviews and adjudication, and for the first time, I felt a bit deflated.

The problem is that reviews for local theatre aren't, technically, actual reviews. They're more like re-caps. They tell the readers a lot of what the play is about, hoping to lure people to the theatre I guess, but they don't say much about what is actually good or bad about a production. They focus on the positive, which is good, but gives you the feeling that they say nice things about every production. And that, of course, makes their opinion less...valuable? trustworthy? Who knows. And they're not necessarily written by people who know anything about theatre.

For example, our first review stated "The performances from the actors in this movie were raw and honest.", which is very complimentary - if we were in the movie. Gwyneth Paltrow and Anthony Hopkins were certainly good, but we are not them. Was that a typo? Or did she think she was seeing a movie? Or did she just rent the movie and pretend she saw the play??

Our second review was also positive, written by a blogger who usually reviews professional productions, but was somehow convinced to see our play. She definitely liked the show, but made a point of saying how it was unusual for "community" theatre to be so good. Kind of a back-handed compliment, no?

The third review was much better than it's predecessors, but made no mention of ME at all (except for the fact that I was, in fact, in the production), so OF COURSE I am all bitter and don't like it eventhough it was quite positive. Nyah. I'm so mature.

On Sunday, we had our adjudication for the ACT-CO awards. The winners in this festival remount the show in May and compete against other winning productions from different sectors. We were all incredibly nervous. I, for one, haven't done an adjudication since high school, and wasn't particularly keen on it. I'm incredibly proud of this show, and I have no desire for anyone to tell me all the things that are wrong with it.

All in all, it didn't go how I thought it would. The adjudicator seemed to like it, but criticized the pacing in the first act especially. He thought it was too fast and didn't give the actors time to react "in real time". I see his point - we were nervous and perhaps going a bit fast in Act 1 - but the work was all there, and so were the reactions. With a wordy play like this one, the pacing is crucial - go too slowly and it dies right there on the stage. I also thought he would have a more "bird's eye viewpoint" of the production. Talking with him was much like getting director's notes after a rehearsal. Instead of saying "I like how you reacted to that line", I thought it would be more of a "I liked/didn't like how you portrayed that character." Overall, I left the adjudication feeling uneasy, and even unsure if he liked it.

One week left. No matter what happens, I will be very sad when this show is over.

Cross-posted at Playdate

Blood Brothers

It's funny how when you have your second baby, you think you know everything already. Especially when they're both boys. What could be different, right? And you expect everything to go exactly the way that it went the first time around. And then it doesn't. And you're like - oh yeah! they're different people - and you just don't know what is going to happen.

Is it just me?

Big C was somewhat of an "atypical" baby. We would faithfully read all the milestones in the parenting books and go "Yeah, that's just not happening right now." He got his first teeth at 13 months, and all of a sudden four teeth popped out with no drooling, no pain. Nothing. They just appeared. He didn't walk until he was 16 months. He would stand. He would walk if you held his hand, but that was it. We dropped him off with my parents one afternoon so we could catch a movie, came back, and he was walking. Nay, running. Boom. Just like that. After that, we pretty much disregarded the parenting books as being useless information..

Little G, on the other hand, has been pretty much right on the marker. And this time around, something would happen - like rolling over, or sitting up - and we'd consult the book after the fact only to find he was no "genius", he was just on track with any other baby in the world. In fact, I had noticed that he was particularly adept in the physical realm. Big C will sit and work at drawing for hours, while Little G is more hell-bent on destruction. He figured out how to open a bank of drawers so that they work like steps up to the counter. He, without any example from any of us certainly, will use anything stick-like to whack at any approximation of a ball. You can't turn your back on him or he will most likely be up the stairs or out the door before you can count to ten.

So we were shocked that month after month went by without him even coming close to walking. He actually didn't even crawl. He "boot-scooted" everywhere. I can't tell you how many people have commented on his crawling style. "I've never seen any baby crawl like that. Look at him!" Like he was a freak of nature, or something. I will admit that he kind of looks like some primordial ape when he crawls, but I have absolutely seen other babies do this. It's not new.

Anyways... he's been standing for ages. And then all of a sudden it happened. A side-step. A moment of free-standing. A couple of steps followed by a crash. Now, he's walking a few feet at a time before he hits bottom. Literally. And he's SO excited by it. He's trying so hard to walk all the time. He's getting it. Slowly. Several bloody noses and countless bruises later, he's getting it. The trouble is not walking. The trouble is that he wants to run.

16 months old. Just like his brother. Should I be so sentimental that they share something that is, in the long run, so negligable? I don't care. Today, it warms my heart.

The Play: Opening Week

OK, so I know how you all are just DYING to find out how opening week for my play went. I'm sure it's hard to think of anything else. Seriously though, how do you stand going about your daily life without knowing? It must be hard. I really feel for you. So...kind person that I am, I decided to fill you in on all the details. You are so very, very lucky!

We started off the week with rehearsals every day - Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. By the time our last dress rehearsal rolled around, we were exhausted. And dying for a real audience.

Thursday was Opening Night. It was a large crowd filled with friendly people. There were members of East Side Players from past shows, the play reading committee and from the board. Cast and crew were each given complimentary tickets so each of us had a familiar face in the audience. For me, it was the Husband. Everyone LOVED the show. They are a bit biased, but still, they loved it. They loved it so much, in fact, that they found it uproariously funny. It was a bit disconcerting. We knew that there were moments with humour written into the script, but we had no idea it was a farce. It was interesting. And kind of fun. It erased my exhaustion for the time being.

There was a wine and cheese after the show, and we got to mingle with the audience. That was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be. I usually don't like those kind of things at all, because I am very shy. But person after person came up to me telling me how much they enjoyed the show. I barely had time to eat, and had to make the Husband my fetch-and-carry boy because I was starving! A lot of the people who talked to me were East Side big-wigs, and I've been out of the loop for so long that I had no idea who they were, but had to pretend I did. Very awkward. Bad actor, bad!

The second night's audience was much more subdued. In reality, though, they were very good, and had the kind of response that I was actually expecting for the play. The show, for us, was technically much more smooth (there were a lot of quickly-covered goofs on opening), but our tiredness was starting to show. Everyone needed sleep.

Saturday night was the biggie for me. A bunch of my very favourite bloggirls got together and came to see the show. I was STUPENDOUSLY nervous. Here were a bunch of wonderfully articulate, intelligent, funny and nice women who have never seen me act. It's strange how your mom-life and your work-life can be very separate. What would they think? Would they like the show? I came face to face with the fact that it is one thing to say that you are an actor, and a very different thing altogether to actually have to prove that you can act. Luckily for me, it was a good night, and they seemed to have a good time. I KNOW I had a fantastic time at the bar afterwards. (And really, isn't it ALL ABOUT drinking at the bar afterwards? I'm not an alcoholic! Shut up! I only have trouble drinking when people ask me to stop...)

The Sunday matinée was a bit up and down for me. We had a great crowd. People love matinées for some reason. Me? I loathe them. I think it's weird to do a show when it's still light outside. This week, our matinee (March 1st) is being adjudicated for the ACTCO awards. The house is over-sold for that show. Gulp. Wish me luck. Or break a leg. Or bad rice. Whatever is en vogue these days. I just can't keep up anymore.

Cross posted at Playdate

This is what I look like on chalk.

And the expression pretty much sums up my state of mind for tomorrow's Opening Night.

Gulp.

If I Only Had the Nerve

They don't call it "Hell Week" for nothing.

Today was the start of a very long week for me. We were in the theatre all day posing as walking and talking props for the crew who are trying to work out the sound and lighting cues for the show. We've done Italian runs and lines runs and just plain running lines, but we haven't done an actual "acting" run in what seems like forever. Tomorrow night we do a Tech Run. Tuesday and Wednesday we do Dress Runs. Thursday, we open the show. And I'm starting to lose my nerve.

Hell, I HAVE lost my nerve.

I've been trying to figure out why.

The other night, while watching Americal Idol (Have you been watching this season? WOW. The singers are AWESOME. Truly exciting.), I finally got it. This means so much to me. More than ever before. I mean, a show opening is always important. Always. I'm not professional, but I try to conduct myself in all my productions as if I am.

I haven't done a show in four years. Four. Long. Years. And then some.

There are people coming to the show who have never seen me act. And that scares me. It scares the living crap out of me. It used to be the kind of thing that excited me, and now it has the exact opposite effect. It's one thing to say that you're an actor, and another thing entirely to prove that you are. People can only judge for themselves based on what they see, especially if they've never seen anything else.

But perhaps that is not exactly the crux of the matter. The fact is that this is the one thing I have right now that is just about me. No one else. And if I don't do this well, where does it leave me? Who am I? I mean, I can't tell you the number of times in the past few years that I have been referred to as C's mum, or just "Mum". Frequently. It's not bad. It's a badge I wear proudly. But one time, a while back, someone asked me what my name was, and I had to stop and think about it. I actually forgot for a second. Weird, huh? Who forgets their own name??

Not to mention that the whole transition to SHAM (uh, SAHM) has been much easier for the simple fact that I am in a play. I am enjoying my time at home because I know that it is balanced with an equal and opposite time away from home. A time without sticky fingers and snotty noses. As of March 7th, that will no longer be true. And that scares me too.

I want to be good. I want to prove the I have skills that don't involve organizing playdates and providing a variety of snack foods for endlessly empty stomachs. I want my family to be proud of me - even the two people who are too small to see the show. I want to renew my faith in myself as someone who has outside talents and interests. I want to make this time that I've spent away from my family, and the countless people that I've inconvenienced for it, worth it.

I want to find the nerve.

And I want this small person in my gut, the one who says I can't do it and I'll never be good enough - good, yes, but never good "enough" - to shut up and go away already. I am sick to death of listening to her. She is killing my buzz. Goodbye.

I am agog.

I am officially impressed. Painted Maypole does, like, four times the amount of shows that I do (or more) and yet she still finds time to post regularly. I'm having a hard time fitting it in. I get about an hour break a day (if the kidlets actually decide to nap), and by the time I finish running my lines, I have - at most - twenty minutes left. I usually fall asleep. Oh yes, I could post after the kids are in bed, but on the nights that I'm home, I'm pretty much a zombie by the time the kids are in bed. I veg out in front of the tv. I manage to watch one show before I konk out. It's sad.

Tonight, we're doing an Italian Run, which means we do all the dialogue and blocking, just really fast. (If anyone out there is Italian, please don't email all up in arms - that's what this kind of run is called. I didn't make it up). On Sunday, we finally move into the theatre. Yahoo! The stage won't be ready yet, so we're going to do a line run in the dressing room, and have our headshots done.

That's one thing that really bugs me about local theatres. I spent a whackload of money on professional headshots so that great lighting and a thick layer of makeup would make me look less scary than usual. And yet every show that I do insists that they have someone come in and take ANOTHER headshot, so that all the headshots look alike. Who cares if they look alike?? I just want to look good. I have three zits right now. I will not look good. I will look tired, old and spotted.

Anyways, Maypole wanted me to post more about the rehearsal process. I realized that I promised I would do that over at Playdate. I am Mama Drama after all. I've been sadly lax about that promise. So I posted the good stuff this week. All the gossip and the drama. Go have a read. I didn't work on my lines that day, so I could share the dirt.

Full Story at 11

Extremely large baby attacks local garage. Motivation seems to be need to use tiny slide. Trail of drool daunting.

Extremely large baby continues trail of carnage -- attracted by helicopter at local airport. Fate of passengers not yet determined.

Proof that katie (motherbumper) is kickin' ass and takin' numbers

So, you know I'm an actor, but did you know I'm in a play next month?

Well, now you do. No excuses.

It's been a long time since I've done show. A long time. I'm not sure I even remember how to act. (Sidenote: Ha! I couldn't even spell act! I kept typing "ackt".) It's good timing actually. Now that I'm home with the kids all day, I need an excuse to get out and have some "me" time. I often go to rehearsal with graham cracker sludge sticking to my clothes somewhere but - hey - still ME time. Just a dirtier version of me. And not in a good way.

Anyways, if you're in the Toronto area, would you like to come out and see it? I hope it's going to be good. If not, there's a bar up the hill and you can leave at intermission and go get hammered. That's where I usually spend intermission anyways. (Don't tell the stage manager.)

Moving on.

The super-fantabulous and always-busy-but-still-has-time-to-help-a-friend-out katie (motherbumper) has created this awesome button to help promote the show. I love the company I'm working with, but it's run by volunteers who don't always have the time to publicize the show as much as I would like. If you're coming to see the show, or even if you're not, and even if you don't live anywhere near Toronto, you can help us promote the bejeezers out of the show by posting the button on your sidebar. Word of mouth can do wonders. Support the arts! (Or hey, just read my post railing about arts cuts over at Playdate. It's fun.)

Who knows? Maybe there'll be so much press about the show that I will become rich and famous, and I can stop indulging my growing need for very cheap and very ugly purses that can pass as diaper bags. Please! Mr Earth will thank you! He hates carrying around the "rocker bags". Just ask him.

<a href="http://eastsideplayers.ca/2008-2009-theatre-season/"><img src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o274/mother_bumper/proof.png"></a>

I am a SHAM...uh, SAHM.

Boy, I just clicked on my Blogger Login Icon and it felt strange. Not strange-peculiar, but strange-unusual. It's been too long. The trouble is not that I've been at a loss for words. The trouble is that I've had a surplus of them. Whenever that happens, they tend to come out all a-jumble. Read on if you dare...

Early in December (the 3rd? who knows), I got a call at work from C, the woman who was watching Little G. He's fine, she said, don't worry. It's just that I've had a sort of family emergency and I need you to come pick up Little G asap. I did. Turns out that her dad went into the hospital with what he thought was bronchitis, but upon further investigation, he had terminal lung cancer. C called us later that night and told us that with caring for her father and watching her own two children, she didn't think that she could give Little G the care he needed and she was giving us her notice. She would watch him until our agreed upon break at Christmas, and that was it. I completely understood.

So we set about looking for a new care situation for Little G. I called daycares. I phoned home care agencies. No one had spots for infants. I trawled Craigslist, Kijiji, Daycare Bear and Go Daycare and followed up on any leads I could find. You read about those results if you read my recent post "The Daycare Game". I looked on notice boards in local stores, libraries and drop-in centres. I tried everything I could think of, and no dice. I even interviewed a potential nanny, eventhough financially that's not the best option for us, and eventhough I have been less than impressed with the Nanny Mafia that I have seen carousing our neighbourhood.

Just before Christmas, I went to my boss and told him what had happened. I asked him to consider a leave of absence - unpaid - because we could get Little G into Big C's daycare in March. It wasn't an absolute guarantee, but we are on the priority list since Big C has been there forever, they love him and they knew that we were desperate. My boss checked with Human Resources, and they said NO. However, my boss said I could take some vacation time in January to see if we would have any luck finding someone. It was difficult getting in contact with people over the holidays.

I took a week's vacation - found one nice home care lady who said that she didn't have room, but she could watch Little G for a month till we found something more permanent. That wouldn't get us till March, though.

Then we interviewed a fabulous, wonderful, amazing nanny. A nanny who changed my mind about what nannies could be like. One that was worth taking every penny of my salary to employ. We extended her an offer. I sent my boss an email saying that we had found a possible solution, and that I would be back at work on Monday. Monday morning, she sent us an email saying NO. She couldn't commit the time right now.

So, instead of going back to work victorious, I had to go in and tell my boss that we thought we had a nanny, but we didn't and would he reconsider a leave of absence? At this point, the leave would be about a month and a half, with luck. More, without. He came back from HR with an unequivocal NO. A Leave of Absence was simply not on the table, he said. So I resigned from my job.

Although it may seem like a precipitous decision, it was not. Mr Earth would support any decision I made - to stay home or to keep working. We had come to the conclusion that even if we found another home care situation, it wouldn't work. A nanny was the only realistic solution, and this was the only nanny I had found that met my expectations. I could, of course, find another with time, I am sure, but time is not something I had left.

You see, the double drop-off, and double pick up - two different daycares, two different children and only one me, was making me sick. Literally sick. I would leave work early every day (when I really shouldn't) and take off at a run for the subway. I ran from the subway, and got Big C dressed and shoved him in the stroller. I ran with the stroller to Little G's daycare. Got Big C out and up the stairs, got Little G dressed and both of them down in the stroller to walk home.

Mr Earth, in the meantime, left for work in the wee hours and had to leave work early (when he really couldn't) and go home to make sure that dinner was ready so that the natives wouldn't scream because they hadn't been fed soon enough and they were too tired to wait. We put them to bed, got everything ready for the next day, and it started all over again.

I was sick. I was nauseous all day long, for weeks on end. It got so bad, that I took a pregnancy test. A week after I had my period. And I hadn't had sex since. Does that make sense to you? It didn't to me either. But what else would explain it? It may have been the flu. But would it last so long? Would it magically disappear at Christmas break? And would it magically reappear just after New Year's, when I was supposed to be back at work? I thought I was made of sterner stuff. I thought I could handle this without making up imaginary illnesses. But I guess I couldn't, and there comes a point where you reassess and say - is this really worth it???

Many people have said that I should have fought for my job. Maybe. I was union. I am not a litigious person. I have also never loved my job. It was easy. It allowed me to do theatre in my spare time. When I became a parent, it allowed me to work, but not have that work spill over into my family time. But I have never loved it. I've never really even liked it. Why should I fight for a job that I don't love, in a company that very obviously does not love me?? Cause if they really valued the SEVEN YEARS that I had been a loyal - and exemplary (if I do say so myself) - employee, then they could find a way to make a leave of absence work.

Oh, yes, I am not litigious, but I am angry. I don't think I was treated well. I think that they could have shown more lenience to a working parent who was in a difficult situation. After all, it's not like I was asking for time off because I missed being with my kids (which of course I did, what working parent doesn't?). I asked for it because I saw no other workable solution. I wasn't going to leave my kid with someone I don't like. Not for any job. How could I work?

The last day of my job, I worked until the very end, waiting for something to happen. A chance to say my piece. An exit interview, or something. I finally asked my boss if there was something I was supposed to do. He said he had forwarded the necessary info to HR and asked them if there was something I was supposed to do, and they hadn't gotten back to him. I still don't know if they have. I don't yet have a record of employment or any sort of closure. Thanks for ...nothing.

I am hurt, and angry, and kind of embarrassed. I'm also kind of relieved. And I haven't been nauseous since I left.

I'm still trying to get my head around the fact that I don't have a job anymore. It kind of seems like I'm on mat leave, and that's kind of fun. That will surely change once the money runs out. Now that I don't have to look for care anymore, I can focus my attention on all the things I can do now that I'm at home. All the things I won't miss because I was at work. The future is blasted wide open, and it's kind of... exciting. And very, very scary. I am a person who thrives on structure. I'm not sure just what to do with all this freedom. I need to make some decisions. I need to come up with a plan.

This may be the best thing that could ever have happened to me. Or, it may be just something that happened to me. I won't know for sure until I start moving in a forward direction. One thing is for sure, I won't regret having more time to spend with the boys.

They may regret having more time to spend with me.

We shall see, shan't we?

Four!

How did you get from a baby who screamed a lot, to a boy who calmly walks up the stairs and asks, "How did rehearsal go, Mummy?" How time does fly.

Love you, Boo.

The Daycare Game

It's been really difficult to find the time or the energy to post here when I've been consumed with the search (scramble?) to find child care for Little G. I've known that our home care lady would no longer be available after Christmas since the beginning of December - her father was diagnosed with terminal cancer - but I couldn't find anyone in before Christmas, and trying to talk to anyone at all over the holidays was fruitless. Getting Little G into a licensed daycare is nigh impossible unless I got him on a list three years ago (yes, that was before he was conceived, for anyone doing the math), so I have to find a homecare situation or nanny. He's almost guaranteed a spot at Big C's daycare - which accepts kids at 18 months.

Perhaps I should clarify. When I say I couldn't find anyone, what I mean is, I couldn't find anyone suitable. Anyone I would actually choose to leave my son(s) with. There are people out there. I was telling my running buddy about the possible candidates and she laughed and told me they sounded like bad dating stories. I agreed. Although, I think it's more like a mommy version of the Dating Game. Remember that show? Who would you pick...?

Daycare-orette #1: The Scientologist
To be perfectly fair, I don't know for certain that she is actually a Scientologist. She had a bookshelf in her living room displaying all of Hubbard's Scientology texts, though. And those were the only books on the shelf. Maybe she just wanted a little light reading..? Who knows. I was just having a hard time not staring at the ridiculously awful portrait of her and her husband directly behind her head. It was painted all in shades of mud brown, and was not at all flattering. They looked like evil, leering cartoons. It was distracting. When I reviewed a copy of her contract, she had a "damages" clause in it stating: I expect your children to respect my property. If your child damages my personal property, the parent will be expected to pay for the damage. Those may not be the exact words, but they were pretty close. Of course I would pay for any damages caused by Little G. But it begs the question - if you run a home daycare with 6 children all under two years of age, why are there breakable things lying around? Is she deliberately placing things in harm's way to make a few extra bucks? Other than that, I don't think she interacted with Little G even once during our interview.

Daycare-orette #2: Crazy Potato Lady
This lady seemed very nice and got right down on the floor with Little G. Promising. She only ever has three kids total. Good. She never goes outside in the winter. Ever. I gently asked why and she said, "Well, what would I do if it started to snow?" She looked alarmed. When I asked about food, she said she serves potatoes, rice and pasta. No mention of vegetable or fruit. But she told me that she puts homemade chicken soup into all her food, on her doctor's recommendation. Her doctor said that chicken soup ensures that kid's don't get sick. And she told me that her son has never been sick. (Perhaps because he's never set foot outside.) She was also very proud that her two-year-old son was very adept with Nintendo. Plays it all the time! Oh, and she lives on the second floor of a house and her outdoor play space for the kids is the balcony. In the summer, she just leaves the door open and the kids can play outside or inside at will. (Am I the only one who has a problem with this?). Failing that, she charges $30 more a day than any other home care that I've looked at.

Daycare-orette #3 - Lovely Full House Woman
So far our most promising option. She seems articulate, and motherly and patient. They eat nutritious, home-cooked meals! They go outside! She's a little more free-wheeling about sleep than I would like, but with a house full of kids, you have to be. We just met with her the other day, the trouble is, she is not sure that she actually has a full-time spot for Little G. She is waiting to hear back from another charge who supposedly needed more days. She offered to watch him anyways, till we could find a more permanent situation. That was very nice and I was shocked that she would be so generous. I'm not sure that I would want Little G there if she doesn't actually have the space for him. One person can only look after so many. We hope to hear from her today.


We also have a line on a supposedly incredible nanny who is travelling in Europe right now, and next to impossible to contact. So although she would be our first choice, we don't know when she's back and if we can actually afford her (Nannies in our area cost more a month than I actually make. Boo.)

Who knew the search for the perfect person could be so exhausting??

No one talks to the..

Worth a Thousand Words?

The only thing I can think of to do when words escape me...

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Welcome Christmas, Bring Your Light

I've wanted to put up holiday lights ever since...well...ever since we bought a house. I think it makes a dark and dreary winter so much more festive. But, you see, I'm far too cheap (uh, "environmentally responsible") to spend the money to power said lights. Anyone else with me on this?? I mean, our bills in the winter are astronomical enough without adding lights into it.

So, you can imagine my excitement when Canadian Tire approached me with an offer to decorate our house for the holidays! Doubly excited too, because I am not a high-profile blogger or anything. Anyways, I looked through their catalogue and what to my amazement did I find but: solar-powered lights! [Cue Heavenly Music] What could be more perfect for the lowly blogger who is environmentally responsible??

I have a bit of a snowflake fetish, and I found these really lovely lawn stakes. They change colour every few seconds, and Big C is just mesmerized by them. He was so excited to have some "beautiful lights" on his house at last. (We've been admiring the displays of others on our walk home from daycare.) All the trouble of putting them up in a snowstorm was worth it to see the look on his face.

We also have strings of solar-powered lights in our cedars, but the only pictures that turned out decently on our crappy camera were the snowflakes. Behold! (These pictures do not do them justice.)

Our house, and the environment, are smiling. Good times.