Confessions of a Juggler

I loved this article by Tina Fey in the New Yorker. Of course, if you don't subscribe to the New Yorker, you'll just get the abstract, but it's enough to get the feel of the article. (And for just how wickedly funny she is.) I subscribe to the New Yorker, but as a constant juggler (and constant "hurrier"), I left mine on a bus. (This problem, at least, will presumably go away once I get my Nook Color. Although I suspect I'll forget to charge it and will be left with a 1 pound brick in my bag.) Luckily, Melissa Silverstein pointed out the article in her blog, Women & Hollywood. And because I am a subscriber (missing magazine notwithstanding), I was able to create an account and read the digital form for free.

It's refreshing to see someone in Hollywood talk about the realities of combining career and motherhood. It does have an impact. I remember the conversations about motherhood going around when I was in my 20's - when to have kids - better to have them while you're young at the beginning of your career? Or wait until you're well established and have more power to call the shots? None of it is easy. I came to filmmaking late (meaning I didn't start in utero, like a lot of indie filmmakers these days.) I waited years to make my first short. Then I had kids. It kind of put a damper on my ability to work production jobs, where a 12-hour-day is considered short. And working production is how you meet people that you want to work with. Still, I would do it again. I have a lot of friends in the indie world who are single, unattached and live for filming. I chose to have a family. It makes doing anything harder and everything takes longer, but it makes everything worth doing in the first place.

New Year's Resolutions

I'm stealing my resolution this year from Ela Thier, another first-time female filmmaker whom I admire. I can't wait to see her film, "Foreign Letters."

"My New Year's resolution is to be exactly who I've been and do exactly what I've been doing."

Well, okay, there is one thing I'll resolve to try: to lose the moniker that my kids have given me - "Mount Cranky."

And to finish my film, "In Montauk."

So that's two things. But of course, these are things I've been doing all along. So do they count?

Cooking and Editing

I haven't been the main cook in my family since my husband took over that job over 10 years ago when he determined that my repertoire wasn't big enough for his gourmet tastes. Even after kids, he did the shopping and most of the cooking, preparing meals that can be reheated quickly. Turns out that his repertoire of kid-friendly foods isn't big enough for them. So, I've gone back to the kitchen for all of us. Causing me to re-juggle my time once again. I have a sense of what the kids will like and am usually successful when I try something new for them. My husband has thinner skin and gets discouraged after one rejection.

In addition to my added kitchen duties, I'm editing my own feature film and overseeing the edit of a short film that was begun two and a half years ago and only recently finished filming. Each time I serve up a new edit to a test audience in hopes of being finished, I find that the mix isn't quite right. It doesn't quite speak to them, they can't relate, or they are bored. And those are some of the nicer comments. Each time, I lick my wounds and go back and try again. I can only hope that like with the meals I serve to my kids, I will figure out what will appeal to my audience and get to that final cut. If not, like with my meals, I will go back in and try again.

And if you're in the market for good 30-minute recipes that are kid and adult-friendly, I recommend The Best 30-Minute Recipe from Cook's Illustrated. It's become my food bible.

The week from Hell

Sometimes the universe conspires to tell me that not only can I not do it all, but sometimes I need to do nothing. At least that's how I chose to look at my last week's experiences which included 2 (minor) car accidents.

I should start with my agenda for the week. My husband was going out of town for a week, so I, in my infinite wisdom, did not make any allowances in my schedule for the extra work this would cause me. On the home-front, my duties included shopping for the week, making three healthy meals a day for me and the kids, doing the laundry, getting the kids to and from school and driving them to their after-school activities three of those days, homework supervision, bath supervision and reading to them before bed. On the film/professional front, my agenda included finishing fine-tuning the edit for the 2nd 40 minutes of my film, "In Montauk", supervising the edit of a short film I directed, reading and evaluating about 20 grants for a panel I'm on. Not much, right?

Sunday and Monday went along fine. I did shopping, laundry, got Celine to her ballet rehearsal (mostly) on time despite the space being right on the route for the New York City Marathon. I edited. I started on the grant applications. Tuesday it started to fall apart. Noah got sick. I wasn't feeling that great. Still, I managed to get a little work done, while still not totally neglecting Noah. Wednesday it all went to hell in a hand-basket. I got into a minor fender-bender on the way into the city to see how the edit was coming for "That's What She Told Me." Partially because I was distracted and tired and sick and wondering how I was going to do it all. Obviously, I wasn't. By Thursday, I felt so awful, I wasn't sure I could get out of bed. But get out of bed, I did, then drove the kids to school, took my car to the body shop (where I know them by name), got a rental car and then promptly passed out at home until I left to pick up the kids. Friday I still felt like I had the flu, called my doctor and begged for a prescription for what had turned into a major sinus infection without having to go in. The house was a mess. Michael was coming home. The sink was full of dishes. Did I really want him to come home to a house that looked like a tornado and a hurricane had simultaneously demolished our living space? Plus, despite wanting him to feel guilty about leaving me to such a terrible week, I didn't want him to think that I couldn't handle it. So, in the hour before he came home, I roused myself and attacked the house like a whirling dervish until it was clean (enough). He came home and I breathed a sigh of relief. But, a day too soon as it turns out.

My big plan for Saturday was to make a dent in all the work I still needed to do while the kids were at an all day birthday party. I was medicated, feeling better and ready to face the world. Maybe Michael and I could sneak away to a romantic lunch. Alas, it was not meant to be. On the way home from dropping the kids off at their party, we were side-swiped by a giant truck while sitting at a light. I'm not sure where he thought he was going, considering that the lane he was moving into had oncoming traffic which included a NYC bus. Two hours later, the phone number to call for a police report number in hand, we went on a romantic shopping excursion to Trader Joe's. Then tea. Then picked up the kids. When the truck first hit us, I burst into tears, thinking, "It's all too much." And it was. But from the distance of a day later, I think it's really another wake-up call to slow down a little, don't try to do everything at once and do what Michael does whenever I go out of town for a week to work on a shoot - take the week off.