Dear Baby,
When you get out here in the world, people are going to make you angry. I don't want you to be surprised by this, although if you are anything like me you will be horrified and shocked every single time it happens.
Sometimes it will just be because you are in a bad mood. Or sometimes they are. Sometimes it is caused by different cultural or gender or generational expectations. Or a misunderstanding. But sometimes people are just mean, and their meanness will make you very, very angry.
Sometimes you will want to punch them in the head (not usually the best choice unless you enjoy peeing in front of prison guards). Sometimes you will want to cry (go ahead). And sometimes you will want to treat them to a lengthy display of your powers of invective. (This last one is always fun and one of my favorites.) Your grandmother (let's call her Nana, since your cousin Catie already named her that and I don't really like change) likes to break things - pottery, glass, cologne bottles. [Tip: buy a collection of cheap glasses from the dollar store for just such occasions, and always aim for the wall above the open trash can - no cleanup.)
These are all fun, but you may get to the end of them without having exhausted your anger. Or the mean person might be mean all over again the next day. I want you to know that there are endless strategies to employ in dealing with both your anger and their meanness. There's sarcasm and irony, wit, humor, empathy (blech, but sometimes it works), and on and on and on. One of the things that they teach you in acting classes is that if one strategy fails, you must immediately employ another. That is how you get what you want in the end.
Unless the playwright has written a tragedy, and then you are screwed. But I digress.
Employ every strategy you can think of, and then if they are still mean and you are still angry, think of more strategies. Brainstorm. It might end up feeling like a game, which is fun. And you might end up coming up with a good stand-up routine or a best-selling book. Then you can thank the meany for all your success on late night talk shows or in the dedication of your book.
And you can always come home and your dad and I can do a sketch in which we skewer your adversary.
We love you,
Mom
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Dear One
My dear child,
You are eight months from appearing to our eyes. Your father and I - Wait. I just wrote "Your father and I". We will be parents. Your parents. You are making us parents. I think it will take eight months to wrap my head around that. Or maybe eight years. Or the rest of my life.
So, here's an introduction to your parents. (Wow!) I am 35 years old. I'll be 36 when you are born. That might seem old (it does to me) but I waited a long, long time for just the right man to marry. I almost thought I'd never meet him. And then he was nothing like I expected, and yet, everything I need. And when we started dating, I waited a long, long time to make sure that we were making the right decision. I took him that seriously.
Let's see... what else? I have long brown hair and blue eyes and really pale and freckled skin - but you'll see that for yourself soon enough.
I like to live in a beautiful place both inside and out. Right now we live in a fourth floor walk-up apartment that is crammed with so much stuff that we can barely walk around. The walls are dingy and the floors are ugly and we have just started getting some nice furniture. But I promise we are going to work on that. For your mother's sanity if not for your comfort.
I love to sing. So get ready. I sing all of the time. I love it. I love the way it sounds, the way it makes my body vibrate, the way I can feel my soul, the way it connects me to other people and to God. I love songs. And I'm going to sing them to you and teach you to sing them, too. Oh and hey! People pay your mother to sing! No, really!! They do!! I've been getting paid to sing for over ten years now. So my voice must not be that bad. In fact, when I was just a few days pregnant with you, I premiered an opera about rescuing the Jews from the Nazis in Denmark. New Jersey State Opera is interested in it now. So we'll see.
I am an artist. I like bringing beautiful things into the world. I like making people happy that way. I also like telling the truth, but through stories. This is my vocation. That's the work that God means you to do - your calling. You might have a different calling than me, but I promise to respect it, whatever it is, and to help you find your way to following it.
Speaking of God, I believe in him. You'll have to make up your own mind about that one day. In the meantime, I'm going to tell you everything I know about him. I think you'll like him, and I know he loves you. I think that God has brought me and your dad and you together, to make us happy and to make him happy and to make everyone we know happy. That's the kind of work God does. And there's plenty more happiness in store.
I believe in true love. The kind that lasts forever. The kind that never gives up, never lets go, is always on your side. That's the love God has for us. That's the love your parents have for each other. That's the love we have for you. So, when you come into this family, that's what you're in for. Love that never ends. No matter what.
I'm an idealist and injustice really makes me angry. So sometimes I rant and rave, and sometimes I fly off the handle and sometimes that means your dad has to calm me down and talk me into some restraint. But sometimes he just lets me go and yell because he believes I'm right. I used to think I needed to just get used to the way the world is, injustice and all. But now I don't think I need to do that. I think anger is ok sometimes, and that anger at things being wrong is definitely ok. The trick is finding a good way to change things so that they are right without making more things wrong. I'm still trying to figure that part out. We never stop learning. Even when we're 35.
Well, there's plenty more to tell you about me, but there's also plenty of time. So I'll save some stuff for the moths and years to come.
What about your dad?
Well, he's devestatingly handsome. He's 6'2" tall. He has flaming red hair that cascades in curls over his shoulders. He has a dashing goatee. All of that combined makes him look like a medieval king. Or some kind of Norse god. He too has pale freckled skin and light eyes. Get ready for sunburns, kid. And if you are as unfortunate as your parents, some teasing in school. But remember that we've been there, and we have your back.
He's also the kindest man I have ever met outside of my family. He's loyal and stands by his friends. He's honest. He believes in fair play. He has more integrity in his little finger than most people in New York have in their whole being. He's very funny and makes me laugh all of the time. His laugh is great and when he really gets going, I don't even need to know why he's laughing - just his laugh makes me laugh. His eyes crinkle up in this soft, sweet way when he smiles. And he's a great hugger. Oh, you are so lucky to have him for a dad!!
He's got a great voice, too. His voice is booming and low and also high and powerful. You'll feel the walls rattle when he sings and it's thrilling. He's a wonderful actor. When I'm in shows with him, I always try to stand in the wings and watch him work. I learn something from him every time. Oh, and did I mention that he's the Pirate King? Seriously - how cool is that! Your dad is a Pirate King! Aarrrggh!!! You should take him to school for show-and-tell. Totally.
Your dad is an artist, too. And he's really good at what he does. And he should do it for the rest of his life because the world would be a sad, sad place without your father on a stage, thrilling people with his voice, making people laugh and cry. I know he's a little anxious now because it's difficult to make a lot of money as an actor - at least to support a growing family. But I know that we will find a way. I think we would be letting you down most of all if we didn't.
So, that's us. And we can't wait to meet you, our new beautiful thing we are creating together.
Love,
Mom
P.S. You may be wondering why I have entitled this blog "Dear Ones". That's the way my grandparents used to start all of their letters. I never knew how to use the phrase until I started thinking about you.
You are eight months from appearing to our eyes. Your father and I - Wait. I just wrote "Your father and I". We will be parents. Your parents. You are making us parents. I think it will take eight months to wrap my head around that. Or maybe eight years. Or the rest of my life.
So, here's an introduction to your parents. (Wow!) I am 35 years old. I'll be 36 when you are born. That might seem old (it does to me) but I waited a long, long time for just the right man to marry. I almost thought I'd never meet him. And then he was nothing like I expected, and yet, everything I need. And when we started dating, I waited a long, long time to make sure that we were making the right decision. I took him that seriously.
Let's see... what else? I have long brown hair and blue eyes and really pale and freckled skin - but you'll see that for yourself soon enough.
I like to live in a beautiful place both inside and out. Right now we live in a fourth floor walk-up apartment that is crammed with so much stuff that we can barely walk around. The walls are dingy and the floors are ugly and we have just started getting some nice furniture. But I promise we are going to work on that. For your mother's sanity if not for your comfort.
I love to sing. So get ready. I sing all of the time. I love it. I love the way it sounds, the way it makes my body vibrate, the way I can feel my soul, the way it connects me to other people and to God. I love songs. And I'm going to sing them to you and teach you to sing them, too. Oh and hey! People pay your mother to sing! No, really!! They do!! I've been getting paid to sing for over ten years now. So my voice must not be that bad. In fact, when I was just a few days pregnant with you, I premiered an opera about rescuing the Jews from the Nazis in Denmark. New Jersey State Opera is interested in it now. So we'll see.
I am an artist. I like bringing beautiful things into the world. I like making people happy that way. I also like telling the truth, but through stories. This is my vocation. That's the work that God means you to do - your calling. You might have a different calling than me, but I promise to respect it, whatever it is, and to help you find your way to following it.
Speaking of God, I believe in him. You'll have to make up your own mind about that one day. In the meantime, I'm going to tell you everything I know about him. I think you'll like him, and I know he loves you. I think that God has brought me and your dad and you together, to make us happy and to make him happy and to make everyone we know happy. That's the kind of work God does. And there's plenty more happiness in store.
I believe in true love. The kind that lasts forever. The kind that never gives up, never lets go, is always on your side. That's the love God has for us. That's the love your parents have for each other. That's the love we have for you. So, when you come into this family, that's what you're in for. Love that never ends. No matter what.
I'm an idealist and injustice really makes me angry. So sometimes I rant and rave, and sometimes I fly off the handle and sometimes that means your dad has to calm me down and talk me into some restraint. But sometimes he just lets me go and yell because he believes I'm right. I used to think I needed to just get used to the way the world is, injustice and all. But now I don't think I need to do that. I think anger is ok sometimes, and that anger at things being wrong is definitely ok. The trick is finding a good way to change things so that they are right without making more things wrong. I'm still trying to figure that part out. We never stop learning. Even when we're 35.
Well, there's plenty more to tell you about me, but there's also plenty of time. So I'll save some stuff for the moths and years to come.
What about your dad?
Well, he's devestatingly handsome. He's 6'2" tall. He has flaming red hair that cascades in curls over his shoulders. He has a dashing goatee. All of that combined makes him look like a medieval king. Or some kind of Norse god. He too has pale freckled skin and light eyes. Get ready for sunburns, kid. And if you are as unfortunate as your parents, some teasing in school. But remember that we've been there, and we have your back.
He's also the kindest man I have ever met outside of my family. He's loyal and stands by his friends. He's honest. He believes in fair play. He has more integrity in his little finger than most people in New York have in their whole being. He's very funny and makes me laugh all of the time. His laugh is great and when he really gets going, I don't even need to know why he's laughing - just his laugh makes me laugh. His eyes crinkle up in this soft, sweet way when he smiles. And he's a great hugger. Oh, you are so lucky to have him for a dad!!
He's got a great voice, too. His voice is booming and low and also high and powerful. You'll feel the walls rattle when he sings and it's thrilling. He's a wonderful actor. When I'm in shows with him, I always try to stand in the wings and watch him work. I learn something from him every time. Oh, and did I mention that he's the Pirate King? Seriously - how cool is that! Your dad is a Pirate King! Aarrrggh!!! You should take him to school for show-and-tell. Totally.
Your dad is an artist, too. And he's really good at what he does. And he should do it for the rest of his life because the world would be a sad, sad place without your father on a stage, thrilling people with his voice, making people laugh and cry. I know he's a little anxious now because it's difficult to make a lot of money as an actor - at least to support a growing family. But I know that we will find a way. I think we would be letting you down most of all if we didn't.
So, that's us. And we can't wait to meet you, our new beautiful thing we are creating together.
Love,
Mom
P.S. You may be wondering why I have entitled this blog "Dear Ones". That's the way my grandparents used to start all of their letters. I never knew how to use the phrase until I started thinking about you.
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