Special Relativity

a few minutes back… Ms: I’m already making plans for Critter’s … oh, I guess third Christmas. Because she’ll be old enough to understand some things but not really know what’s going on. Mr: Oh? Ms: Yeah, like put Elf on a Shelf around the house in awful positions. Mr: Like butt fuckin’ Mensch on a Bench! Ms: Exactly! Or sitting in the corner of the litter box with little peppermints scattered around! A few minutes before that… Ms: Yeah nobody’s not going to know I’m pregnant wearing this! Mr: Just tell them you have adult onset spina bifida. Ms: What? No! analysis and conclusion We are horrible people who will destroy our child, but I am apparently that much more horrible. *kermit...

Hold On and Let Go

When I was growing up, I frequently heard my mother says, “I forgave __________ during my first pregnancy,” “ I got over _____________ during my second pregnancy.” The people in question were often those that had done her wrong in the past (Edie Morrison for stealing Mom’s boyfriend, Bruce Rodgers, her senior year of high school, etc.). Over the years, I have assumed that pregnancy must be a time of great perspective and reflection. I saw gestation as a time when the enormity of the biology at hand causes other things to be trivial and meaningless. Thus, I have been going through this First Trimester and seeing if there are things I need to “forgive” or “let go.”  I would think that I would have a few more things to “release” compared to my mother. After all, she was married at 23, had me at 27 and followed up with my brother when she was 32. When I was 23, I was a bartender at Hooters in Santa Monica. When I was 27, I was newly married and performing nightly at The Second City. When I was 32, I was divorced, living in Tampa, going through a health crisis, and dating an actor. So you know, there should be all sorts of baggage in that time.  Lots of stuff I need to let go, and move on from, and realize that my life is taking on greater importance. Yet there really isn’t.  There were a lot of things that I held on to for a very long time. Not making it as an actor in LA was tough, but I got over it. The crappy way my ex-husband decided to turn-tail and haul-ass was the topic of a couple of years of therapy, but I now regard him with the same distain as stepping in dog shit – a disgusting inconvenience that was ultimately scraped off all at once leaving some annoying bits in the tread. I don’t really have anything I need to get rid of or let go of or any of that stuff. In fact, if I had to take a serious look at my life and try to pinpoint when I unloaded a lot of excess baggage, it was probably right before I started dating Mr. Forty. Huh. My therapist would be so proud. Perhaps in my state of “I’m really good with myself and my relationships and my past,” I got a little overzealous with goodwill towards others. Case in point – One of my exes. With the exception of the poo on my shoe that some might call my previous marriage, I have a pretty good relationship with guys I’ve dated.  The relationship before Mr. Forty didn’t end well, but some people have to have a scorched earth policy to keep their street cred of being tortured and miserable – so I respect that and keep my distance. Most of my other exes are absolute peaches and I’d set them up with anybody. In fact, one of my exes was one of the first to know about Critter.  I’m dying to tell another, because I know he’ll be thrilled (and make an excellent uncle – which was always the extent of his parenting aspirations).  And then there’s my Beautiful Disaster. The Beautiful Disaster and I had a few really good years together – really good.  We even attempting living together, which lasted exactly the course of the lease.  I adore this man. He...