I really, desperately wanted to love the new Ghostbusters.
Like so many others though, I groaned when we heard they were doing some sort of remake with women. I had no idea who they were casting. I didn't really want to know. I didn't understand why a remake was necessary, because the original was... perfection.
Ghostbusters was a monumental part of my childhood. If I recall correctly, my dad took my brother and I to see it at the Mann Valley Theaters in Tarzana, when my mother was in the hospital recovering from major surgery. It was a great distraction and it has since been one of my favorite movies of all time.
Anyway, I was casually watching TV - barely paying attention to what was on, because Gypsy is the world's biggest distraction - and there it was: The trailer for the new female reincarnation (more or less) of Ghostbusters. I saw the faces of many comedians I love... and for one brief second, I was intrigued and even had a glimmer of hope that the remake might not be a hacky, horrible, let's-just-do-this-because-well...WOMEN... type-of-deal.
Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, my hope was dashed.
If their best material was featured in the trailer, (and it usually is), it just wasn't anything special. The jokes were obvious, a lot of what was referenced was just regurgitated/rehashed by women and only slightly updated, and there just wasn't that energy that was practically tangible in the original.
When Chris Rock called into question why men and women still have separate best actor/actress categories at this year's Oscars, I couldn't have agreed more. Why on earth are we still separating men and women when it comes to acting chops? This seems arcane and inappropriate. Yes, I am aware of the ever-present pay-gap between men and women - but it is the continued separation of men and women in instances like the Oscars that help perpetuate this unfortunate reality.
It all the more highlights my point here too. As fantastically funny and wonderful as all of the comedians in the revamped Ghostbusters are, the trailer made it pretty clear that they are nowhere near as good as their predecessors, which I can attribute to two things: Freak-of-nature talent like Bill Murray's which you really can't compete with - and MUCH BETTER WRITING. Wouldn't have mattered what private parts these new Ghostbusters had - they were doomed from the get-go.
But that's okay! It's okay to say something isn't as good as the original. It's okay to say these comedians weren't as brilliant as the first set who inhabited these roles, because they're ALL COMEDIANS. If we hold everyone up to the same exact standards, perhaps people will judge based exclusively on talent and merit and NOT on gender, race and other should-be-irrelevant-by-now nonsense.
Is this pie-in-the-sky thinking? Perhaps... but it's what I desperately want to change so that Gypsy never has to give one unnecessary second of thought to this crap.
So I read this article recently - and I had a pretty strong reaction to this section:
"Here's what I think is going on: this whole "having it all" business has been grossly misinterpreted by our society at large. The purpose of all that bra burning back in the '60s was to give women choices."
"Here's what we tell women today: You not only can, but should have a career and children -- because if you don't, you're basically a) lazy, b) weak, c) not a real woman. But also, you should do it without any support. Without government-paid maternity leave (what are you, a socialist?). Without too much childcare (because then you're a shitty mom) or falling behind on the job (because then you're a shitty employee -- typical woman!). Without too much help from your husband (because then he's a pussy)."
We applaud companies for paying for female employees to freeze their eggs, but don't push them to give women the space to have children during their actual child-bearing years and come back to work without losing their place in line. Instead of changing the systems, we tell women to lean in. Because of course, it's our fault for not taking initiative. Fuck you. I'm leaning so far in I'm falling flat on my face.
I do think, though, that we should cut it out with the fairy tales already. Stop telling women they can have everything without sacrificing anything. Here's the truth: You want to have a career and kids? You totally can, but both will suffer. You will never feel like you are devoting enough time to either. You will never feel like you are good enough at either. You will never get time off (at least for the first several years). You will always be choosing between things that need your attention, and you will almost never choose yourself. You will be judged for nearly every move you make and you will never measure up to anyone else's expectations.
Okay - here is where I really beg to differ. First and foremost, it is challenging to generalize about what "having everything" means. Having it all for me may not be even slightly similar to what it is for you - and that's fine because we're all different people, people! That said, assuming there is a baseline here for having it all, (a happy marriage or relationship, children and a successful career), then we can work with that - and for me, personally, this is where I really deviate from the author's perspective.
I am back at work - full-throttle in fact, and I'm loving it. Personally, I have discovered that I need both things - a career and a family - and that doing both feels totally right. The author of this piece claims that your career and kids will suffer if you attempt to do both.
I vehemently disagree and I think the implications behind that sentiment are actually dangerous. To me, this tells employers that they should avoid hiring women in their childbearing years because if they have a child, they will potentially take a lot of time off and/or fail to deliver the goods in terms of quality work when they return - and to boot, they'll constantly be frustrated because they can't strike a balance between work and parenting. This woman is saying that we can't 'do' it all - vs. having it all - and there's a difference.
We can do it all, if we want and/or choose to. In fact, I think we can do virtually anything we set our minds to, but of course, you need to decide for yourself what works and what doesn't.
My point here is that I am working full-time and parenting now - and I don't feel either is suffering. In fact, I think my child will eventually benefit from having a female role model who is driven and more motivated now than ever to succeed in the workforce. In the meantime, I feel as though I do have enough time with her and I don't feel she is suffering in any way, shape or form. Pretty sure my work isn't suffering either - in fact - I think becoming a parent has re-lit the fire under my ass to constantly strive to do better - because I want to set an example for my daughter.
This was really the main point in the piece I took umbrage with. I agree with a lot of her other points... that social norms need to change... it's okay to opt out of having kids, opt out of working with kids... etc. etc. etc. But the part about work and children suffering if you opt to do both? That I can't support. She might feel that way - and if that is the case, I feel for her - but by saying to everyone else that will be the case for them too - she's ultimately making matters worse for any woman thinking of doing both - parenting and careering. Not okay.
I think she examined her own personal experience - realized that diving right back into work mere seconds after having a child might not have been the best move - and is more or less projecting that onto other working parents. Sadly though, I think that sends precisely the opposite message of what she'd like to send.
*Sigh*
But here's a cute video of the ever-adorable Gypsy, enjoying a single word... "Yum."
Seriously, I cannot emphasize enough how ecstatically happy I am that we decided to 'kid.'
This little girl has brought so much joy into our lives that I sometimes feel like I am going to burst. I am well-aware that we are not the first parents to say this - and I'm certain that we won't be the last.
All of those reservations I had? The ones about finances, my already too-large chest, struggles with weight and selfishness in general? WAY out the fucking window. Now we, (both John and I) ask ourselves how we ever even hesitated. Hindsight's 20/20 kids.
That said, the hesitation really isn't all that surprising when you think about it. You simply don't know how you're going to feel until you dive in - and once you do, there's no turning back - which is why I think it is such a scary prospect... at least for some of us. There's always the chance you'll regret it. I've read a handful of stories about women who do, which is truly tragic. I can't even imagine what a horrible feeling that must be - and I feel for those women. What must it be like to feel as if you made a huge mistake - one you cannot undo?
Fortunately, neither of us can even begin to fathom that. Gypsy's smile - and now her infectious laugh... they're like crack. We cannot get enough.
I just can't imagine my life without her anymore. Life pre-Gypsy seems a bit empty now. Sharing my 39th birthday with her was the best gift ever. She's the best gift ever. I'm sorry I'm gushing - but I can't help it.
Can you blame me?
I mean Jesus. Look at this ridiculous face - with the squishiest, rosiest, cutest most kissable cheeks ever.
She is already inspiring me to be better... to do better on so many levels - as a wife, as a working mom - as someone who can hopefully guide her to lead an extraordinary life filled with her own joys and triumphs, tears and laughter, adventures and misadventures. I can't wait to see what this little one gets into.
Oh, Anna. When you were diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure, the world around me came to a standstill. How could this vivacious, carefree, happy little pup who was always a ray of sunshine have heart failure at only 7 years old? And what did it mean? How long would we have with you? Weeks? Months? Could we even hope for another year?
It was awful. I was hysterical on the walk home - a short jaunt from the vet's office to our apartment, but it felt like a million miles.
I had to stop crying. You didn't even know anything was the matter. All you had was a cough - a cough that just didn't go away. You didn't even seem to notice - and so we knew we had to get ourselves together and just continue to enjoy every single minute with you - even though we had no idea how many more you'd have. You were a fighter, even when things got really bad towards the end. You'd still wake up every single day acting just as excited about it being a whole new day as you did the day before - and you brought so much joy with you. You'd get exhausted after a few minutes of barking, running around, kissing Gypsy and just being you - but you loved those minutes, which it was why it was so impossibly hard for us to let you go.
You taught us how to live. "Be as the pup," we'd say, whenever we fell on hard times. Whenever things were looking dark, you would lift us up and we would model virtually everything after your joy and enthusiasm.
You were remarkable. You were the happiest, sweetest, most inspiring pup ever.
You brought renewed life to Otto, our other loving and sweet but very neurotic pup we'd had for a handful of years before you. I am still convinced that you kept him young beyond what would've been considered 'normal.'
We would walk you down the street, and people would smile just seeing your face. Many would laugh out loud. Your exuberance was infectious and we adored you.
When I found out I was pregnant, a mere five days later, Otto got sick. Super sick. After your diagnosis, we thought he might outlive you. His passing was a total surprise and was completely devastating - but we knew he lived a pretty good, long and love-filled, joy-filled life - in large part thanks to you.
And you kept living with such joy - despite having a serious heart condition and without your Otto. Ultimately, we forgot anything was even that wrong with you.
During my pregnancy you took care of me. You always sensed when I was stressed or tired or just needed some extra love. You helped me incubate Gypsy more or less, sleeping on my tummy every day. You seemed to really love that.
Your daddy didn't tell me, but my stay in the hospital when it was time for Gypsy to join us was a sign of things to come. You were stressed and you weren't doing well. We were a family divided when I was away for those 5 days. Daddy got sick too. He didn't tell me your heart condition was worsening because he was trying to protect me and your little people pup sister. When we came home, you were doing much better. Things were fairly normal - and you quickly took to our newest family member, showering her with kisses. We let you, despite fears of her immune system not being entirely ready to handle puppy love. We couldn't help it. How could we deprive you of that joy?
Nearly four months passed and you were a champ. You constantly showered Gypsy with love - and you made us so proud little Anna. It became clear over the past few weeks though - that the meds just weren't cutting it anymore. One-and-a-half years after your initial diagnosis, you were clearly struggling - but even still, your nature, (determined, happy and loving), didn't want to give in. You kept fighting, but your daddy and I knew we couldn't let you suffer. We knew it was time, so we decided to increase your meds and spoil you rotten for a week - giving you a massive onslaught of love, cuddles and the best food we could think of giving you, (filet mignon, bacon, ice cream and peanut butter). We tried to shower you with love - and we hope that you felt it. We tried to keep smiling despite knowing what we had to do. We tried to be as strong for you as you always were for us.
Anna Banana, Anna Belle, Crazy Munchface - you are and will be forever missed, but you will always have a place in our hearts and you will never, ever be forgotten.
So I recently took Gypsy in for her 3 month well visit - (she's now 14 pushing 15 weeks old believe it or not) - and of course, I was beaming because I, like so many other parents, already believe our child is gifted, special and beyond compare. (Cutest, smartest, bestest, etc.).
And to us, she is.
But I had one of what I am certain are fairly common moments among parents when that wind is completely taken out of your sails:
Me: She totally wants to stand up already like a big girl. She loves standing - despite not being able to do it or even crawl yet. And she's laughing out loud already too.
Pediatrician: "Oh yeah - that's completely typical for three months."
Me: Silent, but thinking - Hey... don't call my daughter typical - She is extraordinary... magical... totally unique!
That said, she's still in the 83rd percentile for head circumference, so there's that.
It was decided long before Gypsy was born that I wouldn't be taking a long maternity leave, (unaffordable, not super-feasible with my gig and didn't really seem like something I'd want to do anyway). And so, I took three weeks off following Gypsy's birth. Not surprisingly, they FLEW by. Once they were over, I was actually feeling fairly ready to dive back into work life - but was thrilled to be permitted to work from home for a bit because C-sections are a bitch to recover from - and I wasn't really mentally ready to let Gypsy out of my sight. She still didn't even seem real.
I was very happy to be doing something other than sitting in my apartment on the couch watching television and it helps that I really like my job. Also... newborns sleep a lot - and while I love staring at Gypsy sleeping, there's only so much of this you can do in a day. Oh - and there's the fact that my apartment has become a claustrophobic clusterfuck of baby things. Anyway - work helped me get back into a groove - a routine, a semi-semblance of normalcy. It was good all-around... until it wasn't.
After about a month or so of spending my days on the couch with a laptop a puppy and a baby, I realized I was starting to go a bit stir-crazy in my pad and that I had more than taken advantage of my bosses' accommodations with respect to working from home for a bit. I also noticed that I couldn't stand the lack of social engagement on a day-to-day basis. It was abundantly clear to me at that point:
I am not a stay-at-home mom.
And so, I made a plan to get back into the office and I put it in writing. I didn't really articulate this as intelligently as I should've to my bosses in hindsight - but now I know why:
I was totally scared of going back to the office and leaving Gypsy behind. The thought of being away from her on a regular basis terrified me, despite knowing she'd be in phenomenal hands - her daddy's.
It wasn't a lack of trust - in fact it had nothing to do with John. I've already seen that he's my equal when it comes to parenting. It was straight-up separation anxiety. I had grown so used to being with Gypsy almost 24/7 that a change was really fucking scary, especially because I am so ridiculously in love with her that I can hardly handle it.
But I did it. I went back to the office - and you know what? It felt really, really good. I even loved my commute again! Being on the subway, (and not driving) listening to music and people watching is kind-of awesome. So is setting foot into Manhattan - the busiest, loudest most interesting city in New York. It just felt right. Don't get me wrong - I missed Gypsy like crazy and obsessively texted, emailed and called my husband to make sure she was okay for the first few days, but I was able to enjoy being back in my office.
Apparently, I just had to get my feet wet with the whole 'leaving baby behind thing.'
What I realize now is that I am not and will never be a good stay-at-home mom. There are those that are built for it - but I'm just not. I need work. I need to leave the house. I need social interaction with other adults and I need a change of scenery. I am restless, I am curious and I am driven - and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.
In fact, I think I might be setting a good example for my daughter, even though she's not aware of it yet.
Plus... it helps to have a husband who LOVES the idea of being a stay-at-home dad.
As anyone reading this blog regularly knows, our little Gypsy hasn't been a great sleeper and has basically insisted on sleeping on us the vast majority of the time. We have accommodated her and I even trained myself to sleep on my back on the COUCH in order to do so - but I know this is NOT smart for a multitude of reasons. Namely:
Anything can happen when you're sleeping and I can't be entirely sure she's protected. She could shift her position and wind up smothering herself. We all know this would be very, very bad. I don't need to go into great detail.
I don't sleep well this way. In fact, I'm not entirely convinced I do any real sleeping at all this way. No sleep = crankypants.
It isn't good for her. I mean come on - she's got to learn to sleep like a normal person at some point. At first we resorted to a swing - a lovely rock n' play that everyone raves about. It worked - kind-of... in that she'd sleep in it for short stints, (maybe an hour - two if we were really lucky), then wake up and demand the chest again. Again, not good for her and not that great for us either.
My husband and I hadn't slept in the same bed for three months. THREE MONTHS. We slept in shifts. One of us was always on the couch with her and the other in bed. After a while, I realized it was easier for me to just stay on the couch most of the night. My left shoulder started hurting... a lot. It sucked. Again, no bueno.
After three months of this nonsense, we realized something had to give.
At her two-month well visit, our pediatrician told us to begin sleep training. We looked at her like she had just asked us to sacrifice our baby to the devil. No way! Too young. I asked my Facebook friends what to do and got a mixed bag of responses. Many condoned sleep training. Others didn't. It was totally helpful and totally not because at the end of the day - I realized we had to do what was right for us and our daughter - because when you're a parent - you have to turn off the noise of everyone else's opinions and make your own.
That isn't to say the info I received wasn't helpful. It TOTALLY was. In fact, I did a ton of reading based on those recommendations and everyone else's experiences and ultimately, it helped me come to a conclusion with my husband one full month later:
It was time to sleep train this little girl.
And so we started. In fact, I believe we've now been on this quest for 9 days. Today will be day 10.
Good thing too, because we started about a few days shy of her three-month "birthday" and had just received an email from our pediatrician warning us about the failure to sleep train by three months. It was incredibly, incredibly ominous. Honestly, it sent a shiver down my spine.
Ultimately, we went with some type of sleep training that isn't quite as harsh, (I guess), which was more or less the Ferberization method.
Don't get me wrong - this method is still no picnic. You put your baby in the crib after a bedtime routine - and walk away - letting him/her cry it out for small increments at first - and gradually increasing over the next handful of days. You can go in and comfort your little one during those 5, 10, 15 min. increments but cannot take them out of the crib. As any mother will tell you - this goes against every cell of your being. Your instincts and hormones are BEGGING you to free your child from the confines of its baby jail. BEGGING. It is torture.
Anyway, I quickly realized that the so-called 'comforting' your baby didn't do much in the way of comforting - at least not with ours. Sometimes, it would make her cry louder and really dish out some of those desperate cries - the ones that brought me to tears. After about 3 or 4 days - we decided to truly let her just... cry it out.
And it worked! Each day, the crying lessened in both intensity and duration to the point where she would barely cry on-and-off for a little while each night. Then she regressed and had a really bad night of almost non-stop crying for two hours. I texted a smart girlfriend about it. She offered sage advice and told me to stick with it. I did - and cried with my daughter - but in the next room where she couldn't see or hear me. After a week + of this, I wasn't giving up. Last night was a huge improvement again. Not only is she not crying that much - but she's now regularly napping in her crib too - without much of a fuss. In fact, there was only a brief 10 minute crying fuss fest last night when we put her to bed - and then she slept pretty consistently until 3:00 a.m. - when she woke up for a feeding. Then she went right back to sleep - in her crib - without any fussing whatsoever. And then she did that again at 6:00 - slept pretty soundly until around 10 a.m.
It was AMAZING.
So, I guess this opens me up to all kinds of criticism for being a heartless parent - for ignoring the needs of my child and putting my own needs first. Well, trust me when I tell you naysayers - Gypsy is sleeping better, is noticeably even happier, much more active and playful and we are MUCH better parents, because we are SLEEPING. Sleep is precious. I have never been a fan of it, until it was pretty much taken away from me for nearly three months. Now I have a brand new appreciation for it entirely.
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