Photo Essay: Bipolar Baby

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

I've been a little slow with posting lately because I've actually been writing. I know, I know, who could believe it? So, what have I been up to?

Well, I mentioned our sitcom earlier this month. We finally finished the rewrite of the outline incorporating our first set of notes and it's much, much better. We're really happy with it. Now, we just wait to see what the production company thinks.

It'll probably go something like this. "We like it, we just have some minor notes." Three more weeks of rewriting. "Much better, just a few more minor notes." Three more weeks of rewriting. "Perfect, let's get the pilot written." Three weeks of writing. "We like it, we just have some minor notes." Rinse, repeat.

All this to find out the network doesn't like it or they like it, only they've decided to fire us and bring on a new showrunner. Eh, that's Hollywood.

In the meantime, we also finished an outline for our new feature that we're set to start pitching later this month or next. We're really happy with it as well. At least until we get notes back from our manager.

Then, we suddenly realize what crappy writers we are.

Actually, our rep's notes are always really valid - we just don't want to hear them at first. When you turn something in, you always want to hear that it's brilliant and perfect and you're incredibly funny. So notes tend to be disheartening.

It takes a day or two to let them sink in before you realize that they're pretty right on. Even if we don't agree with the individual note, it tends to point out something that's lacking somewhere in the work that, once fixed, makes everyone happy.

So we sit and wait for the latest feedback.

This time I'm sure it'll be that the outline is brilliant and perfect and we're incredibly funny....

Comments

Since I still know nothing about blogs, it was pointed out to me that I had restricted comments on here. I've now changed the setting, so everyone can comment. Sorry about that, but I'm still learning. Now I expect every one of you who visits to leave a comment ;-)!

I Know Nothing

I've noticed that my posts tend to be very short compared to ones on other blogs. I guess it comes from my background in sketch comedy. There's never been a sketch that couldn't be funnier if it were shorter - see Saturday Night Live for proof.

But I think this post is going to end up a lot longer becuase it's about what I've learned that I don't know. And that could fill a book.

It's funny that having a baby will make you realize you are sorely lacking in several categories. And I'm not talking about the "Oh, my baby has helped me see the magic in everyday things" variety.

As amazing and smart as I'm sure Baby Girl is, she isn't exactly stopping to appreciate the beauty around her yet. Nope, at this age, the only thing Baby Girl seems to "appreciate the beauty" in are our curtains and the discovery that those hands are attached to her and can almost fit totally in her mouth.

And the only thing that has taught me is that our curtains really need to be washed and that I hope the saying "cold hands, warm heart" is true because having those freezing cold, wet, clammy hands clutching at my boobs is not that fun.

What I'm talking about not knowing are the things I never realized I would need to know when I had a baby. Oh sure, I took those infant care classes and I read all the books so I knew how to bathe her, change her, dress her, swaddle her, blah, blah, blah.

What they neglected to teach me? How to entertain her!

That's right, there are hours to fill with activities for Baby Girl, who hasn't yet figured out how to play with toys and is only happy when her mom is performing for her. To entertain a baby, you find out that you better turn into a goofball with facial expressions to rival Jim Carrey.

You suddenly realize that you don't know more than two sentences of any song. And the one you DO know? Rock A Bye Baby? You'll realize in the middle of singing it that you're about to send the baby hurtling to a horrible death.

I've resorted to singing Row, Row, Row Your Boat over and over and Baby Girl never holds up her end of the round.

So you go out and buy a book of nursery rhymes and stories. Let's start with Henny Penny. Remember Henny Penny? She thinks the sky is falling. Well, that story ends with the deaths of every single one of the characters we have come to know and love - Henny Penny, Goosey Loosey and Ducky Lucky - a misnomer if there ever was one.

I had a discussion with some friends the other night and we realized that almost every childhood story we could remember involved a horrible death of some kind - often killing our hero, especially fairy tales. What's up with that?

There needs to be a book that they give you when your baby is born - Infants for Dummies, Entertaining from 0-3 Months. Forget information about changing a diaper - this book would have suggestions for silly faces to make during those diaper changes, how to sing the ABC song in different accents, the words to Wheels on the Bus and other ridiculously repetitive children's songs, stories that don't involve bloody deaths, etc.

Even without that though, I'm slowly figuring it out and at least Baby Girl thinks I'm the funniest thing she's ever seen. Well, except for her dad when he does his Barney Fife impression.

I'm enjoying it immensely because I know in 13 years, she's not going to find me funny AT ALL! Sort of like Saturday Night Live*. How's that for a callback?


*Although I do think that this season is slowly turning around thanks to some really funny new cast members like Kristen Wiig and Andy Samberg.

Random Thought of the Day

Boniva is a terrible name for a drug that doesn't give you an erection.

Scrapguilting

I consider myself a creative person. At least, I used to. I mean, I'm supposed to be creative for a living. So why is one simple project making me suicidal?

You see, now that I'm a mom, I decided that I should create a memento of my child's life. Yes, god help me, I'm trying to make a scrapbook.

It started off so promisingly. Go to Michaels (a place that has always given me the heebie jeebies), pick up some supplies and create a masterpiece.

After nearly 2 hours torturing myself at Michaels last weekend (I only managed to get out of there because my mother-in-law helped me pick things out), I am now sitting on my couch, surrounded by scrapbooking crap - the scrapbook itself, cute little premade sayings like "Special Delivery," and fun little cutouts of duckies and other baby stuff.


Now what the hell do I do?

I mean, seriously. I don't know how to get started. I don't think these projects are made for Libras. I have a hard enough time deciding what to eat for dinner. Now, I'm faced with hundreds of decisions at once.

First, I have to pick a color of paper to put on each page. To make it worse, the paper's reversible! Now I have to decide which SIDE of the paper to pick.

After that, what photos go on each page? Do I frame them or not? What cute little sayings or stickers do I use? What the hell am I supposed to do with the ribbon included with my scrapbook? Do I want to have a title on the page?

To make this all worse, my mother-in-law presented me with a selection of specialty scissors. That's right, people. There are special scrapbooking scissors with different edges. Do I want the picture or paper to have a round edge or a jagged edge? Do I want it wavy round or perm-like round? I have SIX different choices of scissors now.

I look at the sample photos and feel totally overwhelmed. I feel like a terrible mom for wanting to quit already. I mean, this mom obviously found the time to create an album for her kid.


Can I just pay someone to do this for me? If so, will I go to hell if I lie and tell people that I made it myself?

By the way, a Yahoo! search for scrapbooking?

18,200,000 results

I have to go lay down.

Poker Party

Here's how we spend our weekends around here. Baby Girl's not good at hiding her tells yet but we're working on it.

And here's the shirt she's wearing. It cracks me up!

It's a Girl!

I told myself that I would never dress Baby Girl in pink every day. I mean, who needs to enforce arbitrary gender stereotypes? My baby will be able to wear blue any time she wants. So we proudly wore our green, yellow and blue.

And then it started. "Oh, what a handsome boy." "He's so cute. What's his name?" "What a big boy!"

Now I have to start worrying about whether I'm giving the poor kid an identity crisis. I don't bother correcting random strangers, but with people who are going to see her more than once, I feel like I have to say something. And then I have to deal with the rounds of apologies.

"She's a girl." "Oh, I'm sorry." "Well, it's my fault. She is dressed like a boy." "No, I should have known." blah blah blah

So now we're cherishing the joy of pink...

Baby Girl pimpin' her ride!

Yo, yo, yo! This one's for Archer and the rest of my peepz! This is how we style it in the Larchmont hood.

Swing Low, Sweet Savior!

Girls Gone Child lent us her swing last week.
Hallelujiah!
Baby Girl went right to sleep.
Halleluuuu-jiah!

At first, she was a little suspicious of the zebra and what it wanted with her.
















But now it puts her out like a light.


Although I feel a little guilty about it. I mean, look at her. Please tell me I'm not causing her brain damage!

The Ultimate Betrayal

I hurt Baby Girl today. She trusts me implicitly to keep her safe and I let her down. I failed to protect her from harm. I just stood there while she cried harder than I've ever heard her cry, hands balled up into tight fists, face bright red and real tears running from her eyes. Even worse, I knew it was going to happen. In fact, I was a willing participant in the planning and execution of the violation of her tiny body.

Yes, Baby Girl got her first shots today. Four shots, one after the other, as she screamed and I cried. Of course, I realize that these shots will prevent what could be much worse for her in the future - keeping her safe from horrible disease and even more pain. But that didn't help as I held her as she sobbed. I thought my heart would break. I've never felt that kind of pain for another person before and I wish I would never have to feel it again.

Please tell me it gets easier...

Of course, I guess I should count my lucky stars that Baby Girl has been so healthy. My heart goes out to any parent who has to endure this kind of thing on a daily basis. It must be unbelievably hard.