I Should Have Girded My Loins
One of the movies I am contractually obligated by my vagina to watch whenever it is on is The Devil Wears Prada. And there’s always one scene that makes me clench more than the others: when Andy is forced to go to that stupid benefit for work and is really really RILLY RILLY RILLY late for her boyfriend’s birthday party.
Tangent: does anyone besides me think that Adrian Grenier is fucking ridiculous? He can’t act for shit or open his eyes any wider than one-sixteenth of an inch. Also, he has toddler hair. Still think he’s a hot slice?
Anyway, the reason that scene gets me all agitated is because it gives me that awful, anxious, fidgety, shallow-breathing, floaty-limb feeling I get when I’m somewhere but I really need to be SOMEWHERE ELSE. Oh, I hate that feeling. It usually results in me crying or driving irresponsibly fast, and most certainly results in the cultivation of my inevitable ulcer. I like to call him Ernie.
OMG DO NOT GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH “ULCERS.”
So, I’ve been experiencing this feeling an awful lot lately. At rehearsal.
I truly did not see this coming. I love doing shows. I was so excited for my rehearsals to start. But last week was a tough one, with rehearsals every night and work being a bitch and then getting sick on top of it all. As I sat offstage on Wednesday night, thinking about Brad and Sadie going through the evening routine without me, I suddenly thought to myself, “I made the wrong decision.” And then I spent the next two hours trying not to climb the walls out of anxiety and an overwhelming desire to be at home kissing warm baby noggin.
This past weekend was tech for the show (all you non-nerds out there: tech is when all the technical aspects of the production — lights, sound, costumes, etc. — are added, which is hellish even in the best of circumstances), so that translated into even longer rehearsals and even more time away from Brad and Sadie. And while I tried to remind myself that this was only temporary, I was pretty miserable a good chunk of the time. I’d sit in the darkened theatre seats while the crew talked over scene transitions and light cues and fight back the urge to shout “WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT WHAT SONG WE USE FOR THE SCENE FIVE SET CHANGE, I HAVE A BABY WHO NEEEEEDS MEEEEEEEE!!”
Internet, what the fuck? Why is this so hard? When it’s all said and done, it will have really only been about two weeks of evenings that I had to miss Sadie’s bedtime. Why do I feel 1) so fucking awful about it, and 2) like I am going to stop breathing if I don’t spend every evening with Sadie?
I am hoping this is only temporary, because I don’t want to become a person who can’t enjoy anything outside of her (fucking adorable and sweet and awesome and practically walking) offspring. I have definite flashes of enjoyment at rehearsal — there’s something infinitely comforting about the old routine of rehearsal, tech week, opening night, etc. — but for the most part, my heart is elsewhere. If I could just spend ONE WEEKDAY A WEEK home with Sadie FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST (work, I’m looking at you – and also making a very obscene hand gesture in your direction), I think I’d feel better about sacrificing my evenings on the altar of Theatre Dorkdom. But as it is, I feel like a total asshole for being in this show. This frustrates Brad to no end, as he is enjoying the Daddy-Sadie bonding time and just wishes I would SHUT UP and ENJOY MYSELF already, but…I feel that impatience. That anxiousness. That undeniable pull of wanting to be at home with Sadie. What does it all meeeeeeean? When will it go awaaaaaaaaay? Will I ever enjoy being a complete Drama Nerd ever again?
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.