I have, over the years, read more articles about balancing career and
family than I can count. And, over the years, I have developed an image of
myself as one of those circus clowns who twirls plates on long poles.
When the balancing act works, it is a thing of beauty. When it doesn't,
there's a loud crashing noise and a huge mess.
There's a new balance on my mind these days. It's less about making
sure I am where I need to be at any given moment--I know that I will be
at kid dropoffs and pickups, because that's my job right now. The new
balance (no sneaker pun intended) is the one I negotiate between the
things I do as a currently "at-home" parent and the things I do as a
person who intends to be working full time again.
What does it mean to balance those two? It means that, while it's great
to "have coffee" with friends, it's important to make sure that at least
some of my coffee dates are with work-related contacts. It means
that, while it's great to use my talents and current free time to help
out people and causes, it's important to realize that not every minute
of my "I'm not working" time is actually free time. Just as there
once needed to be a balance between full time work and parenting, there
now needs to be a balance between freelancing/looking for work and
enjoying the perks of having home as home base.
The plates don't seem quite as high on the poles as they once did, and
my fear of dropping them is not as present as it once was. But I'm
still eager to put on the plate-spinning show. And if so, I'd best keep
practicing my balancing act. Every day.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Happy Wednesday
On Wednesdays, we get dollar coffee (or hot chocolate, depending on your
age) at 7-11. It's a small thing, perhaps, but a big cup of this small
thing, and only a dollar.
Once upon a time at One Life to Live, there were control room coffee runs (less dependent on the day, more dependent on the director or producer). A list of each person's drink of choice was made, and interns would return with armfuls of yummy treats that made the long days go faster. It wasn't dollar coffee, but it was a similar small thing that made a big difference.
Life is so full of things we have to do--school and work and afterschool activities. Buying groceries, making dinner, cleaning, and paying bills. So many things that have to be done and that we do, fairly diligently, week in and week out. And amidst them, now there is dollar Wednesday coffee.
When the One Life studio moved far enough away from the coffee shop to make coffee runs unrealistic, the days of that afternoon treat ended, and a certain feel good perk of just getting through a rough afternoon or a rough week went away.
It's amazing how such a small thing can make a difference, and how, in the runaround of everyday life, we often leave out these small things, writing them off as too expensive or too caloric or just plain unnecessary. And, though they might not seem necessary, maybe they really are. Maybe they help us feel better, even if just for a few moments, or work better, even if just for a few hours, or just plain BE better, because we treated ourselves or someone else to a little bit of fun.
And that's one of the best things I can think of to do on a Wednesday. Or any day.
Once upon a time at One Life to Live, there were control room coffee runs (less dependent on the day, more dependent on the director or producer). A list of each person's drink of choice was made, and interns would return with armfuls of yummy treats that made the long days go faster. It wasn't dollar coffee, but it was a similar small thing that made a big difference.
Life is so full of things we have to do--school and work and afterschool activities. Buying groceries, making dinner, cleaning, and paying bills. So many things that have to be done and that we do, fairly diligently, week in and week out. And amidst them, now there is dollar Wednesday coffee.
When the One Life studio moved far enough away from the coffee shop to make coffee runs unrealistic, the days of that afternoon treat ended, and a certain feel good perk of just getting through a rough afternoon or a rough week went away.
It's amazing how such a small thing can make a difference, and how, in the runaround of everyday life, we often leave out these small things, writing them off as too expensive or too caloric or just plain unnecessary. And, though they might not seem necessary, maybe they really are. Maybe they help us feel better, even if just for a few moments, or work better, even if just for a few hours, or just plain BE better, because we treated ourselves or someone else to a little bit of fun.
And that's one of the best things I can think of to do on a Wednesday. Or any day.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Writing Lessons
I spent a chunk of today starting to write the d'var Torah, a literary
criticism-slash-inspirational speech that I will be delivering at a
community Shabbat service this Saturday. For those of you who read the
"Commitment" post a few weeks ago, this is evidence that I did slow down
and say "yes." I won't give away the topic--you'll have to wait until
at least Saturday for that--but I will share a few of the things I've
learned so far.
1. We grownups should have a whole lot of respect for our 13 year olds who write Bar/Bat Mitzvah speeches and for our middle and high school students, who are called upon to analyze text every day. It's not easy.
2. Speaking is not the same as writing. I keep reminding myself that I will have to say out loud, in front of a bunch of people, whatever I write. So, please, no crazy long words that I'll trip over in the moment.
3. A d'var Torah is not a blog. I've been writing this blog for five months now, and I'm pretty comfortable with it. But there's text to analyze here, people. This is not just a witty personal commentary (though I hope it will end up somewhat personal and at least a little bit witty).
4. It's okay to say "yes," even when you're not sure you can do something. It tends to stretch the brain, and who among us couldn't use a little brain-stretching every now and then?
5. As a former co-worker taught me, some of the best things happen when you just let yourself feel.
I'll keep you posted. Literally.
1. We grownups should have a whole lot of respect for our 13 year olds who write Bar/Bat Mitzvah speeches and for our middle and high school students, who are called upon to analyze text every day. It's not easy.
2. Speaking is not the same as writing. I keep reminding myself that I will have to say out loud, in front of a bunch of people, whatever I write. So, please, no crazy long words that I'll trip over in the moment.
3. A d'var Torah is not a blog. I've been writing this blog for five months now, and I'm pretty comfortable with it. But there's text to analyze here, people. This is not just a witty personal commentary (though I hope it will end up somewhat personal and at least a little bit witty).
4. It's okay to say "yes," even when you're not sure you can do something. It tends to stretch the brain, and who among us couldn't use a little brain-stretching every now and then?
5. As a former co-worker taught me, some of the best things happen when you just let yourself feel.
I'll keep you posted. Literally.
Monday, February 4, 2013
It Could All Change
As we head into another week of the school bus strike, it feels as
though the intricate arrangements for getting my children to their
schools in the morning and home in the afternoon are not just a
temporary solution, but the new normal. Every thought process I go
through about activities presumes no school bus. Every imagined note to
a babysitter presumes no school bus. And yet, at any moment, it all
could change.
Throughout my life, I have had friends who made summer plans, five year plans, and even life plans. Every so often, I've thought about doing that. Even tried. Problem is, most of the time when I make plans, so many of the underlying circumstances change, the plans no longer make any sense. Take summer camp--which New York City families tend to plan in January or February. If I set it up to make sure my kids are covered if/when I am working, the scheduled weeks always end up to be weeks when relatives come from far away and expect my kids to be available. Work comes when it comes, so plans to go to meetings or school events are almost always tentative. Maybe it's a family of five, maybe it's the industry in which I work. Or maybe I am just not a person who was meant to make plans.
So, while any day, we could back to having a school bus, any day we could go back to me working long hours and having babysitters ride herd at my apartment each afternoon, all I can--no, need to--deal with now is now. The NOW normal. When things stop changing, I'll make some plans.
Don't hold your breath. The now normal changes just about every day.
Throughout my life, I have had friends who made summer plans, five year plans, and even life plans. Every so often, I've thought about doing that. Even tried. Problem is, most of the time when I make plans, so many of the underlying circumstances change, the plans no longer make any sense. Take summer camp--which New York City families tend to plan in January or February. If I set it up to make sure my kids are covered if/when I am working, the scheduled weeks always end up to be weeks when relatives come from far away and expect my kids to be available. Work comes when it comes, so plans to go to meetings or school events are almost always tentative. Maybe it's a family of five, maybe it's the industry in which I work. Or maybe I am just not a person who was meant to make plans.
So, while any day, we could back to having a school bus, any day we could go back to me working long hours and having babysitters ride herd at my apartment each afternoon, all I can--no, need to--deal with now is now. The NOW normal. When things stop changing, I'll make some plans.
Don't hold your breath. The now normal changes just about every day.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Directing Team
I woke up this morning to the news that One Life to Live's Jill Mitwell
(and her directing team, which included me, as an AD and a Stage
Manager) won the 2012 Director's Guild (DGA) Award for Daytime Drama.
It's amazing to think that One Life to Live aired just ten episodes in
2012--over a year ago--and one of them won a DGA award. I guess what we
did back then did live on after all.
I didn't go to the awards ceremony. Numerous East Coast commitments have generally kept me from attending LA awards ceremonies, so I wasn't there applauding during or toasting afterward. But when I read the news this morning, I couldn't help but be transported back to the days when I talked Bob Woods and Hilary B. Smith through their cabin scenes as a Stage Manager and talked camera operators through scenes of Heaven as an Associate Director. I was reminded of what it means to be a directing team--to work together to make a Director's vision a reality. It mattered that my Stage Manager colleagues and I made sure the props were on set. It mattered that my AD colleagues edited the pieces and parts to make a moving story. It mattered that my Production Associate colleagues kept track of continuity, given that the episode was shot on multiple days.
And so, when I read the news this morning, I realized that it didn't matter so much that I wasn't there to hear the award winner announced. I was there when it really mattered, working as part of a team that made the award-winning show. And while I may give up a trip to LA and the chance to glam up for a night, I will never give up the memory of being part of that team. And I will keep looking forward to my next team.
I didn't go to the awards ceremony. Numerous East Coast commitments have generally kept me from attending LA awards ceremonies, so I wasn't there applauding during or toasting afterward. But when I read the news this morning, I couldn't help but be transported back to the days when I talked Bob Woods and Hilary B. Smith through their cabin scenes as a Stage Manager and talked camera operators through scenes of Heaven as an Associate Director. I was reminded of what it means to be a directing team--to work together to make a Director's vision a reality. It mattered that my Stage Manager colleagues and I made sure the props were on set. It mattered that my AD colleagues edited the pieces and parts to make a moving story. It mattered that my Production Associate colleagues kept track of continuity, given that the episode was shot on multiple days.
And so, when I read the news this morning, I realized that it didn't matter so much that I wasn't there to hear the award winner announced. I was there when it really mattered, working as part of a team that made the award-winning show. And while I may give up a trip to LA and the chance to glam up for a night, I will never give up the memory of being part of that team. And I will keep looking forward to my next team.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Secrets of the Very Tired
My kids are not little anymore. I don't carry small human beings in my
arms or strapped to my chest or on my shoulders, yet, some days, I am
exhausted as if I do. You would think that life would be simpler when
kids take care of their own bodily needs, pack their own backpacks,
sometimes even travel on their own. Simpler in some ways, maybe. But
in others, way more complicated. And way more exhausting.
The thing about babies is that, even if you keep them on a schedule, it is a schedule set by you. Where you go, they go. Or if they have to nap at home, you arrange accordingly. No matter what the equation, you're in it. While crying fits or explosive poop may make it seem that they are in control, in the end, you are the one who pulls it all together, who keeps it in control.
Now that my kids are older, there are days when I very clearly feel as though I am no longer in control. They go off to school each day and have interactions that I may not even hear about. They have interests and activities, which certainly make them fascinating people, but which also have me running all over town. We are no longer parents with children. We are a household with five completely different sets of needs, and let's face it, it's not easy to meet one person's needs, much less five people's. No wonder I'm tired.
I don't see our schedule getting any simpler anytime soon, so I'm prepared. But here's the question--do I tell my friends who are struggling through lack of sleep babyhood that the tiredness will just pretend to go away, yet sneak back just when they feel they are re-taking control of their lives? Do I warn them to pace themselves and to beware of letting their kids pursue all their interests?
Nah, they'll just have to discover this for themselves. It's more fun that way. And anyway, I'm too tired!
The thing about babies is that, even if you keep them on a schedule, it is a schedule set by you. Where you go, they go. Or if they have to nap at home, you arrange accordingly. No matter what the equation, you're in it. While crying fits or explosive poop may make it seem that they are in control, in the end, you are the one who pulls it all together, who keeps it in control.
Now that my kids are older, there are days when I very clearly feel as though I am no longer in control. They go off to school each day and have interactions that I may not even hear about. They have interests and activities, which certainly make them fascinating people, but which also have me running all over town. We are no longer parents with children. We are a household with five completely different sets of needs, and let's face it, it's not easy to meet one person's needs, much less five people's. No wonder I'm tired.
I don't see our schedule getting any simpler anytime soon, so I'm prepared. But here's the question--do I tell my friends who are struggling through lack of sleep babyhood that the tiredness will just pretend to go away, yet sneak back just when they feel they are re-taking control of their lives? Do I warn them to pace themselves and to beware of letting their kids pursue all their interests?
Nah, they'll just have to discover this for themselves. It's more fun that way. And anyway, I'm too tired!
Friday, February 1, 2013
Translating Skills
Several months ago, I had an interview for a job at a company where I'd
been wanting to work. I didn't get the job, but I think often about how
well the interviewer was able to translate my past experience into good
qualifications for this vastly different job. We spent a long time
talking about how, as a Director, I didn't need to know all the technical aspects of a
camera to work with camerapeople or all the ins and outs of the lighting
grid to tell a Lighting Director what I wanted to see. If I was to be a coordinating force among members of a
team, I needed only to be able to see how the parts made up the whole,
and to make sure each part made its contribution well and on time.
As my children get older, I am finding that philosophy very useful at home as well. As with shooting a television show, running a family has particular goals, and in both cases, recognizing the needs and interests of all the team members, and finding ways to meet those needs and still accomplish the goal puts a person in a good position. So, when one child wants to go somewhere and I need the others to follow suit, what is it that will motivate those others (because, as in a workplace, in a family, different people respond to different things)? I don't need to know why my son likes the TV shows he does, only that he will respond if it means being able to keep watching them. I may not understand everything about my daughter's homework, but if I give her the tools (a quiet room, a computer, colored pencils, whatever) she needs to complete it, we will all be happier. In life, those who succeed as managers are able to keep both the goal of the group and the interests of its members in mind.
I can easily count numerous times when understanding the motivations of each family member has helped me accomplish things for us as a family group, and, believe me, the sacrifices necessary to motivate each person are almost always worth it. I'm not sure if there's a resume adjustment necessary here, but I've got to love the fact that my directing skills translate, not just to other jobs, but to day to day family life as well.
As my children get older, I am finding that philosophy very useful at home as well. As with shooting a television show, running a family has particular goals, and in both cases, recognizing the needs and interests of all the team members, and finding ways to meet those needs and still accomplish the goal puts a person in a good position. So, when one child wants to go somewhere and I need the others to follow suit, what is it that will motivate those others (because, as in a workplace, in a family, different people respond to different things)? I don't need to know why my son likes the TV shows he does, only that he will respond if it means being able to keep watching them. I may not understand everything about my daughter's homework, but if I give her the tools (a quiet room, a computer, colored pencils, whatever) she needs to complete it, we will all be happier. In life, those who succeed as managers are able to keep both the goal of the group and the interests of its members in mind.
I can easily count numerous times when understanding the motivations of each family member has helped me accomplish things for us as a family group, and, believe me, the sacrifices necessary to motivate each person are almost always worth it. I'm not sure if there's a resume adjustment necessary here, but I've got to love the fact that my directing skills translate, not just to other jobs, but to day to day family life as well.
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