My old life.

I've been reflecting lately on my life before I had children, which is almost unimaginable now, but it was, in fact, true (I think). And, more to the point, in that childless life of mine, almost a decade ago, I was an actress.

Since my early 20s, I had devoted years emerised in the world of the theatre. Ah, the theatah. I imagined myself continuing this life until I was a weathered seasoned actress like Duse, Garbo, Dietrich, Davis and Dench. I never thought I would ever step away. To quote a line from one of my all-time favorite films, All About Eve, "We know her humility, her devotion, her loyalty to her art, her love, her deep and abiding love for us, for what we are and what we do, the theater. She has had one wish, one prayer, one dream - to belong to us."

Now, I was never the type of woman who couldn't wait to settle down and start a family either. It's not that I didn't want to have children; it's just that I lived for years in this self-involved rat race of getting my career going to where I "wanted it to be" before I would even consider having them. Also, finding a partner, I would even consider having them with too (let’s not forget about that). And, I'm pretty sure, had I not gotten pregnant with my first child with an IUD floating around in my uterus (0.01% chance), I probably would not be a mother today.

I very likely might have still been pounding the pavement in the concrete jungle focusing on my career, or maybe I'd be performing on Broadway or the West End in London or starring in a Hollywood movie. And, then I'd be "too busy" to have children. OR maybe I'd be unemployed, depressed, all alone, sitting at the corner bar in the middle of the afternoon talking to anyone who would listen with a cigarette dangling and a hat drinking the cheap chilled house white, pontificating about the good old days when I was young and pretty. And, THEN I'd be too old even to try. Who the heck knows. All I know is that I could not have wanted my life to have unfolded any other way.

Being a mother has been the most unbelievable, challenging, exhausting, fulfilling, rewarding thing I have ever done. I am deeply grateful for this extraordinary time to experience pregnancy, childbirth (C-Section boy, and successful VBAC girl if you must know!), breastfeeding, pumping, sleep deprivation, and all the other fun shit we mothers deal with on the daily. Most importantly, though, I’ve been able to stay at home with them. To be present and bond and nourish and help them grow up into being independent. My childhood was very different, and one that I very consciously did not want to repeat. My parents were both focused on their careers and traveled and worked all the time, so I was raised by a nanny and felt more connected to her than my parents when I was young. When my first child was born, it took me almost a year to hire a babysitter to look after him, fearing that he would bond with her and not me. Thankfully, I got over that fear once my second child was born; cause bitch I was too exhausted and finally embraced the fact that I needed all the help I could get! It really does take a village.

My father would periodically ask me, throughout these years away, if I missed performing and also to make sure I don't wake up one day old and in regret that I never went back to it. I’d promise him that “if I missed it Pop, I would be doing it.” Not to mention, all the best roles ARE the older ones.  In my young days at acting class, I always gravitated to play the characters much older than me, those in their ancient 40s. The younger characters seemed to bore me. I wanted to play those women who had been through some shit and (generally) had more depth. So, if I look at this mommy time away from the stage from that perspective - I am ripe and ready for many of those delicious roles now - with wrinkles, life experiences and many (covered) grey hairs to boot. Also, all this newfound motherhood wisdom must go to some good theatrical use, damn it.

I don’t think my father believed me or wanted to believe me though. You see, ever since he saw me on stage in my first leading professional role, playing Viola in Twelfth Night at the Great Lakes Shakespeare Festival in Cleveland, he became my biggest supporter. He would always encourage me to “stick with it” no matter how discouraged I became if I didn't get a part. As well as, endlessly remind me to, no matter what, practice practice practice. His slogan, "When you are sleeping, someone else is practicing." I will never forget him running backstage to my dressing room on opening night, dumbfounded, how I was able to remember all the Shakespearean dialogue, and making it understandable to him. I was stunned right back at him at the question. And, I responded, with a proud smile, "Well, Pop, it takes practice."

Now, if you have been following me on Instagram for the past few years, you probably have witnessed the ways I have randomly practiced and fed my repressed acting self. I have been guilty of sneaking in a Shakespeare monologue while cooking dinner or another great speech from a favorite play. Well, not sneaking, performing them in a very exclusive private setting in my kitchen with my iPhone, Instagram followers and children as the audience. These glorious plays and words have always been close to my heart. I can not believe how much I remember of those speeches after all these years. Not to mention, I am introducing the classics to my children! 

Last year, my uber talented dear friends at Rising Phoenix Rep encouraged me to come down to LA for a week of rehearsals and act in a site-specific theatre piece at an old school bookstore, Larry Edmonds, on Hollywood Blvd for one night only. When I discovered I was to play the ghost of Marlene Dietrich, a dream, I couldn't refuse. It was also the perfect way to dip my toe back in the pond to see if I even still enjoyed it. I didn't invite anyone to the show either. I just wanted to play. And it was thrilling. Maybe even more so than I had remembered it to be. Most importantly, it reminded me how much I love to perform.

So, now that my kids are getting older and more independent of me (and I am also of them) I am opening up the door to figure out a way to get back to my creative expressive imaginative performing self. Where this newfound inspiration will lead, I am not quite sure. But, I'll tell you this: I now truly miss it Pop.