Learning Up Close and Personal

Today, I learned a lot.

I learned (from experience) that workout pants with elastic waistbands aren't as comfy as they used to be, and I now recognize the importance of those big, stretchy panels in maternity pants.

I learned (from Real Simple magazine) to call a plumber immediately if you have a leak, no matter how small.

I learned (from Dean) that a good logo is all you need to get really inspired at work.

But the BEST things I learned today were learned up close and personal from Meredith Moseley-Bennett.  Meredith is the mother of 4 month old Bailey, the sweetest baby girl in all the land.  I spent a couple of hours with the two over them, over lunch today, and learned LOTS of things about being a new mom and living with a tiny, tiny person.

In a nutshell, I learned:

Babies can entertain themselves for longer than I thought.

Dogs love babies.

Poop can be projectile.

Babies can go through 14 diapers a day.

Breast feeding is pretty much what you think it is.

Vaseline serves many purposes.

Generous friends give you clothes.

Doulas cost $1000.

A doula is a person.

There was more, but I should save something for future blog posts.  And you, gentle reader, are in for a treat- 30 straight days of blogging from yours truly.  I've got some great ideas, too- blog-within-a-blog, video blog, pig latin blog, Hank's own blog...It's gonna be a great month.

But first, I need to get this poop off my shirt.

Slowing it Down

I hate Slow Walkers.

For me, getting from Point A to Point B is a sport, and I've prided myself on being an Olympian in this event.  I look beyond the slow walker, scoping out the available spots, and planning my sling-shot navigation of the busy sidewalks.  I quickly gauge my speed and size and complete complex mathematical equations to quickly determine if I can dodge Fat Man with Suitcase and scoot in front of Foreign Tourist with Map, before slamming into Mountain of UPS Packages Sitting in the Sidewalk.

It is My Thing, and I'm great at it.  At least, I used to be- before I was pregnant.

Now, I have become the very thing I despise.  One of the most startling discoveries I've made in recent weeks is that my stamina has gone out the window.  While most people may not even notice I'm pregnant (though I do- none of my regular clothes fit anymore), my body sure as Hell knows, and reminds me when I get a little too full of myself.

After a few blocks of hustling and dodging, I get light headed and overheated, and I am forced to walk at the same pace as our elderly neighbor, Irene.  Actually, Irene is faster.  I can't lie.  I find myself keeping to the right on the sidewalk, out of respect for the fast walkers who are likely cursing me.  My timing is all off now, too- what used to take me 10 minutes now takes significantly longer.  And the stairs coming out of the subway?  Puh-leeze.  No more jogging up those bad boys.  I make good use of the handrail, and try to keep moving.

I started going back to the gym this morning, and have to slow it down there, too.  When some hardbody gets on the elliptical next to me, I can't secretly race her anymore.  I am forced to focus on my own workout- and on Kathie Lee and Hoda- and not compete with those around me.

Maybe that's the problem I'm having.  I'm no longer a contender.  I've had to pull out of the race, a race I was mastering, and now I'm an amateur.  A hobbyist.  A sideline commentator.

But I'm also Making a Human Inside of Me.  And that's a pretty good reason to slow things down.  At least the other contenders have a fighting chance now.

"Normal" is Relative

I've never done things the normal way.

It took me nine years from graduate from college, thanks to a mild case of wanderlust and general indecision.  I once dropped everything and moved to Montana because I'd had a nice visit there one time, and wanted an adventure.  While many of my peers got married and had kids in their twenties, I held out for nearly 20 years and did it after I turned 40.  

And while my choices may have made my parents prematurely grey, my life has turned out just fine.  It's turned out perfectly, in fact.

But my penchant for doing things a little backwards has apparently followed me into my middle years, and I find myself in a situation that makes many scratch their heads:  I've spent half of my first trimester away from home, doing a play at a theatre in Myrtle Beach.

During the time that hormones are at their most erratic, when moms-to-be lean on (and confound) their partners the most, when all the weird "what is THAT?!" stuff starts happening to our once-familiar bodies...THAT is when I moved myself 663 miles away in the name of art.

I've been away from home since October 29th, when I left to shoot a film in NC, and in Myrtle Beach since November 8th, the day we began rehearsals for A CHRISTMAS STORY.  Here is what I miss most, in no particular order:

Dean
Walking/cuddling/looking at/cleaning up after my dog
WALKING to run errands
Central Park
NOT DRIVING
Cold, winter-time weather
New York at Christmas
Our neighbors
Seeing familiar faces on the street
Seamless Web
Our crazy old Italian landlords, Luigi and Maria
Hank snoring
Dixie sitting on the newspaper
Tater talking nonstop
Dean (bears repeating)

I've had a wonderful time here, and am grateful to Thom and Mindi Penn for the opportunity to make fun theatre with them.  I'm grateful to my Dad and Linda for turning their condo over to me, and for putting up a Christmas tree to make being away from home a little sweeter.  I'm grateful to Mom and Mike and Sharon and Johnny and Aunt Peggy and Jim and Alice and Paul and all the family who came to see the show and remind me that I'm not here all alone.

But coming home late at night to a pet-free condo, spending  90 minutes a day in the car, and sleeping alone is for the birds.  I'm ready to get back to my normal life.

However unconventional it may seem.

Wait...WHAT?

I'll wait a second while you re-read the NEW title of this blog.

Still with me?  Good, because from here on out, this blog is going to be really, really fun to read.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pregnant.  With a baby.  Together, Dean and I have created a human being that lives inside of me, wakes me every two hours to pee, and refuses to let me wear my skinny jeans. And we are thrilled.

In the past few weeks, we've informed our families and some close friends, and the reactions have ranged from tears of joy to spit takes to uncontrollable laughter to stunned stares, and one report of someone actually falling out of their chair.  And those are just reactions from me and Dean.

Answers to your most pressing questions:  We're due in June, and we don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet.  We WILL find out, because otherwise I will explode.  We have chosen names, but won't be sharing them with anyone until the BIG DAY.  However, feel free to send suggestions, because we like a good laugh and could be persuaded to change our minds for something really good, like Bookcase or Hortence.  We're staying in NYC and are keeping our current apartment because it's awesome, it's near the Best Park in the World, and Hank would be devastated if we moved him away from his doggie girlfriend, Fenny.

My friend Kim pointed out that I completely started my life over at 40, and she's right.  In the past 2 years, I got married for the first (and last) time, changed my career, moved to New York, and NOW...am expecting a baby.

I realize our child will graduate from high school in 2030, and it freaks me out, because I have no idea how we're going to teach it to drive one of those flying George Jetson cars we'll all have by then.  Rather than dwell on the possibility that I might need a walker to attend the child's wedding, I'm going to embrace the fact that as we raise our child, I will have TWICE the life experience to draw from as a lot of first-time moms.  And when I get super depressed that my bras don't fit and I can't button my regular pants anymore, I smile and think of how adorable Dean Poynor will look walking around with a Baby Bjørn strapped to his chest.

Before I go eat Second Breakfast, I want to share one of my earliest blog posts with you.  It's called "Babyville."  It's even funnier now.

Guess I drank the water after all.

A Walk Down Memory Lane (Or...How Do I Know This Person?)

Before we moved to New York, I did a major purge of lots of my worldly possessions.  The local thrift stores didn't know what hit them.  I brought them kitchen appliances, fringed lamps, shoes that made my feet cry, artwork purchased after enjoying too many glasses of wine...you name it, they got it.

And it felt GOOD.  Not just to get rid of that stuff that was weighing me down, but also to revisit how each of those things ended up in my life to begin with.  Did I choose it, or was it thrust upon me?  How long had I been carting it from place to place?  Did it fit me any longer?

I recently had to transfer contacts from my old phone to my new one, and as I went through the list of names, the feeling is surprisingly similar to when I cleared out my house.  It was a trip down Memory Lane, or in some cases, a trip down Where the Hell am I Road.

Because I'm a giver, I thought it'd be fun to share with you some of the actual entries from my old phone that didn't make the cut.  Here we go!

Nas-  I wrote a lengthy explanation of who this is, but then I realized my mother would have a heart attack when she read it (even though it was REALLY funny.)  All I will say is that Kathy Gambrell knows who this is, and we met him at Hush.

Deadbeats with Dogs-  Exactly as it sounds.  Losers who lived around the corner from me, who let their two dogs run loose in the neighborhood, and didn't seem to care when concerned citizens tried to scoop them up and take them back.  Total losers.

Eddie- This appears to be a New Orleans number, which means two things.  I was probably with my Aunt Carla, and we were likely at a bar.  Aside from that, I have no clue.

North South TV- When I first moved to NYC, I was on a fashion-centered reality TV show.  What, you didn't hear about it?  That was my plan.  I told virtually no one, for good reason.  These folks produced it.

Subfinder- Sweet, sweet Subfinder.  You saved me many a morning when I was too ill to teach school.  I almost had your number memorized, I loved you so dearly.  Alas, my teaching days are on hold, and by the time I come back to it (if ever) there will probably be some sort of mind-reading system that not only finds a substitute teacher for you, but also can tell if you're faking.

Dispatch- This was the number for the cops in my old neighborhood in SC.  I programmed it in my phone after someone left threatening porn on my doorstep, and tried to break in to my laundry room.  (Yes, I said PORN, and yes, it can be threatening, believe me.)  New York is a million times safer than my old neighborhood.

Blue Ribbon Cab- New York friends, back in SC you have to make a phone call for a cab to come pick you up, and then you wait for it.  If you tried to flag one down in SC, the driver would probably just wave back.

There are lots of other names in there, people I fondly remember, but haven't spoken to in years.  I let a lot of them go, relying on Facebook in the event I need to reconnect with them.  Looking at the list of entires, I see how far I've come, how much has changed, and how much I've learned.  My life is awesome, and all these entries played a little part in getting me here now.

Maybe not Nas, or Eddie, but you get the idea.

Viewer Mail

Adoring fans,

You've no idea how meaningful your cards, emails, and mysterious packages have been to me during this busy time.  I'd like to take a few minutes to personally address some of the mail I've received while this blog has been on hiatus, and hope that my personal responses will give you insight into who Monica really is- and in the case of IMWTCHNGU666, put an end to the doorstep poetry you seem so intent on leaving for me.

Let's dig into the mail bag, shall we?

Kippy from Toledo asks, "Although I live in Ohio and have never even heard of you, how do you learn all those lines?"
--Oh, Kippy.  If I had a nickel for every time I've been asked that question...I'd throw those nickels at your head one at a time until you asked a better question.  Next!

Mildred from Hell Hole Swamp asks, "Will you please come help me move?  I live in Hell Hole Swamp."
--Mildred, even though I feel your pain and fully understand how traumatic it must be to live in such a place, I am a professional actor, and do not help people move.  Unless, of course, it is to a fabulous country home with a guest room I might use later.  And only if there is pizza.  Sorry.


ParisMtScout asks, "I understand you've recently completed filming a major role in a new independent feature film.  Which do you prefer, acting in handcrafted films such as GET BETTER, or being in dumb plays?"
--I know this is you, Chris White.  I had a great time working on your film.  Now, please let other people ask some real questions.


Cindy Lou Who from Whoville asks, "If you could play any historical figure, who would it be, and why?"
--Finally, a real question!  Cindy Lou, I am particularly drawn to the stories of those less fortunate than myself- those who endure hardships beyond our wildest imaginations.  Those who battle the forces of evil and strive for goodness in this cruel, cruel, world.  I think the choice here is obvious- I would play Cindy Lou Who from Whoville, who battles the Grinch and saves Christmas.


"Wait.  That's me."
--Next question.


"And I'm four years old.  You're ten times my age."
--You LIE!


"I'm not a real person.  I said 'historical figure.'"
--Is there a breeze in here?


Ann from Cedar Mountain asks, "Why don't you get on one of those TV shows I watch?  Just call them and tell them you'd like to be on there- tell them you were on 'Army Wives.'  And are you eating well?  You need to keep your strength up- you get sick when you do too much, you know that.  And don't forget, Tommy's birthday is coming up."
--MOM, I will call you later.  


Kim K. from NYC asks, "I've got a beautiful wedding dress that I no longer need.  Could you use it in your next project?  And I wore it because I was REALLY in love.  And please come to my purse signing at Daffy's in Herald Square at 4pm."
--Kim, I actually COULD use your dress for an upcoming project.  My husband, playwright Dean Poynor, is writing a play that features wedding dresses very prominently.  Where can I come pick it up?


You can come to where I work.  It's on television.
--But where, exactly?


TV is everywhere.  
--But where do you work, so I can pick up the dress?


I'm on TV.


Looks like we're out of time.  Thank you all for your messages of encouragement- I will do my best to answer each and every one during my time here in Myrtle Beach.  And please, come see A CHRISTMAS STORY at Atlantic Stage, running December 2-18th.

Ooh!  A new message just came in!  Let's see what it says...

Dean from NYC asks, "Honey, where is the lint roller?  And I miss you."
--It's in the pet basket, and I miss you, too. :)

Alright, Alright...If You Insist.

Lately, some heard some complaints from my fans that I haven't updated my blog in awhile.  And by fans, I mean my parents.  

The truth is, I've been so busy doing some really awesome things, I just haven't had time to write about them.  And to some degree, writing about how awesome things are COULD be perceived as tooting my own horn, and contrary to what Dean might tell you, I don't like to toot.  I do, occasionally, poot- but that is a different blog.

Last week, we closed our short run of WHALES AND SOULS at The Flea Theater.  It was the first NYC production by The Salvage Company, the first full production of the show in the US, and it was great.  We had super houses, and we're keeping our ears open for opportunities to bring it back down the line.  Check out some production photos from our run (courtesy of Dean Poynor.)

In the midst of rehearsing WHALES, I agreed to take part in Primary Stages One Minute Play Festival, held at 59E59.  It was a hoot, with brand new plays by Neil LaBute, Tina Howe, Craig Lucas, Nilaja Sun, and many, many more.  I was in 5 of them, and in the course of the evening, I dragged myself across the stage without the use of my legs, forced my kids to swim with Tennessee Williams, spotted and ran from an approaching tornado, and said some questionable things as a sex-starved Maggie the Cat.  

In early October, Chris White came to NYC to shoot some scenes with me for his upcoming film, GET BETTER, and this Saturday, I head to NC to finish shooting the film there.  Check out the blog he and his wife Emily have about the film and their process.  Pretty moving stuff, and I'm honored to be part of it all.

I finish shooting GET BETTER November 7th, and then I travel to Myrtle Beach, SC to play the Mom in the stage adaptation of A CHRISTMAS STORY at Atlantic Stage.  Yep, it's the same as the movie, and I get to say, "You'll shoot your eye out."  Mindi and Thom Penn run Atlantic Stage, and are killing it on the Grand Strand with their fantastic work, and I'm so happy to join them.  I'll be there off and on through December 18th (thank you, Spirit Air!)  Hooray for friends and hooray for theatre!

So, that's what's been up with me, work-wise, anyway.  I could bore you with details about how my husband is phenomenal and talented, or how my dog is super well-behaved, or how I'm cooking up a storm lately in the kitchen, but I'll save personal life stuff for another post.  

Sorry, I tooted.  ;)