We start production in three days.
It is spring break. The children are at home and really, really sick of me.
While I'm managing a 1000 little details of pre-production, I am also editing a fashion lookbook.
And planning Harlow's 6th birthday party.
And prepping to photograph over 100 daycare students next week.
And an amazing boudoir session.
And I am really, really tired. It might have something to do with the police pounding on our door at 5:30 AM to inform us that an idiot driver plowed right into Caleb's parked truck, demolishing it and flipping themselves upside down. And the driver mercifully walking away from the crash. That is making me tired.
But the rest of it? It's kinda insanity, but I'm surrendering. I have a feeling April is gonna lay me low, but right now? Bring. It. On.
Monday, March 11, 2013
She is going to be a detective. Or MacGuyver. Declaring that she wanted to sew and not finding any thread, she made her own by trimming a piece of ribbon, threading the needle, and getting to work.
He is going to be a bouncer. Or a human gorilla. He is a most fearsome hugger and lover, when not trying to destroy our house from the inside out. Nothing is safe. Especially that mullet that is meeting a pair of scissors very soon.
Monday, March 4, 2013
In less two weeks, I will be on set, saying Action! for the very first time.
It hit me Saturday morning as we were standing before that bridge, me quietly despairing that we were not filming that very moment as the snow fell in Sundance film festival flakes around us.
This movie is actually happening.
The cast assembled for the first time Sunday for the read through, and the giddiness I've been feeling kinda mutated, shifting upwards to joy at the thought that these awesome people wanted to be in my movie! And then silmutaneously sliding toward that familiar queasy place knowing that in two weeks, these people would be looking to me to be their leader.
And leaders don't cry after saying Action! Or generally act like girls in a male dominated profession. They wait and do it in the privacy of their car after they wrap.
If they fall, the tears will be of gratitude, that's for sure.
I was a weird, fearless kid, whipping up "detergent" and putting them in my mom's tennis ball cannisters, gift wrapping them to hide the Wilson logo and going door to door, selling them to the neighbors. I routinely recruited the kids on my block to be in my plays, writing, starring and directing them like some baby Eric Von Stroheim, and then somewhere around high school, not long after the Junior Miss episode, I had some of that spirit taken away. Mean, insecure girls made me not want to take risks or make myself visible. If my life had been a movie, I'd be that goofy kid with a dream who finds other goofy kids and realizes that it's ok to be ambitious and cute and I would blaze forward in my quest, mean girls be damned. I warred with myself over my natural desire to be the showman, the entrepreneur and the dawning understanding that that kind of person has to have a hide of steel, because some people, particularly insecure high school girls still working their shit out, will test you. And you will learn you have a hide of tissue paper.
I am still way too sensitive for survival on this planet. But because you can't escape the Facebook and Pinterest dime store self-help affirmations, I WILL look back at who I wanted to be as a child and she will be showing up on set, thank you very much.