Baby Me, baby Lucy
Going to be a bit Grinchy over here for a minute - shocker, I know! - so hold onto your hats. I care about the Fourth of July approximately as much as I care about New Year's Eve, which is also approximately as much as I care about Ivanka Trump's thoughts on the 'male-dominant' defense industry (which is to say: very close to zero, apart from the potential for mild entertainment via trainwreck).
Me, in a beautifully produced video, being open. Or something.
A few weeks ago, my therapist said to me something that left me reeling. Jordan, she said, I have known you for years. And you are one of the least authentic people I have ever met.
How's that for a compliment?
It occurred to me yesterday that I hadn't made a dancing video in awhile. Years, in fact. (The last one we made was in our old house, wearing full Risky Business attire, but I can't show it to you because YouTube took it down. Because apparently you can't just use Bob Seger tunes willy-nilly. Shame.)
That clearly had to be fixed.
Our old (old, old) living room, 2009.
Several lifetimes ago (by my count), I wrote my first of what turned out to be hundreds of posts that loosely fall into the "Diary" category - the missives about parenting, about anxiety, about divorce that I've posted here over the years. This first one, though, was about something a little different. A little more...tactile.
It was about my living room. The living room that I shared with Kendrick (and Lucy, and then later on Virgil and our infant son) when we lived on the Upper East Side. It was a wild, messy mix of hand-me-downs from my parents, pieces we'd found discarded on the street and fixed up with varying degrees of success, and the occasional element of inexplicable drama (chalkboard fridge! graffiti-covered chest of drawers! insane bird wallpaper!).
A couple of years ago, when The Big Fat Activity Book for Pregnant People came out, I had one of the best interview experiences of my life with Ellie Knaus of Atomic Moms - and so obviously I had to come back while doing press for the new book. In this episode we talk perfectionistic tendencies, anxiety attacks, massive life transitions, and single mom life. Oh, and we swap tales of hitting our absolute most humiliating rock bottoms before we became “recovering actors” (Ellie's term, which I have now adopted as my own).
Oh AND I have real-time, major Life Realizations in this one. Like, on the air, while talking to Ellie. You can hear them. I also get weepy. It's a good time.
