Ali Wentworth, Oprah and Motherhood

Here's my secret: I want Ali Wentworth to play the lead character in Michelle Obama:Taskmaster. She's so Beth. The first time I read the play out loud in my office last spring I immediately thought: Ali Wentworth - actress, comedian, mother of small kids, DC native and now Oprah regular.

A girl can am high, can't she?

I just think Ali Wentworth has exactly the right timing for this play. She can play funny, sad, pathetic, happy. That's what motherhood is, and that's Ali Wentworth.

I was watching Oprah yesterday and it seems Ali is now almost like a correspondent for Oprah. The segment yesterday was on women who need to overcome their fears. Three women were mothers, one wasn't. And...surprise, surprise...at the end of the show it was clear the only woman who seemed changed by the experience was the woman without children, who kept gushing how she now was finally going to put her oxygen mask on first before helping others. All I could think as I sat on my couch eating heavily salted, buttered popcorn was that it's going to take alot more than a day of roller derby skating, skydiving, and skinny dipping to get an exhausted mother out of her rut. I know Oprah doesn't know this, but I could see in Ali's eyes that she knows this is true.

Give these mothers a maid for 6 months, ongoing spa treatments, and daily naps and you might start to see them unwind a bit.

I want to see real change happen for mothers. How are we going to start feeling happier in our daily lives? I know it's not just a maid,(but that's a start!)it's more of an ongoing sisterhood that needs to happen. Mothers are so alone. Let's face it. Unless we live on a hippie commune we're really going it alone these days. And I think I-Phones, etc have made us even more alone because now we don't even pick up the phone anymore and talk. (I'm in a soccer carpool with 3 other moms and one called me the other day and I had no idea who she was).

Something's gotta give for moms.

Michelle seems to have a rhythm going, but is that real or are her backdrops just so perfect it looks to all of us exhausted moms that she's got her house together?

And now I'm wondering what about Ali's life...I'm sure motherhood isn't a piece of cake for her but she sure looks great and fearless on Oprah.

Okay, I'm groping for mother role models most days, leafing through People magazine, comparing motherhood. Julia's now making movies again in exotic locations like Bali...with twins and another little one somewhere about. Gwenthyn Paltrow has dropped out of movies but turns up on a show about driving through Europe eating decadent foods with a man who's not her husband and no kids in sight. Even Nicole Richie, former reality star and anorectic drug addict, is the perfect mother.

Honestly, I don't know what to think. Except that I still want Ali Wentworth to play Beth in my play!

Halloween

I’ve got two works for Halloween this year: It sucked.

Those are pretty strong words coming from me, a Halloween-lover who when the kids were 2 and 4 spent weeks looping thousands of multi-colored brown yard through four headbands so the whole family could dress up as a pride of lions(even my reserved British husband joined in on that one!) And then there was 2004 when my two boys (then 3 and 5) were British Beefeaters and I went as the Queen of England – red velvet dress, tiara and all.(pictured above)

I probably should have know this was going to be a horrible Halloween when my 8 year old son said he wanted to be the Barcelona soccer sensation Messi Lionel and I enthusiastically suggested I go as a female soccer star. He looked at me like I was the weirdest person alive. So I scratched the female soccer costume and decided this year I’d focus on the kids and their costumes.

I ordered both costumes (a Lionel Messi Barcelona shirt and shorts for Aden, and a Cad Bane costume – from Star Wars the Clone Wars – for my 10 year old Jacob) on October 3. I’m finally over making their costumes (ages 1-4) and the guilt of not making their costumes (ages 5-7), and this year I was determined not to do the last-minute sprint to the Halloween store to see what’s left on the rack. Get the costumes early, pray the kids don’t change their minds, and voila, happy Halloween.

October 10 the Cad Bane costume arrives. Jacob’s in this funny stage of being too small for adult costumes and too big for youth sizes so after a bit of Jewish stretching (“so what if there’s a little rip,” my grandmother used to say) Jacob fit into his costume. One down, one to go.

October 19. No Messi costume. My breathing deepens. I email the company, an obscure online company based (yes, BASED) in China. I get an email back that the item shipped 2 days ago and will take “10-20 days.” What?! This can’t be happening. Messi may not get here on time. How am I going to break this to Aden? I quickly surf the internet for other Messi options and I’m reminded that’s why I ordered the costume from a company based in China – they were the only complete Messi youth medium outfit I could find on the whole fucking internet.

I delay telling Aden for 3 days. If the costume arrives in 10 days it will make it for Halloween, I reason. My deadline to get the costume is October 31. Or at least that’s what I thought until we were walking home with Aden’s 8 year old soccer buddy the next day and he casually tells us that there is a Halloween parade at school on Thursday, October 29 which means I have 7 days.

I buy pizza that night and as Aden’s biting into his third piece I break the news.

“No Messi.”

“What???!!!!???”

“What about Beckham?” I propose.

Ten suspenseful seconds elapse.

“Only if it’s Beckham’s England uniform. Not LA Galaxy,” he says.

Okay, I tell him. How hard can it be to find a Beckham England outfit?

Well, that night as I surfed the internet I found out. The cheapest soccer Beckham England jersey I could find was $102.44. No way.

It takes me two more days to tell Aden, this time I tell him as he eats a bowl of ice cream.

“No Beckham England youth jerseys for under $100.”

“Did you try Ebay?” He responds.

“What 8 year old knows about Ebay?”

“Every 8 years old, mom.”

I try Ebay. The starting bid was several hundred.

“Still over $100,” I tell Aden.

“Oh no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“How about LA Galaxy?”

“Maybe.”

“Listen, Aden, you’ve got to make up your mind. I’m going nuts here. I’ve got to continue my life!”

“Okay, if Messi doesn’t arrived I’ll wear the LA Galaxy shirt.”

Back online that night I go to order the $39.99 Beckham LA Galaxy shirt from Amazon. I pay $16 for express shipping. But just before I’m about to click I see lettering in all capitals that reads:

THIS SHIRT TAKES 4-5 DAYS TO SHIP.

Fuck!!!! This can’t be happening. The Halloween parade is in 5 days. It won’t make it.

I walk downstairs to my husband and tell him I’ve had enough, I’m done, I can’t handle this pressure anymore. What should I do? My head floods. I dream of running away to Bali with the Eat, Pray, Love gal’s Brazilian hunky husband and frolic kid-free surrounded by spirituality and warm weather.

Luckily, my husband’s British which means he doesn’t dive into the depths much. He’s sensible.

Buy the LA Galaxy shirt.

The moment I clicked on the button I felt calmer. If it shows up I’m the best mother ever. If it doesn’t at least I tried.

Day before Halloween parade. Hubby’s now in Ethiopia, my period is one day late, and the LA Galaxy shirt hasn’t shown up. Oh, and I’m getting the stitches removed from my scalp that morning from a cyst the dermatologist removed 2 weeks ago. I break the news about the shirt to Aden.

“No Beckham,” I tell Aden as I’m driving him to school.

“WHAT?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Oh NOooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Oh yes.

“How about I wear a Barcelona jersey without Messi on it?” He suggests.

“I guess I could see if any shops near our house have one.”

I knew that was the wrong answer when I said it. How was I going to find a Barcelona jersey today?

Yep, after the stitches. That’s when I drove 30 minutes to Soccer American, shoving pieces of organic chicken into my mouth at every light, left overs from the night before. Just before getting out of the car I looked at my face in the rear view mirror and nearly scared myself – I looked like a crack addict. I quickly applied tinted Lancôme moisturizer everywhere just so I wouldn’t alarm the sales clerk.

I got the last Barcelona medium youth soccer jersey. Whew. It costs $60. (yes, I felt like either fainting or having a cigarette!).The shorts (not matching) were $30. No Messi on the back, but at this point I couldn’t care less.
Aden was elated.

“Messi! Messi! Messi!” he shouted when I handed him the jersey after school that day.
Even without Messi on the back he was proud to be wearing the Jersey from Messi’s team.

“And it’s just like the real Barcelona Jersey!”

It fucking better be for $60.

That night as I went to bed all I wanted was a box of cookies, yoga and a vodka.

Fast-forward to Halloween night. Tim’s still gone, but grandma was there which was a huge blessing. My mother really is a saint – she’d drive to Oklahoma in a tornado if I needed her. The Beckham shirt arrived that day so Aden was Beckham. Jacob decided he was only going to wear his hat because his costume was too small, which pissed me off but I decided arguing with a dyslexic 5th grader who has auditory processing issues on Halloween was a losing battle. I had spent $50 on candy at Target and the boys were excited that this year we finally lived in a place that would have trick or treaters come to our door. Everyone’s happy, I told myself.

And that’s when I remembered. We’re alone. Totally alone. No friends, no Tim, no Messi costume. Every previous Halloween we had had a wild time. Halloween parades, Indian buffets at our house, pin-the-tail on the witch games. We had hosted Halloween bashes at our house for the past three years. But last December we moved so this year we were in a new neighborhood, friendless, with $50 of candy in our house.

I suggested we go out trick or treating to take my mind off this. And that’s when the rain started. Just light rain, really, but with every tap of water I sank deeper.

Why are we here? I don’t want to live in this neighborhood. I liked where we lived in the woods; here we can’t even find a stick in this urban jungle. This place sucks. The people suck. Tim sucks for not being here. The candy sucks because I’ve been sugar-free for nearly 20 years so I can’t drown myself in it tonight. And the makers of that Messi costume suck because I ordered it on October 3rd and now it’s
October 31st and my 8 year old is wearing an LA Galaxy Jersey and they suck too.

I was about to snap out of it – the kids were really enjoying the trick or treating and we even found jovial neighbors who set up a spooky back-alley Halloween party - when I spotted them. First it was the husband of Aden’s soccer buddy, on his I-phone, standing on the corner. Then the other husband of Aden’s other soccer buddy dressed as a Star Wars character. And that’s when I knew it. The parents of Aden’s three soccer buddies, the three boys we’re in a carpool with two days a week to go to soccer practice, the only three kids Aden cares about, did not invite him to trick or treat with them.

My heart felt like a dagger had just entered. My son’s feelings are about to be hurt. I know this is part of life, but all I could think at that moment was: this sucks. We’re new to the neighborhood and the only deep connection our son has to anyone are those three boys and their parents didn’t think about calling him to go trick or treating.

I pray Aden doesn’t notice them. He acts like he doesn’t. One of the boy’s moms says hi, then another. One says, “Oh, we should have hooked up” …and I’m speechless. I feel like I just took LSD. Everything is slow motion. Where are my kids? Is my mother still with me? Was that Elvis just walking by or a kid pretending to be Elvis?

I just wanted to go home. Get away from these people.

Inconsiderate people.

Aden seemed to not feel bad. I won’t mention it. Maybe it’s just me, my hormones, my period. I’m nuts. Who cares about them. They can’t ruin our Halloween.

I laugh a lot for the next hour. Aden and my mom eat candy, Jacob hands out candy to more trick or treaters. The evening ends and as I put Aden to sleep he begins to cry. I crawl into his bed.

What’s the matter?

Nothing.

Are you sad?

Yes.

Why?

I don’t know why they didn’t include me.

My heart sinks.

Why?

Don’t blame your friends. It’s their parents. I know those boys like you.
Aden sobs.

I sob.

We embrace.

Why?

I don’t know why. Some parents are just like that.

Sob, sob.

I want to never associate with these people again, but I don’t tell Aden this.

I miss Daddy!!!!!!!!!!

I know, me too.

We blow our noses. The tissue box falls.

Mom?

Yes?

I really liked being Beckham tonight. Thank you.

We cuddle and in 5 minutes he’s asleep.

I then go downstairs and sob in my mother’s arms.

Maybe Halloween didn’t suck after all.