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Baby Made Me Do It

Hi everybody! I haven’t written in over 6 months. You know why? ‘Cause I had a baby. Yep, the excuse that superwomen like CEO of Yahoo Marissa Mayer would never dare use, but smart women like myself do. Why not make use of it? I suffered through hours of what felt like two gigantic hands digging into my flesh and pulling my bones apart, a week with my downstairs blown-out and endured a new mom sentence of six weeks without sex. I earned this excuse card and shame on me if I don’t use it!

The excuse I HAVE A BABY covers everything from forgetting birthdays, to not contributing anything to potlucks, to flagrantly violating traffic laws. And unlike your usual rotating list of cop-outs that don’t involve saving for college–work, sick, sick cat–I HAVE A BABY can be used over and over again with your friends and you will never look like a dick. And don’t worry about coming up with an explanation either–no one wants to know because singles and single couples are afraid of babies. They believe as I once did, that newborns are a plague which, once contracted, wipes friends out from existence and prevents them from doing what those without spawn assume is prized above all else: hanging out with them.

Now that I’m on the other side, however, I’ve discovered that the whole thing is a sham. Sure babies deprive parents of their sleep and give them new problems to solve every day, but the thing new parents don’t share with the public is that newborns give them massive amounts of baby love hormones which make them perfectly capable of going out and seeing people. Thing is… they just don’t want to. Babies don’t turn parents into the walking dead, they turn them into selfish, socially undependable lying a**holes.

For instance:

  • You think your friends couldn’t make it to your party because little Aiden was taking an extraordinarily long nap? Wrong! They’ve always hated your parties and are glad they finally don’t have to go.
  • You invited your friends to see your band play on Saturday night but they couldn’t go because babysitters cost too much and they need to save for a house? Nuh-uh. Look on Facebook the next day to see what they’re doing. That’s right…checking in at a pricey mimosa brunch and spending money on friends they think are worth spending on a babysitter.
  • You tried calling your mom-friend to cry about your boyfriend AGAIN but she said she couldn’t talk because darling baby Mackenzie was crying to be fed? BS! That little bitch Mackenzie cries all the time. EVEN WHEN SHE’S HAPPY!

Of course when I first joined the club I was dumb enough to prove everyone wrong about what it meant to be a new mom. I didn’t want anyone to think I couldn’t do it all even when I didn’t want to do it all. I posted photos like this one:

Work Out Baby

You know what that got me? Friends inviting me to work out with them when all I wanted to do was sleep in and eat pizza… at the same time. But after several mornings of Burpees, ab exercises on furniture sliders and jumping lunges, I smartened up. Who cares if taking on the public’s perception of being a parent makes me look like a shut-in slob. When else will I be able to not do all the things I’ve never wanted to do? I took inventory, held a meeting with my internal Board of Directors, saw what others in my field were doing…


Oh no she didn’t! Pretending to be exhausted with perfectly side swept bangs and make-up! Good for her.

mom and son

Where’s momma heading to after this photo?

…and immediately posted my own version of this common mommy and me pose:

Do you think this image would tempt anyone to bother us with any invitations or obligations? Of course not. That’s because when you see photos like this splayed across Facebook and Instagram, you might comment, “Oh how sweet. Momma and child sleeping, Exhausted from so much love,” but subconsciously the photo makes you think, “F’ing stoner roommates.” Instantly this new look brands me as undesirable and totally useless. Success! A new parent through and through! As a result, guess what this pic has been getting me? Days and nights of doing nothing but sleeping and eating pizza. At the same time.

Pizza and Sleep

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Gone Fishing


I just had a baby. As traumatic and awesome as it was and is, the last thing I can do is think beyond ME WANT PIZZA, ME WANT WATER. So I will spare you any uninspired posts and instead invite you to look through the archives of the Platform for the next couple of weeks while I recoup and stare at my baby.

Happy holidays and see you in the New Year! Well, if we survive the end of the world, that is.

Sorry no post today

So sorry everyone but my dog ate my computer and my post was on it. The vet says that by next week we can get the computer out of him and I can post something then. In the meantime enjoy this video I took of some goats who had babies that day. Have a great week!

DIY Artist’s Retreat

I usually like to comment on social and political goings on, but instead this week I figured I’d just make everyone jealous. Isn’t that what being an artist is all about? Oh those artists with their extravagant bohemian lifestyles throwing caution to the wind, indulging in their need to express themselves. Yeah, that’s me this week and you know what? It’s awesome!!!!!

A month ago I finally decided to be the artist I am and without any government funding, eccentric rich friends with remote cabins in picturesque environs, or overseas citizenship (Say BBC? Any new television shows for us to remake this year?), I did what any red-blooded American artist would do – I took unpaid time off from my part-time jobs and made my own writer’s retreat by getting a cheap ticket to Denver and crashing out at a friend’s place.

It still blows me away that I did it, but I’m so happy to say that I’m currently in Colorado workshopping my one woman show with Denver theater director and actor Mare Trevathan. In case you don’t know, workshopping is an intensive working, rehearsing and revising of a script to get it closer to its final draft. In emotional artistic terms it’s like waking up every day to Debbie Allen from FAME:

“You’ve got big dreams, you want fame, well fame costs and right here is where you start paying… in sweat.”

Except I’m not sweating. It’s Denver in October and it’s f’ing beautiful! I get up early, run so I can clear my brain, shower, rewrite using yesterday’s notes then it’s off to the Denver Theater Center’s rehearsal rooms where Mare and I read over the script, try out some staging, rearrange wording and then laugh our asses off at our brilliant ideas. After all, brilliant is what all artists think their ideas are. And like any fantastic artistic retreat there’s also been wine, unexpected performances by fellow artists, and fabulous philosophical discussions. Mare read written work with members of the Colorado Chamber Players playing Dvořák’s music beside her on my first day here. How thrilling?! And in an art gallery! How apropos! Then with the music still fresh in my mind and inspiring the new direction of my work, we made our way to The Kitchen in Boulder where we partook as true Bon Vivants in their late night happy hour. C’est cheap? C’est bon.

Still, what I’ve enjoyed most and in all seriousness I can’t explain with enough words or with enough emotion, is how truly incredible it’s been to be able to get away and approach my work with clean perspective and without daily duties getting in the way. I used to give my old roommate Don Hamersley a bit of hell and call him lazy when he’d tell me he would be able to finish his screenplays if he could just get away to write. “Write. Don’t talk,” I’d cheer all around the apartment to encourage him to finish his work. Now if someone told me that I’d say do it! Get the hell out of town! If you can’t wait five to six months for some non-profit to hopefully choose you and your work to support and hook you up with an established artist’s retreat then get a cheap ticket, find a friend who can let you stay at their place to work, and find someone (a third eye or guide) who is willing to do the work with you and give yourself a much needed creative retreat. In other words… MORE WINE!!!!

Mare Trevathan helping figure out the order of Rene Parker's show I WANT A BABY?

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