One of my pals dropped off his 2 year old boy this morning so Q could babysit while he was at a meeting. Oh, man is our house ever not childproof. It was a constant no, don’t touch, watch out. I’d forgotten what it’s like. Q is so patient and good with little kids. I wish she would extend that patience to her mom.
Tomorrow if you are watching the Superbowl and if you’re watching commercials think of me. one of those little bits of filmmaking caused a good deal of marital stress at our place last week. Beck doesn’t produce TV commercials anymore. She deals with talent and music and payments and the actors union and that stuff. But a week ago Friday she found out that there were revisions that needed to be made on the spot that her company was doing for the Super Bowl. And that the producer was going on vacation. And would she just take it over and see that everything got done. That put her as the liaison between production and client. Up one chain, down the other and you’d better not get far from your phone. Neither of us are what you would call workaholics, and we like to leave our jobs at the office, so working long hours and taking long phone calls at night at home makes us crabby. And I was cabby as only intestinal disruption can make one crabby. But we got through, I’m actually feeling a little better today and we had a nice long talk last night. When you’ve been married for 25 years, I guess you need to make sure you do an occasional “I still love you” check in. And we need to form a united front to defend ourselves from teenage girldom.
Good luck with girldom. It should just be renamed hormones. That still doesn’t make it any easier.
I’m hearin’ ya, and we’re at 13 years.