Suffragette: Movies and Motherhood

Man I have changed! 

I used to be the girl who watched three films a the theater! Now getting me out of the house is like an act of God. When Z is with me anxiety follows me around like a mean shadow. She's fussy and unpredictable after 4pm so I'd rather stay in. I've made my peace with being a recluse. If it keeps me from twitching in a corner I'm down for just about anything. 

Kind friends have listened to me explain this and have suggested I play without her, but that brings on a whole other set of anxieties... There's the issue of her being exclusively breast fed and me having a limited supply of milk to give her nanny each day (translation: I can't be away from her during her evening feeding hours) and then pumping in public just freaks me out. The boobs fill up and out pops that good ole anxiety shadow to remind me my life is not what it used to be. Basically she may not physically be with me...but homegirl is with me; crawling all over my thoughts and nerves.

Still a friend managed to nudge me enough to get me out on a Monday night for a special screening of the movie, Suffragette. An act of God...and so I trudged over the hill to the land of pretty people who stay up late.

I won't lie. I stressed about it all day, but the minute I arrived at the hotel (where the movie was screening) my worries subsided...because I saw free wine and champagne at the bar...and popcorn...and peanut butter cups. 

That film though...

So Suffragette was amazing. The gist of the film: A woman named Maud finds her inner feminist; sacrificing her professional and personal life in the process. She meets some amazing women who inspire and help her find her voice and the courage to keep going. It's heart wrenching and endearing and inspiring and visually outstanding. I love historical pieces that pack huge relevant and current punches and this story did just that. It was about working class women who helped change the direction of the movement. Maud was a mix of many women's stories from that specific period of time within the movement which leads me to the whole representation part...fiction and fact. 

The writer, Abi Morgan (who attended the screening and stayed for a Q and A) discussed the amount of research and time that went into writing this film. Her and the director put up a case for why there were no people of color. (I just loved that it was the first question the audience asked concerning the film. Go Film Independent alum!) 

Usually the excuses leave me with permanent butt twitches, but I respected their choice to tell the stories of a very specific neighborhood. (Research will shut me up for a brief time.) Yes, it would have been nice to tell the stories of the women color and nobility who the writer was able to find information on; but the film wasn't about the fancy folks preaching from comfortable perches in society. Fair enough...for now. Just don't get me started on the damn shirts used to promote the film. 

Keeping focused... 

The film. I just kept thinking how far we've come, yet not. Let's keep it real. We women are still fighting the equality battle... and while some of the atrocities you'll see in this movie will make you thankful you live in 2015 you'll also be pissed that you live in the year 2015 and STILL have to deal with the same bull shit. That damn glass ceiling...equal pay...civil law. There were so many moments that made me think of my daughter. Sooo many moments that made me wish she was with me. Nothing like a good feminist flick to make you appreciate yet fear for the tiny girl you've sworn to protect. 

Which brings up another crazy point and the reason I wanted to write this post. My whole life I've watched films and found personal connections to characters. I've always thought of myself and put myself into the situation. This was the first film I watched that left me thinking of my daughter. If she were in those situations... Is this what folks mean when they say having a child is deciding to have your heart go walking outside of your body? I get it now. Lightbulb moment.

I will be purchasing this film when it comes out on DVD. It's one of those great stories that you need to share with all the phenomenal women in your life.

I'm glad I pulled I womaned up and headed out for that event. I swear movies find you at just the right time...much like books. I'm thankful I know more about the movement. The Hollywood on the other hand... I didn't stay at the after party for long. There were some super talented and interesting writers, producers and directors, but for the first time I didn't have networking desperation. I spoke. I ate. I sipped sparkling water and hugged my friend Reena who invited me out and then I reserved my desperation for the exit strategy. I just needed to get home to my girl. Yes, I came home to a crying baby who needed her mama, but I was so thankful she woke so I could hold her and hug all the hopes I have for her into her squishy little body.

I have totally changed.

Trust in God - she will provide. ~ Emmeline Pankhurst

Embracing Gassy. Boom.


I filmed this commercial a while back and it hits the television world soon. I've never been so happy proud to see myself embracing gas. (And I embrace a LOT of gas.) 

Little tiny baby steps to a career in acting. Now if I could just get the callback I've been waiting for all week. 

Fingers crossed,

Tish (AKA The Queen of Gas)

Immune to Luck and Frolicking in the Fears

Z and I have a new routine: she gets fussy around a certain time every day so we go on a three mile walk around the hood and all becomes right with the world. Except lately sleep hasn't come so easy to the kid and thus for me. I'm physically and mentally exhausted. Couple that with some good old fashioned audition disappointment and you've got some depressed ass mama on your hands.

I swear I thought I had this last audition. The lines came super easy. I had energy. My face decided to be nice and not explode in raging hormonal acne. I was happy. I felt alive. Then I waited all that night for my obvious callback, but no one called.

(I swear waiting for your agent to call is the worst kind of wait. It's worse than ten thousand rounds of waiting for a guy to call after a first date.)

So yeah... I've been feeling mighty defeated. And scared! Don't forget the fear! Crippling fear that I won't be able to provide for my daughter doing what I love and have always wanted to do in this world. Fear that we'll rent for the rest of our lives. Fear that I'll be sitting in the same desk chair dealing with the same damn problems.

Dude! I need serious magic. I'm pretty sure I'm immune to luck. The mom readers may relate to this next bit. I get serious anxiety when I look on my social media accounts and see nothing but baby pics. My kid is the only thing I have going on in my life right now. That is scary.

This post's timing I swear. Let's discuss the things that terrify us most the week of Halloween. Skip the slasher films. A dead end job chills me to my bone.

This is a typical day (via Snapchat) in the life of me, the actor. I kept this one because I just knew I'd get the part and want to save the moments leading up to the win. Ho hum...

Poetic Farts: How Amy Brenneman Became My Shero


It's been so long since I've written anything resembling a coherent thought I kind of forgot if I could write at all...which is why it's ironic as hell that I ended up at a gathering for Hollywood writers.  

To be perfectly honest I didn't know it was a meeting for writers talking about writing. I thought it was a Hollywood screenwriter bringing in Amy Brenneman (an actor I LOVE) to talk all things Hollywood. 

Bit of background info: I've had this weird stalkerish relationship with my acting dreams for months now. I've loved my dream, but without knowing it...without being in it. I've just moped about; wondering if it'll ever happen; staring at it creepily from my couch. I have sucked at being an actor in pursuit. I hate going to auditions because I have to pump all the dang time and I have my kid to think about...I can't be away for long periods of time (like an hour and a half...otherwise my boobs explode. It's super fun.) I'm basically tied to my house and my neighborhood...I wear an invisible baby tracker that keeps me tethered to Z. I know it's worth it because I've chosen to take care of my kid via the boob, but I still get bummed that acting has taken such a considerable back seat. 

Which brings me back to Amy. So I'm just minding my business in my coffee shop when I see this flyer for a speaker series featuring her and since I've loved her work for years and years I signed up without even really reading what she'd be gabbing about. Blind has its moments.

It would be in my would expose me to some Hollywood magic hopefully. SIGN ME UP! 

Mark came home early from work. I fed the kid and off I went praying she'd sleep the whole time I was gone. 

I arrived at the coffee shop and the folks were running a half hour behind. I swear my knockers filled up with half a gallon of milk in just the seconds it took me to figure out I wouldn't be home by the time I specified. That is why my life is one big broken dream right now. I can't even focus or enjoy anything outside of feeding my kid. Not even Amy Brenneman. No one tells you this when you decide to start nursing. 

Luckily when Amy and Peter began talking they brought the awesome. She was plopping out so many inspirational nuggets my head starting spinning. She briefly discussed how writing took a backseat when she needed to raise her family...she spoke candidly about vultures who had screwed her in the business...she talked about her process. She shared the good good, y'all. 

I found myself forgetting all things boob and laughing at the great shit coming out of her mouth. Like for instance a team of writers took partial credit for her Judging Amy idea so she now "can't even fart without running to get it registered." (I snort laughed when she said that...and also when she said fuck over and over again. God! I love a woman who cusses! Homegirl went to Harvard. Smart women cuss.)

I left the coffee shop with a spark of hope that someday it could happen...I could actually make something of myself in Hollywood. This woman has enjoyed a rather idyllic career in the industry and she doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. I just have to remember the sage advice she shared: 

  • Collect with abandon and then prune
  • Be comfortable in your own bones
  • Register your damn work or leave a digital trail that proves your work
  • Write like a poet...(I asked her how she found brain power during the early years of motherhood. She said she wrote like a poet...bits and pieces of thoughts that years later would find their way into larger ideas. 
I may not be a writer, but I'm definitely a collaborator and frankly; the industry sucks ASS right now so if I'm not wiggling my way into the business based off of work I've created for myself I may never get in. 

So what now? Well, I go back to mama life...and commercial auditions... and I write like a mother fucking poet. We'll see where this newfound approach takes me. 

Baby Steps to Sleep: Part II of Team No Sleep


Oh happy day... Oh happy day. Queue Lauren Hill!

Yep, there is a happy follow up to that sad, sad song I was once singing. The baby is learning to put herself to sleep. Hall-la-frickin-lu-yaaaaaa! I think it's funny that I was so distraught and sick over the idea of teaching my baby to put her own darn self to sleep. 

I thought only monsters would allow such a thing. Of course I should put her to sleep and rock the shit out of the girl for hours on end...until it turned into hours and hours for months and months and I hit the proverbial rock so hard I was screaming not so proverbial nice words at 2 in the morning. 

Now we get her ready for bed...from bath to bed is an hour process and then we get actual grown time to eat and play and be frickin merry. 

Life is better. 

Last night she slept a five hour stretch and I about lost my darn mind. I had to get up and pump because my lady parts weren't used to going so long without a snack. WORTH IT THOUGH! 

It's weird how life just calmed. I'm gonna love it up while it lasts! Look out for part III when Miss Thing starts teething. Having a baby is some kind of adventure, yo!

Sleep Regression. Otherwise Known as Hell on Earth


If you can't see the video, go here foo. 

I don't know why I thought making a video would somehow be easier than writing. I had to wait four days to get some damn sleep before I could even begin to process the idea that I would have to then edit said video.

(It ain't Snapchat after all!)

A couple of days later...after quite a few tearful meltdowns I have the beginnings of a sleep journey documented. I'm laughing as I type this because the pessimist in me keeps slapping me stupid and reminding me that I don't really believe Z is in a phase. I kind of think she's going to take 20 minute crap naps her entire life. She'll be 20 years old, still sleeping only 20 minutes at a time, living at home and asking me if she can nurse.

I may be losing sleep, but I haven't lost my sense of humor. (I think. Everything hurts so I may have and just not felt that yet.)

The sleep trainer is calling us today. I might cry because I'm totally waiting for her to say "Oh this kid is hopeless! I've never seen someone this wound up and clearly gone. You've rocked her and nursed her to sleep?! You've ruined all chances of her self soothing!"

Hopefully she comes in like Super Nanny and saves the day. I had a dream this morning (she actually slept for TWO WHOLE HOURS!) and in that dream I was Super Mom and I had the power to magically scan Z's body for ailments so that I would know why the fuck she keeps waking.


"She's wet."


"Her eczema is flaring up!"


"She's teething!"

Wouldn't THAT be grand.

... wish us luck.


One dazed and confused walking zombie.

ps can we all just ignore the weird thing on my lip in part of the video? Who knows what it was... a chili flake, baby poop. This is motherhood in all its glory. Lets just chalk up to life in the trenches and call it a mother truckin' day.

Rebel in the Open

I'm back...sporadically (queue the scene from Clueless!) and I have so many thoughts and feelings and things I've been meaning to share, but there's too much and the hole/window to release all those things is super small right now. Instead, I share this article that made my heart swell.

I love messages like this. I print them out and neatly fold them into Z's baby book for her to read when she's older.

This one in particular was near and dear to my heart because it reminds me of something my Grandma Mary has always shared. When I was younger and filled with a precocious need to tease her I'd end our visits with, "Now remember to be good."

She'd pull away from me with a look of disappointment and say, "Oh Tish...never tell a woman to be good. Where's the fun in being good?"

She was and is still a wise, wonderful and witty woman. AGREED! Where is the fun in limiting girls that way? Now that I'm older and have a spunky little nugget of my own I'm much more sensitive to what my daughter hears...what she learns. The messages that float around have to be positive and clear.

It's a harsh world out there for our girls...we have to fight like crazy to build them up so that when Society the Bully comes a'knocking (and it will) they're ready and able.

Rebel in the open, women!

Luv and Kiwi,


Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes. Turn And Face The Strain

...So it feels like it's been a million years since I've visited my dear old blog. Eons since I've picked up a pen or had the quiet moments to sit and process some dang thoughts about my life as it is now.

The struggle, currently? Balancing the internal me that's never changed with the external predicaments that come with having a baby. Como say what, you ask? What's changed?

Well, I still google like a mother trucker, but now it's crap like "Is my baby going to die because she has crap in her nose? How do I get said crap out of her nose? What's the best nursing bra? How do I get my boobs to stop hurting when I start working out?"

I so miss the days when googling entailed finding out what the Kardashians were up to...

I also physically look different. I'm bigger on top and have a soft belly now. I wear the same four outfits that are conducive to flashing a certain chunk a boob when she sees fit. My skin is different and my hair is a frazzled, hot mess. I just don't have the energy for makeup and hair gel. Who knew squirting crap in your hand took so much energy...

I go to bed at frickin' 7:30. If I'm up at 8:30 it feels like midnight and I'm hurting...mighty bad.

I can't go super far from my kid...she feeds A LOT (have I mentioned that before?!) and hates the bottle. You have no idea how happy I'll be when she starts eating solids. Everyone says I'll miss the constant feedings but I miss the days when I could get lost in a Barnes and Noble for a couple hours without worrying if I was killing my child slowly by puttering around the fiction aisle.

I eat like a beast. It's not cool to watch... I went to a two year old's party recently and had two helpings of cake, a sandwich, veggies, cookies... I just kept going back and back..and back. I'm sure people were side eyeing me. Move over kiddies! Mama needs to eat!

With all the weirdness I have little time to see if the old me is still in there doing ok. I'm hoping that me is just biding time. I know I'm getting an itch to audition again, which is good, but I'm terrified of jobs that would take me out of town.

We're supposedly out of the fourth trimester...meaning things are supposed to ease up a bit, but my wonderful Miss Z hasn't gotten the memo. Or maybe that was all an urban myth to give me the strength to carry on...

Only time will tell.

I'm back at work now so I SHOULD have more time to write. That being said I have to have something groovy to write about. I'm okay with life drifting by quietly and nicely... with sprinkles of awesome news circling around acting gigs and Z milestones.

I have no idea how to end this so I'll do so awkwardly. That's it. I have nothing more to say. [She turns abruptly and walks away.]

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