The Oscars. Perhaps my favorite day of the entire year. Anyone who knows me well knows that I love the Academy Awards… That I watch them from top to bottom without missing a frame (literally, I want to hear every last bit of the dude who wins for Best Sound Mixing speech). I love the glitz. I love the glamour. I love the chips, dip and wine that I have grown accustomed to noshing on as I watch Ryan Seacrest ask retarded questions to celebrities that act like they just slipped on that Valentino dress without having a team of bitchy stylists help stuff them into their spanks.
Well, this year, there was no Oscar watching party for me. I wasn’t with my gays or even my gals. I wasn’t even on the phone every two minutes bashing someone’s dress. In fact, I even fast fowarded it (gasp) to get to the best picture winner, and didn’t even watch their final acceptance speech (double gasp!) I mean, this year was OFF. Off in a major way. And I felt it. Felt it in my bones. Literally. You see, on Oscar Sunday, I had the flu. But not only did I have the flu, but my husband AND our 5 month old baby had it too. So with three out of three people in our house sick, something had to give, and unfortunately, it was my beloved Oscars.
As I bounced on the workout ball trying to console my feverish son, while trying to not to let my own runny nose drip on to his shoulder, I watched the Oscars with a different point of view than I normally do. It wasn’t the usual ‘I wish I was an ex stripper who suddenly became an Academy award winner’ or ‘I wish I was a cocktail waitress in Vegas and George Clooney fell in love with me’ envy. Instead, I was re-evaluating my Acceptance Speech, the speech that I give every year in my head as I watch the awards. The speech that I used to say out loud when I was a little girl (in a British accent. Don’t ask.) accepting my Academy Award for Best Whatever. Then I would (in my head) sit down for my interview with Barbara Walters and tell her, ever so humbly, about the fortunes in my life- the loves, the losses, the desires and the many babies and countries that I was single handedly saving in the world.
But this year, imagination and fantasy was too hard for even crazy me to muster up. I was stuck in the present and in the reality of now. NOW I HAVE A SICK BABY. And with that, the sense of motherhood and all that it entails struck a major chord. Instead of wallowing though in what I was missing, I realized that I could still have a speech. I don’t have to give up my acceptance speech. In fact, it’s an ACCEPTANCE ACCEPTANCE SPEECH…..
Here are just some of the things that I accept:
I accept that this year, I have only seen two of the nominated films. Ratatouille being one of them.
I accept that (even in my fantasy) instead of a Chanel gown designed entirely for me, I’m wearing vintage Target pajama bottoms with a hole in the crotch.
I accept the fact that the only cocktail I’m having this evening is an Airborne and Water cocktail with a twist of chamomile tea.
I accept the fact that my precious baby, so small and delicate, due to congestion, is now snoring like a fucking truck driver.
I accept the fact that my sweet husband, loveable and kind, sounds like he’s going to lose a lung if he hawks one more luggee.
I accept that the color of the baby’s poop is more important than the color of Heidi Klum’s dress.
I accept that the shower will not miss me, even if I don’t use it for another day.
I accept that the only “after-partying” I’ll be doing will be in a nursery, administering baby Tylenol.
I ACCEPT THAT MY BIGGEST FANTASY OF ALL, IS NOW A REALITY: I am a Mommy, and I humbly accept this REWARD.