When I started this blog, I had no idea how many amazing people I would “meet” through it. Then I started reading other blogs, most of which are written by people similar to myself. But I feel like I know a celebrity, you guys. Christine is an actual New York musical theater actor. Okay, so I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing her in action, but still….how many New York actors did I know before? ZERO.

But Christine is down to earth, kind, beautiful, and smart. She writes at Quasi Agitato (which means “as if or almost agitated” in music terminology) about her life in Brooklyn with her husband and two kids. I find her pictures and stories completely fascinating, because she really makes you feel and experience city life for yourself….even a rural Kansan like me.

One thing we do have in common, though, is that Christine is also hopelessly addicted to Instagram. She takes beautiful pictures, unlike me, who chooses quantity over quality. If you’re there, follow her and get your own city experience. You can also check out her blog (where she regularly links up with  #iPPP!), like her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter, and check out her pins on Pinterest.

In Pursuit of Gravy.

It comes back.

There was more than a hint of warning in her voice.

It was early 2003 and I was standing in a room full of actors for the first time since having my son eight months prior. I was also, for the first time ever, in a room full of actors that were also parents. A smallish, clandestine club whose membership I wasn’t sure I deserved or even desired.

This was the first time since my son’s birth that my two worlds had collided. Those being the world I left behind, theatre, and the world I was still learning to navigate, parenthood. Frankly, I was pretty uncomfortable. In the process of putting some of my awkward thoughts into words I said:

I can’t imagine being in a show right now. I can’t imagine wanting to be anyone else.

To which this woman-I-didn’t-know-from-Adam replied:

It comes back.

My thankfully-unspoken response to that was:

Well, it won’t for me. Bitch.

It irks me when someone tries to tell me “what’s really going on with me” or how I’ll “look back on this in the future.” [Note to self: Figure out why you are willing to pay someone, AKA a therapist, big bucks to do exactly that thing you hate so much.]

Pet peeves aside, the real reason her words made the hair on the back of my neck stand up was that I was afraid they were true. I was just beginning to have the faintest of inklings that motherhood was not the elixir I had expected it to be. And I was not happy about it.

When my husband and I decided to start a family, I had a long, hard conversation with myself about whether or not I could continue acting once I became a mother. As much as I didn’t want to give up on my dream, it just didn’t seem practical. I had to work very hard for every job I got. Jobs that often paid very little and/or took me out of town. I didn’t have people working for me, promoting my career. I was doing it all myself. Which made me both incredibly proud and utterly exhausted. I had expected to be further along in my career by the time I wanted children. The reality hit me pretty hard.

In the end, I decided to say goodbye to acting. I didn’t know anything about embracing the “grey areas of life” yet. That came with parenthood. I was still an all-or-nothing kind of gal so I decided I was done. This was certainly not the first time I’d considered leaving “the business.” But, in the past, it always felt like I was giving up. Motherhood allowed me to see it within the framework of moving on which was much more appealing. I expected to be perfectly happy as a mom who used to be an actress.

Except, I wasn’t. For years, I fought it. I fought like hell. I looked so hard for something, anything, to fill that hole. I tried my hand at making jewelry, heading up the PTA at my son’s school, fundraising for a local theatre company, blogging.

But nothing stuck. They all felt like hobbies. When they didn’t come easily, my commitment waivered almost immediately. After which I saw them for what they were. Distractions.

What I am, at my core, is an actress. In spite of myself. If I’m going to try to do ANOTHER thing that’s hard (in addition to motherhood) it’s going to be theatre. It’s the only pursuit that feels worth the effort. I never expected, at the age of 43, to be looking for a way back into such a challenging and competitive world. But, I am. I’m writing my first play, submitting headshots for auditions, taking classes. In many ways, it feels like starting over. But with some prior knowledge, a little more experience and, thankfully, a lot more balance. I don’t expect getting or not getting a job to mean what it used to mean. Employed or not, my family will be there to round out my day. There are dinners to be made. Baths to be run. Books to be read.

What comes on top of that is commonly called “gravy.” I can go with this analogy if we think of gravy the way Southerners think of gravy. They take their gravy pretty seriously. Of course, there may not be gravy at every meal, and that’s OK. But I’ve learned that leaving room for it on my plate is absolutely essential.