JANUARY 30, 2008

SWAG KILLS SOULS

I survived Sundance. And five days without Aria. Not only did I survive and make out like a very FAT rat with tons of swag but, and here's the thing: I didn't miss my child. Um, like, really…at all…Okay, look before you call child services on my ass, let me explain:

I have been glued to Aria since day one. With a nanny two times a week, the only times I have been away from her is like…well, basically never. I thought I would for sure—freak out—go into a separation spiral and be on the first plane home the following morning after my arrival filled with dread and longing and self-hatingness for having left alone with her dad and his mom. God knows, I have done that over MEN in the past.

But something miraculous happened. I got up to Sundance and was within minutes so caught up with my superficial schmoozing and swagging, I didn't have a single minute to miss her. I was getting dressed up every day, having my makeup done at my cushy, cozy condo next to a roaring fire three times a day by a MAC artist who always left me with a gift bag! I was going to photo shoots and parties and whoring myself all over that snowy slope. I was in bed at three a.m. every night after hours of playing and partying (which meant smoking cigarettes for me; I cannot drink at sea level without being a total idiot, let alone attempt a glass of vino in high altitude) and nearly having sex with at least one huge hot movie star and an even sexier rapper. In other words, I was having a fucking blast. I forgot I was a mom. I forgot I was a single mom who hasn't had sex in (fill in the blank with the worst imaginable time span here). And thanks to Dr. Weider and my good friends Botox and Juvederm, I (almost but not really) forgot I was f-o-u-r-t-y. In other words, I was FREE. Fucking free. And it felt great.

I could wake up and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee and not have to do anything but check email and read about the latest Sundance gossip in Richard Rushfield's hilarious blogging for the LA TIMES. I didn't have to run to the fridge for MILK! Crackers! Take the dogs out and nearly kill myself getting down the stairs with two dogs and a toddler in arms. I didn't have to do jack shit. Yes, it was like pre-baby times. I found myself stopping in my slushy tracks and thinking, "Wait, do I have a daughter? That is so weird!" There was something totally surreal about it. And the fact that Aria was having a blast with her dad and his mom didn't hurt. I did call every day, several times, but Aria wanted nothing to do with me. Out of sight out of mind, I guess.

All right, so on day four I did indeed decide to go home early, but it was only because I was in swag overload and could not imagine another night of schlepping from party to party in the sub-zero cold. Okay and yes, I did start to miss Aria. I missed smelling her head in bed at night. And I watched every cell phone movie over and over again before I went to bed by myself for the first time in almost two years.

As I got closer to getting home, I was going nuts—just dying to see her. I imagined our reunion. All slo-mo and giggles and big wet kisses. When I opened the door, she ran to the dogs and started yelling their names over and over. She jumped on the couch and yelled COUCH! It was like I hadn't been gone at all. What I now know is that kids (at least the little, little, post-baby ones) live in the moment. They don't understand time and soak up every inch of every second of the perpetual present. I'd love to wrap this up with something about how I too learned this lesson just from hanging with my baby for the past two years and that's why I was able to totally let go and be present up at Sundance, but it feels way too corny. The truth is it felt great to be unburdened of the second-to-second harrowing responsibility of motherhood.

me: swag whore

Check out Emily's upcoming film Chronic Town.