Reentry

reentry

by Lindsay Gallagher on 10/26/2011

The Playboy Club was cancelled a few weeks ago.  It did poorly in the ratings and was expensive to make, so after three weeks on the air, it was canned.  The text I received from Joe the morning after the third show aired read: Cancelled ;-(

For some reason, it was national news.  Must have been trending on the Yahoo home page, must have made The New York Times, because everywhere I went that day, people told me they’d “heard the bad news.”

Joe was bummed – he’d worked hard, the show looked great – he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel.

“I’m happy that daddy will be home soon, but sad that they cancelled his show,” Tess said.

“Well, that’s a good thing, right?”  Ronan said.

This is how I processed the info:

  • I knew it.
  • It will be nice to have Joe home.
  • I can’t believe they only gave it three weeks.
  • Thank God they are finishing the next episode.  I don’t know why they are bothering, but it means two more weeks of work.
  • The weekends will be so much better.  I won’t have choose between the kids.
  • I should have saved more money.
  • I hope he isn’t out of work through Christmas.
  • It’s a good thing we already paid for our Mammoth trip.
  • We eat too much.
  • Why don’t I have a job???
  • Joe can take Ronan to his baseball games.
  • Joe’s going to be in the house, stressed about work.
  • How will I get the kids to do their homework with the distraction?
  • It will all work out.  It has to, right?
  • The kids need braces.
  • We’re screwed.
  • We can always sell the house.
  • Pilot season is just around the corner.
  • The Dow Jones is down 200 points.
  • Ugh.

I used to be laid back about these things, always reassuring Joe and myself that another job will come, maybe a better one that it was “meant to be,” that we will survive.  But it’s harder now.  We have more expenses and obligations.  I never used to be that wife who nagged:  “Did you call your agent yet?”  But I am now.  I worry.  I have regrets.

We are more than a week into reentry and all I can say about it, is that it is a real thing.  Joe arrived home gloomy and on edge.  LA was disgustingly hot – 100 degrees – while back in glorious Chicago all the trees were turning and it was “real” fall.  It took him two days to adjust to the flurry of activity/drama/noise that is Tess.  There wasn’t enough food.  We ran out of  milk, eggs, bread, cookies, pretzels, hummus, blueberries, Advil and toilet paper.  The only thing I thought to add to my shopping list was a nice bottle of Scotch.  There were a few choice fighting words between us.  One was away working his ass off while the other was playing tennis.  One was slaving over the children while the other was out living it up in a bachelor’s pad.  There is just something about reentry that brings out the mean.  An actress once told me that when her husband returned from location, they declared a two week moritorioum on certain words, the top one being “divorce.”  It was good advice.  On the bright side, Joe was instantly devoted to our new pup, Flowers, even though the excitement of his return sparked a peak in potty-training accidents.  The time change worked in our favor.  Often when a show ends, Joe’s been working nights, so reentry involves several days of sleeping-in.  The weekends were tremendously improved.  We divided and conquered.  Ronan broke out of his hitting “slump” with dad back in the bleachers, and has since pleased himself, Joe and his teammates with several home runs.  Tess stopped accusing me of “only caring about Ronan.”  I can once again watch her rehearsals, drive her home in between classes and relax over our 6″ turkey Subway sandwiches instead of forcing her to inhale it in the car. And Job-wise it looks like Joe’s going to be fine.  So thankfully, all those who refused to participate in my spiral-of-woes, were right.

I was pissed about the rollercoaster, but in the end, I don’t think it’s really that much worse for us.  Sure, being at the mercy of the Nielsen ratings sucks, but right now there are very few professions that are care-free, very few people who can just sit back and relax.  And last week, after the dust started to settle, Joe and I even had the time to take in a matinee.

About Lindsay Jamieson

Author of Beautiful Girl, mother of 2, wife of cinematographer, former dancer, snowboarder -- recovered bulimic.
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