About Happiness...

Simply put, our kid has got charisma. Palpable charisma of the JFK/MickJagger/Michael Jordan variety. Yes, he's a baby and yes, everyone loves a joyful baby.  But this is something beyond that. Wherever we go, it's clear – it’s Ravi's world, and we're all just livin' in it. For his part, he appears to dig this arrangement, and the more good energy you throw at him, the greater he amps up his own wattage as if to say, "Ya like? There's more where that came from, ladies and gents!" He has meltdowns, of course, and there are times when he is downright over it, and no amount of goofing or cajoling is going to help.  But at least twice daily I hear from strangers, "Oh, I just love him! He's the happiest baby!"  This is true.  He is an extremely happy baby and his joy is infectious. 

As a kid I was made fun of.  Not that there wasn't stuff to legitimately make fun of...I was an 11 year old with striped corduroy coulots, a gold lame belt and fabric flowers in my "ital-fro." On some level I knew I was a bit of a weirdo when it came to fashion, music -- the externals -- and I was cool with that.  Never much of a "follower," I preferred to do my own thing.  Any insults that came my way based on looks and such, I'm sure stung, but they certainly didn't stay with me.  What I remember being teased the most for?  Being too happy!

I was a really cheery little girl.  I know this by looking at photos of my pint-sized smiling self, from stories told by family members and through my own memories and recollections. I remember genuinely liking life most of the time, and being quite happy. Teachers and parents always seemed to enjoy me, but there were plenty of kids that wanted nothing to do with me.  And when you are a school-aged kid that really sucks.  Even if you have a strong sense of self – which I did have, thanks to my family and the way we related at home -- that kind of treatment is not pleasant.   

So I learned how to dial it back, to make myself smaller.

The crazy thing? Charles had the same experience growing up...mocked for being too happy.  He says that it hardened him at an early age, created a cynicism and an uncertainty that I find kind of heartbreaking. Right now Ravi is like a little bundle of love and light, and although I can't say for sure what will happen as his personality continues to evolve, I have a hunch that an enduring joyful countenance is as much a part of his DNA as the robust thighs, dark brown curls, and dimples on each side of his mouth.

It took me many years to embrace what I thought I had to modulate and temper for the benefit of others.  These days, I couldn’t dial it back if I wanted to. Just like everyone else in his orb, I’m awash in the glow of my 21 lb sidekick.  My cheeks hurt, I smile so much.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

From Hollywood to Mommyhood

The scent of jasmine that hung outside my private bungalow at Chateau Marmont was almost too magnificent to believe, and as I zipped up the back of the H&M dress I was going to try to pass off as vintage Norma Kamali, I inhaled deeply, taking it all in.  In an hour or so, I would be walking the red carpet for the premiere of "The Incredible Hulk," a summer blockbuster in which I had a leading role.  This premiere was without a doubt an important event for me – a high-profile shout-out for a decade worth of dedication to a career that historically sports more downs than ups.  There would be photographs, “live from the carpet” interviews, and parties afterward.  Roots colored, cleavage cradled in La Perla, and false eyelashes the MAC gal had applied earlier, lush and curled to perfection.  (Sidebar: not the $250.00 a lash, real mink perfection sported by Madonna and J.Lo, but the $25.00 a pair, very-best-MAC- has to offer kind.  Hey…good enough for me!) I was  proud of what I had accomplished, and thrilled to be able to share the experience with the people I loved.  I couldn’t have felt more beautiful.

Cut to: Me, earlier tonight. Dried oatmeal in unwashed hair, a nursing bra large enough to house a small litter of newborn kittens, and lashes that just might require those mink falsies in order to regain any semblance of presentability.  And...I couldn’t have felt more beautiful.

Our son Ravi Alexander Cabot-Conyers is now 9 months old.  Everyday is filled with to-the-bone exhaustion and oodles upon oodles of belly-laughs.  There is a tacit understanding that no matter the depth of challenges faced, this life-long commitment to parenting another human will most surely bring the sweetest brand of satisfaction and joy.  Well, I’ve always been up for a good challenge (Did I mention I make my living as an actor?), and I’m a sucker for joy. Since the little guy joined the party, the lens with which I view this world has been unequivocally altered in the most profound and prolific of ways.  Will it change the way I approach the work I do with myself and others?  I'm kinda hoping it does!

Well, we’ll just have to see.   For now…straight ahead.