Every year I get so excited for the Oscars. It is my Super Bowl, or more like my Puppy Bowl. I break out the vino and some snacks and sit there and marvel at those otherworldly flawless Hollywood beings. I pull out all of the stops, even undoing the bun off the top of my head for the night; letting my hair flow free like a Mini Highland Cow (Google them, they’re super cute.) Especially this year as a new mom, it’s a treat (dog pun intended).
Here are the top five reasons why I am looking forward to this year’s Oscar festivities.
1). Because they are the opposite of everything I am at this juncture of my life.
So my favorite part about the Oscars has always been ogling the beautiful outfits. I am no fashion maven, by any means. In fact, I am at the opposite end of the spectrum. For instance, my daughter’s name is Vivienne. When I tell people this, I have gotten, “Oh, like Vivienne Westwood.” To that I just say, yep, of course oui oui. I am French and stylish like that. Except…No, not really. Vivienne’s name comes from the Children’s Museum of Manhattan, where, on a visit with my cousin’s son, my Crazy Jewish Mom was taking meticulous mental notes on all the little girls’ names that she heard. You see, I was having a baby girl, and she didn’t like any of the names I had come up with thus far. (“Olive reminds me of Olive Oil.” You get the gist.) She saw a mother chasing after her adorable curly haired girl, shouting, “Vivienne, Vivie, get back here.” I then got a text from my mom at work, “What do you think of the name Vivienne?” And, I loved it, sealing my baby girl’s namesake: Vivienne. Not Westwood, but a random child at the museum.
Since I’m hardly a fashionista, my observation of the red carpet and all the beautiful people lined up is more like scoping out bright candy, or pristine alien creatures. I see Cate Blanchet in a beautiful pastel blue flowery dress, low cut, boobs perky (and she has a million kids! How?) and hair stick straight. Wow, she looks stunning. Then Jennifer Lawrence strides in resembling a chic Barbie, with a sheer low cut dress, feathers draping the bottom. The only time I will be draped in feathers in the near future is when my daughter starts participating in arts and crafts or I decide to be Donald Duck for Halloween. Lupita Nyong’o wearing a light blue deep V Neck dress, walking with such confidence, envy-inducing posture—looking so sophisticated. Then I look down at myself–blue sweatshirt, black Champion shorts, and… is that spitup running down my leg? Nope, definitely not (discreetly rubs that shit in).
As I watch the pre-show festivities, I walk my own imaginary red carpet. Mine would have Joan Rivers, from the grave, hitting me with her typically tough fashion questions: “Dani, what are you wearing today?” Joan would ask, as she holds the microphone directly under my mouth and I strike a pose for the cameras.
“I am wearing my daughter Vivienne (not Westwood) on my lap, and we will accessorize with multiple WubbaNub pacifiers to spruce up our look.”
“How very Lady Gaga of you,” Joan will say, recollecting the Hello Kitty Dress she wore back in ’09, as I offer the camera a little shimmy and a spin.
2). I haven’t seen most of the movies, so it gives me something to look forward to when they come to my apartment television in some form (Netflix, Demand, Apple TV).
With a baby under a year old, you don’t get to the movies too often. Yes, I have heard rumblings about the tradition of the “crybaby matinee,” but I just don’t think it would work for us. You see, I could just picture my daughter getting bored after five minutes, and climbing on me, playing with my hair, oh and my eyelashes. She loves to pull my lashes. Then the babbling would start, and no one would be able to hear anything. We would get booed (or boo hooed) right out of the crybaby matinee.
This is why, so far, within the year she has been outside of the womb, we have ventured to the movies T-minus zero times. So that means that this is the first year I don’t really know any of the nominated films, at all. But that’s really okay. I still have a hunch La La Land will win absolutely everything. And I am excited to see Emma Stone snag her first gold statuette. It will just stir up the anticipation. Did I mention that I. Can. Not. Wait. Till. Everything. Comes. Out. On. Demand?
3). I can do some research for a ceremony of my own.
When my daughter taps her head lightly against a toy and then starts screaming like a complete lunatic and then hysterically crying. I can award her “Best Actress in a Motion Picture: Vivienne Lazar.” Just like how they do it at the Oscars.
When we go to her music class and she sings and claps along, crying, “Mama Dada, ahhhhh,” I can award her “Best Music (Original Score).”
When she pulls on my hair and pieces flow out of my aforementioned bun and she slams her hand into my face (and I close my eyes just in time…phew, eyeball still intact) smearing eyeshadow onto my cheek. Well: “Best Makeup And Hairstyling: Danielle Sherman-Lazar.” Clearly.
4). I will be able to share the celebrity gossip with a special companion.
“Viv, what do you think of Blake’s hair? Her and Ryan are like the Ken and Barbie, prom king and queen, throw-up-inducing too-cute couple of the Oscars–don’t you think?” I picture myself saying, as I dig my hand deep into the popcorn bowl to my left and stuffing the snack into my mouth.
“Doo wa wa,” she answers, as she adjusts her baby arm rolls, which I call her bracelets.
“Totally Agree Viv.” I say emphatically, nodding. “Great point.”
My husband sits there, unresponsive.
This is great.
“Now Viv, it’s time for bed, no afterparties for you. Except for maybe a dream feed later if we’re both feeling wild.”
But the afterparty for this Mama will be completely crazy. Oh yes, Oscar night is a great excuse to have a glass of wine or two, while couch-potatoing in pajamas, with some ice cream at my disposal. And if you are breastfeeding, Ben & Jerry’s has a new flavor that increases milk supply. So while, I increase my blood alcohol level, I can also indulge in a treat that fills up my boobs! High-five to that.
5). Our very own president is obsessed with the color of an Oscar, as in gold (even his skin hue is this color—okay, maybe leaning more toward Oompa Loompa orange) so I think it’s just the American thing to do to watch them.
This may be an alternative fact. See you on the Red Carpet, Oscars 2017. Vivienne (not Westwood) and I are ready for you!
