unemployed, homeless, and frankly on the verge of a separation, so we couldn’t take any chances. We both pushed forward with work because though we may have been oblivious to it before, we now knew our jobs were never guaranteed.
Life was hell. On TV nobody saw what really happened in Philly; you didn’t see me crying into my pillow or staring up at the ceiling all night instead of sleeping. They made it seem like everything was set up for us nice and easy, but that was hardly the case. On TV it looks like we flew to Philly and ended up in this nice penthouse. But that’s certainly not how it happened.
I spent a lot of time alone in Philadelphia with the baby after that, and while I may have thought I was making an effort to have friends and a life there, it just didn’t work. I knew I would be leaving soon, so subconsciously I hardly made an effort. Sadly that had been my mind-set for several years, since I never stayed in one location more than a couple of months at a time. I felt like an outcast, alone in a big city where I didn’t know anyone except for a digital Skype image of my husband a couple minutes per day.
I may have mentally been alone, but physically there were people coming in and out of my apartment all day. I still had a show to film, with or without my husband. Never mind the fact that I didn’t put a lot of effort into friend making; it was virtually impossible anyway given my schedule. We were in a mad scramble to make the show work, given the giant wrench that was just thrown into the overall plan and plot.
In order to make it through the day, I needed to enlist help to do the “dad/husband” things that I just wouldn’t be able to take care of while looking after Hank Jr. and working. We had the dog walkers, and my assistant, Eddie, came over every day (he lived in a hotel across the street) to wake me up and give me coffee and a breakfast burrito from a little café nearby. I don’t miss my Philadelphia situation overall, but if there’s anything I do miss about it it’s the burritos, the coffee, and, of course, the cheesesteaks. Something about a big city like that churns out amazingly greasy and delicious comfort foods.
The baby would wake up around sunrise and I’d feed him. As I woke up, the production team would start filtering into our apartment, setting up tripods and lights and wires, all while I’m trying to get Hank Jr. (oh, and myself too I guess) ready for the day. Then I would put the baby down for a nap, and while he was sleeping, we’d start to film the show. Until, of course, the baby woke up and I had to feed him lunch with the cameras on me. Then the baby went down for his nap again and I had to film; then he’d wake up and I would take him out to Penn’s Landing on the riverfront. He’d crawl on the grass and see ducks, and then I’d rush back to put him down for a nap. While he was napping, I’d do interviews and voice the narration part of the show. That would take us well into five P.M., when he had to eat again. Finally the producers would put the cameras down, and I’d go and mix up his little food or get spaghetti and veggies. I’d blend his food, heat it up, change him, put him in a high chair, call Hank, arrange various things for the house and our life, work, film, and then try to get the baby down for the night, hopefully in the seven-to-eight- P.M. range. After that, for me it should have been pass-out time. But I barely had anything to eat myself because these days were never-ending, so I tried to have a late dinner. I call those days the three weeks of pure hell because this was my schedule for the most part while Hank was gone. At nine P.M. we’d Skype and that would be it for the day.
Ultimately, I decided neither Philly nor Minnesota was right for me and the baby—so we moved back to California.
Of course, the fact that I didn’t have a home to go back to in L.A. was just more great drama for the show, but for me it was just another sad
Life was hell. On TV nobody saw what really happened in Philly; you didn’t see me crying into my pillow or staring up at the ceiling all night instead of sleeping. They made it seem like everything was set up for us nice and easy, but that was hardly the case. On TV it looks like we flew to Philly and ended up in this nice penthouse. But that’s certainly not how it happened.
I spent a lot of time alone in Philadelphia with the baby after that, and while I may have thought I was making an effort to have friends and a life there, it just didn’t work. I knew I would be leaving soon, so subconsciously I hardly made an effort. Sadly that had been my mind-set for several years, since I never stayed in one location more than a couple of months at a time. I felt like an outcast, alone in a big city where I didn’t know anyone except for a digital Skype image of my husband a couple minutes per day.
I may have mentally been alone, but physically there were people coming in and out of my apartment all day. I still had a show to film, with or without my husband. Never mind the fact that I didn’t put a lot of effort into friend making; it was virtually impossible anyway given my schedule. We were in a mad scramble to make the show work, given the giant wrench that was just thrown into the overall plan and plot.
In order to make it through the day, I needed to enlist help to do the “dad/husband” things that I just wouldn’t be able to take care of while looking after Hank Jr. and working. We had the dog walkers, and my assistant, Eddie, came over every day (he lived in a hotel across the street) to wake me up and give me coffee and a breakfast burrito from a little café nearby. I don’t miss my Philadelphia situation overall, but if there’s anything I do miss about it it’s the burritos, the coffee, and, of course, the cheesesteaks. Something about a big city like that churns out amazingly greasy and delicious comfort foods.
The baby would wake up around sunrise and I’d feed him. As I woke up, the production team would start filtering into our apartment, setting up tripods and lights and wires, all while I’m trying to get Hank Jr. (oh, and myself too I guess) ready for the day. Then I would put the baby down for a nap, and while he was sleeping, we’d start to film the show. Until, of course, the baby woke up and I had to feed him lunch with the cameras on me. Then the baby went down for his nap again and I had to film; then he’d wake up and I would take him out to Penn’s Landing on the riverfront. He’d crawl on the grass and see ducks, and then I’d rush back to put him down for a nap. While he was napping, I’d do interviews and voice the narration part of the show. That would take us well into five P.M., when he had to eat again. Finally the producers would put the cameras down, and I’d go and mix up his little food or get spaghetti and veggies. I’d blend his food, heat it up, change him, put him in a high chair, call Hank, arrange various things for the house and our life, work, film, and then try to get the baby down for the night, hopefully in the seven-to-eight- P.M. range. After that, for me it should have been pass-out time. But I barely had anything to eat myself because these days were never-ending, so I tried to have a late dinner. I call those days the three weeks of pure hell because this was my schedule for the most part while Hank was gone. At nine P.M. we’d Skype and that would be it for the day.
Ultimately, I decided neither Philly nor Minnesota was right for me and the baby—so we moved back to California.
Of course, the fact that I didn’t have a home to go back to in L.A. was just more great drama for the show, but for me it was just another sad
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