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The film was a long production, followed by an insane and fruitful awards season.

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Half the nominees onSpider-Man: Into the Spider-Verseare sick, from too much activity.

And we are being emailed lists of events and parties this weekend.

Its hard to imagine being upright by Sunday afternoon.

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7 a.m.: My son tells me over breakfast that hes nervous about the Oscars.

I ask him why, and he says hell be lonely.

Children are very good at making you want to skip everything and stay home.

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I just have to act as though [I] belong.

But then I wont have a seat once I get there?

I file it away.

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11 a.m.: I call my mentor and friend, superagent Sharon Jackson, to complain about my cold.

Should I ask Poehler if you might sit with her?

and, Are you going to theVanity Fairparty?

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Just email Radhika Jones.

I cant just email Radhika Jones!

What do you have to lose?

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She sounds SO REASONABLE.

But Im not emailing Radhika Jones … should I?

My postpartum, squishy, buried-under-drool-soaked-layers back.

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The showroom guy helpfully reassures me that tucking in the fat is just like smoothing out a T-shirt.

I dig up a gift certificate to the spa down the street that advertises a back facial.

Did I mention I just had a baby?

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Do you know it makes your hair fall out?

My whole balding, potbellied hormonal situation is dovetailing nicely with awards season.

You looked terrible the morning after the Globes.

5:45 p.m.: Everyone keeps congratulating me on the nomination, for which I did nothing.

My husband is brilliant.

Maybe Im being congratulated for marrying him, which Ill take.

Friday

6:28 a.m.: Baby yells us awake.

I poke through the gift bag they gave him.

A giant Oscars hoodie, which I will wear and embarrass him forever.

9 a.m.: Oh, I have made a strange mistake.

It sounded like a real snot-clearer!

But now I am wearing full-body mesh Spanx, and Im pinned under a rolling, sucking machine.

You know the industrial carpet cleaners you’re able to rent?

I feel like one is running me over.

It is not relaxing, but it feels like stuff is happening.

Will know (or not know) tomorrow.

12:45 p.m.: My dress arrives.

It still zips, barely.

8:44 p.m.: We arrive at the UTA Oscar Party, at the Sunset Tower Hotel.

We chat with Lee Magiday, who producedThe Favourite.

The extremely hot lady walking around is Kate Beckinsale.

We give a big hug to Marielle Heller, who is then enveloped by a kind-seeming Barry Jenkins.

I warmly greet someone I think I know, but who is actually Jimmy Tatro fromAmerican Vandal.

10:54 p.m.: I drag Rodney out of there because I know the kids will be up at 5.

Hes torn, but the weekend is a marathon.

11:15 p.m.: THE OSCAR TICKETS ARE HERE.

They look so important!

Saturday

5:21 a.m.: Yelling baby alarm!

They know when you go out, and they condition you into never going out again.

She also brings me Foot Petals for my heels Sunday.

Thank you, Broti.

4 p.m.: I dont think Dadas movie is going to win.

You havent even seen it.

Yeah, but my friends like it.

I think we are being punished for the flurry of work events.

He takes it back an hour later, unprompted.

So I go see Robyn.

9:40 p.m.: I am dancing my face off.

12:05 a.m.: I paw through Rodneys gift bag from the party.

They know their demo!

Sunday

5:56 a.m.: Yelling baby alarm!

During her morning feed, I am beset with crippling, frenzied stomach cramps.

11 a.m.: Hair and makeup.

I look a fright.

I dont have time to fix it.

We meet the rest of our party at the W Hotel and head to the theater at 1:30.

Starting around 3 p.m., the intercom pleas to get to our seats get louder and louder.

4:30 p.m.: We sit.

Again, the plus-ones are on the balcony, kind of scattered throughout.

The view is actually great!

I look around for the secret elevator, but sneaking down seems improbable the seats are packed.

I cant just run up and down the aisle at the Oscars, wildly shouting for my husband.

5:04 p.m.: The Queen performance begins and the famous people look like theyrehaving a great time.

6:30 p.m.: Theyre about to announce the animated film awards.

Weve spent the last few weeks with people shouting, Youre definitely going to win!

at Rodney, while we scream, DONT JINX IT.

And now for 30 seconds I have a panic attack.

What if they dont?

Do we just go home?

Its such an honor to be nominated and all, but we didnt rehearse the protocol for devastation.

THEY WIN!!!

And now I cant see Rodney until the awards are over!

Ninety minutes to go.

The team gets paraded around backstage while the plus-ones meet in the lobby for a drink.

While the team does photos and interviews, I go looking for food and seating.

Most of the party stuff is a blur, but the food is not.

We all decide to go to theVanity Fairparty, so everyone has a coffee and piles into cars.

11 p.m.:Vanity Fairparty!

The New YorkTimesmay havedecided its not fun any more, but we have a great time.

Have a great night!

11:45 p.m.: There are a lot of famous people here.

A large number of them are women over six feet tall.

One is Heidi Klum and another is Taylor Swift.

I mention that Im close friends with his producer onAtlanta, Dianne, and he fully squeals.

He takes a cute selfie of us so he can blow her mind.

Hes now not only my favorite actor, but also my favorite person.

12:30 a.m.: I meet Domee Shi, who directedBao.

Shes incredibly talented; her short made me cry.

Cant tell if thats useful or annoying.

We head to the Chateau.

What a rude awakening!

I already know I want eggs Benedict in the morning.

Monday

8:02 a.m.: Its so weird to wake up to no screaming.

The Oscar is on the floor, next to a towel and a crumpled tote bag.

I place him at a more respectful height so we can marvel while we eat our eggs Benedict.

10 a.m.: We call an Uber home.

She screams and nearly slams her brakes.

When we get home, she asks to see it and takes a picture.

She says that one time she met Obama at Roscoes, and now shes seen everything.

She cant wait to tell her sister.

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