Mommies Paradise

We have started That Baby on the rounds. The Rounds meaning the tour of talent agencies in town. Yes, yes, as if my experiences in the acting world haven’t been lesson enough, we have decided to get That Baby working too. Maybe one of us will make some money back on this gig.

I took the pictures of That Baby frolicking in the park. I even used the good camera, with the lenses. I sent those pictures of That Baby frolicking in the park out to the local kids talent agencies. One called. That’s OKAY! I will send MORE! They will all soon see how adorable That Baby is while frolicking in the park! I digress.

We arrived at the agency who called, along with a herd of other parents, who apparently thought that those babies were also adorable while frolicking in their own park. Hmph! Understand that I have promised myself that I am above being a “stage mom.” They are strange people who are more ferocious in a casting office than an adult actor, or rabid mother wolf. More things that may be falling off The List of Things I Won’t Do as a Parent. I told myself that if this agent didn’t work out, we would just keep “shopping” around until we found a good agent who would work out.

That Baby and I were whisked into the agents office with the rest of the other babies and parents. The agent went to each baby and picked each of them up and giggled with them, blah. All the while, That Baby is running from stroller to stroller, baby to baby, mommy to mommy touching everyone and inspecting things.

Then she came to That Baby. And the little voice in my mind said “This is it! She is going to see him (he is adorable - other people say so! NO, they are NOT lying!) and just cooo!” and she comes up to him and he runs into my legs and won’t let her touch him! He spins around in circles between my crouching legs every time she tries to touch him. Now, the little voice in my head is screaming “He doesn’t like strangers but give him a second and he will warm up to you! Come on! What are you looking for lady? Does he have to go to strangers? Isn’t it enough that he is cute as a button? Tell me what you want and I will MAKE him do it….! ah. uh oh..” As I was trying to get That Baby to stop with the windmill routine, she just quietly said “That’s okay, that’s okay. Let him go.” And then the little voice in my head said “But… but… oh.”

And so, I piled him back into his stroller. I looked back at the agent and the “voice” said “Ask her what she wants! Tell her how talented he is!…” Shut up Voice! And we left. We won’t be hearing from her, I bet. And I felt worse than if it had been me getting rejected at an audition. I was enraged, and hurt and *gasp* desperate for them to love him!

As we left, the waiting room was also swamped with older kids for representation. When I say “older” I will guess that they were possibly 12ish. I say “I guess” because I saw pre-teen girls dressed in clothes that no self respecting stripper would wear and enough make-up to give Tammy Fay a run for her money. Twelve year olds should not need a Playboy wax to wear a skirt. And who was next to them? Mom. I had to stop myself from running up to “MOM” and shaking her, and screaming “Are you pimping out your daughter??? She is twelve! OH MY GAWD! Here is wipe! Clean her up before they see her!” I know, I know. Some of you out there are probably saying “Well, that is the business! Just a bunch of pimps and whores…. girls have to sell themselves with sex to make it, blah, blah, blah…” And you’re right, maybe. I have been in this business for long enough to know that women have to use more to get there, and anyone who says differently is dilusional. The industry is saturated with over made-up girls wearing belts passing as skirts, and in my opinion they aren’t making enough money for the chill (I know, I know, every feminist in town is cursing me and calling me names for insisting that girls/women should just get paid more for their trouble). But this was extreme and shocking. And I don’t shock easily. Possibly more-so because their parents supported it. Nay, promoted it.

So, off we go into the abyss that is the Industry.

News Flash! There is band of brigands breaking into houses in Bel Air and the surrounding hillside neighborhoods, and robbing them of their fancy cars by thwarting the alarm systems, the channel 4 nightly news reported on Monday night.

Now, throughout time, the local news has always gone out and found some person “on the scene.” Usually, these people are missing their front teeth or pieces of their hair, or more fascinating, they don’t speak in the language currently being broadcast. The guy they found to comment on this particular event was a true neighborhood crime fighter. Bel Air Resident, Gabe Polsky. He informed us that “…people around here have money ya’ know, and they have nice things uh… (hurriedly) or so these people THINK (*in case the thieves are watching*) …”I am not worried. I bought a couple of tazers uhh… and uhh… I have a machete, ya know, in my place, so uhh…. they come in, ya know, the guy is gonna be injured…” Ah.

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I should probably write in this journal more often. How can I expect to welcome visitors if I have said nothing new? I have discovered, that I have nothing to talk about, except of course That Baby. 24/7 That Baby. But That Baby is only funny if you can actually see all of the wonderful, hysterical, amazing and goofy things he is constantly doing.

Today he shut his bedroom door (a relatively new discovery) and yelled until I came and opened it (he can’t quite work the knob yet). And when I would start to open the door he would run away from the door and then when it opened, run out at me and hug my knees and then stick his head between my calves, giggling, of course, and then fall down. No, not really entertaining to the average journal voyeur, but really funny if you were the one opening the door.

Sometimes, when I won’t let him do something (like get into the trash), or eat something nasty (like something he has rescued from the trash) he will throw these tantrums. They usually include That Baby screaming really loud until he vibrates and turns red, followed by That Baby throwing his own body to the ground - face first and continuing with said screaming. Sometimes, for extra entertainment, he will hit himself or pull his own hair, and then glare at me as if to say “See what you made me do???” Ahhh… That Baby. Grin.