An Audition, A Mortified Mother, and a Busted Boy

Where do I start this "gem" of a story. Hmmmm. First I need to tell you that while I may have desired to be a MODEL as a 13 year old teenage girl, as a 35 year old mother, I have long since given up the dream. Still, when our kids modeling agency asked me to audition with my kids for various jobs, the idea of modeling WITH the kids seemed like a cool experience and I was willing to try.


That said, just because I said I'd like to model with my kids does not in any way suggest that I want to audition with my kids. These are 2 entirely different scenarios.


Now, the story.

Glenn is out of town. I was to audition with Emma for a fashion show. Shailey was going to stay home and babysit Jonas. I forgot she had tennis lessons, so I decided to take him with us (mistake numero uno). I thought to myself, "well if I bring his Leapster Batman game and some oreos, his favorite snack, he can sit quietly for the 15 minutes I have to audition" (mistake numero dos).


At the audition, there are glamorous models everywhere... tall, very young, skinny as ever, you know the stereotype, and then there is me, 35 with curves and kids. Enough said. I was slightly intimidated and really wondering why I thought this was a good idea. So I plop Jonas on a leather couch with his bag of goodies and threaten him with his life to sit still (mistake numero tres to think he could actually "sit still").


Soon, it was Emma and my turn to stand in front of the judges. I realize all too quickly that the couch I plopped Jonas on... well it was the very same couch the 2 judges were sitting on (mistake numero quatro). While the judges are scrutinizing Emma and I and making their notes, Jonas is climbing behind them and doing "bunny fingers" behind their heads (I am not kidding). He thinks he is hilarious. I think he is dead meat.

Now Emma and I have to walk the runway, stop, do a classy turn, and walk back in front of the judges. We start walking and the catwalk feels like the longest walk in history and I might as well be walking the plank. We make it to the end, without tripping, just a nice slow walk with my very best posture. I keep saying in my head, "think elegance".


As Emma and I start our turn to head back, from OUT OF NOWHERE, comes a flying torpedo that crashes into my legs and holds on for dear life as if I were a life vest and this was the Titanic. JONAS. He is laughing, I am smiling. I keep walking. He keeps holding onto my leg. I am literally walking the catwalk while dragging a child with me. I smile and whisper for him to let go and tell him he is toast if he does not let go, but he thinks this is still funny. He does not let go. I give up trying to look classy. I look up at the judges who are NOT smiling and who do NOT think this is even remotely cute. I offer a serious "Gomenesai" (the utmost sincere apology) with a bow and a nervous laugh. Eventually he lets go and we are done.


We leave the audition and get on our bikes to go home. I am LIVID. I am the maddest I have ever been at Jonas. I am also mad at myself for thinking I could trust him to sit still. Oh puh-lease! The entire 30 minute bike ride home, I am lecturing and yelling at him and threatening that when we get home he is SO busted. I am going to teach him how to sit still if it means he sits strapped to a chair for hours! I go on and on and on, becoming increasingly mad.

Just before home, I realize that he is awfully quiet back there. Maybe my lecture is sinking in. Maybe he actually feels bad. I look back.... he is completely asleep. He is OUT COLD. Yeah, how do you escape your death sentence? Fall asleep and look like an angel.

I parked my bike and ran upstairs for my camera. Eventually he woke up. Eventually he did have to sit on a chair and learn about sitting still, however the punishment was clearly less severe than originally intended.

And, needless to say, we did NOT get the job. I guess the "child-clinging-to-the-mother's-leg" angle did not really work.


This is the end of this mother's modeling career.