No, he will not be America's Next Child Star

I went to my first post-baby commercial audition yesterday and you know what? I really haven't missed it. I knew it was going to suck as soon as my agent called.

"HiAlishaThisisJeremyfromBuchwaldDavidhasanauditionforyoutomorrowatnoon. You'llbeplayinganursesopleasewearscrubs."

Scrubs.

Aside from the fact that I haven't gone shopping for clothes since I was pregnant, aside from the fact that I'm still - yes, still - schlumping around in maternity gear, aside from the fact that I don't own a monsterfarting thing that resembles scrubs (I couldn't even find anything that was blue) I was still hoping I could pull something off. In the end, the best I could come up with was a stretched out nursing tee (it was gray which is sort of like blue, sort of) and a pair of chinos that nicely accentuated my post-pregnancy muffin top. I figured I wouldn't be the only one there half-assing it. I mean, who has scrubs?

Apparently EVERY OTHER ACTRESS IN TOWN, that's who.

The waiting room was packed with nurses of every shape, color, and age. In scrubs. Before I could get too self-conscious about my lack of costuming, I noticed a gaggle of women in the corner toting newborns. And I mean newborns - like, weeks old. The women were all eyeing each other, talking in strained, high pitched voices, the kind certain mothers get when they're pretending to be interested in each other's babies but they're really just sizing them up. Just then the casting director came out and, after a quick glance around the room, zeroed in on Will.

"How old is he?" she asked, pointing a clipboard at me.

"Uh, five months."

"How much hair does he have?"

I was pretty sure this was a trick question since Will was sitting right there, so I just made a grand swooping gesture next to his head like he was a refridgerator on The Price Is Right.

"He'll work," she said. "Bring him in."

"Actually," I said, ignoring the suddenly silent herd of stage mommies, "he's not scheduled to audition. I am."

"You're here for it?"

"Uh-huh," I said, smoothing my rumpled tee.

"Oh," she said. "Well, bring him in anyway."

So I did. All I had to do was hold him so they could see the back of his head which took all of five seconds. Unfortunately I still had to audition, and aside from nurses and mommies, nobody else from the spot was there. Which meant we had to wait.

And then Will started to yawn.

At the risk of sounding like one of those mommies - you know, the ones who freak if their child eats sugar or misses their Italian For Toddlers class - naps are a big deal. Before I had a baby I used to hear parents going on and on about their kids' nap schedules and I'd roll my eyes. I mean, it was a frigging nap. Who cared? But as someone who until very recently spent every single day holding her baby during the entire 4+ hours of his naptime and knows that this newfangled napping-in-the-crib thing is tenuous at best, and whose baby will not, not, not sleep in a stroller because New York City is a very exciting place, naptime is sacred. And with Will, naptime is all about rituals and timing. If the rituals or timing are off, naptime goes to shit. And if naptime goes to shit, bedtime goes to shit. And if bedtime goes to shit, my life goes to shit because we all know I do not. do. well. without sleep. All of this must have read on my face because a lovely woman who happened to have the first audition slot offered to let me take her place, which was about the nicest thing anyone has done for me in months. I was thrilled. Unfortunately the casting director was not. After much sighing and scowling on her end (and apologizing on mine), she let me go first. And I suuuucked.

Between thinking about my yawning (soon to be bawling) baby and the complicated, ER-worthy directions, not to mention the fact that I hadn't auditioned in over a year, I was dreadful. I didn't even warrant the "thanks for coming in" kiss of death, I stunk so hard. But I did get Will home before he hit meltdown so that's... something.

I used to think about getting Will into the baby modeling scene but after this, I'm rethinking. Granted, his bit was fine - for him. I just couldn't stand those mothers. It's one thing to have to deal with weird, competitive vibes when they're aimed at you but when they're aimed at your child it's just gross.

Anyway, I'll be over here in this corner banging my head for a bit.