First of all, the stage mom thing is currently all consuming. We found out on Valentines Day that after two callbacks Henry does not look good eating chicken. Bojangles decided to go with another kid actor for their national campaign to eat more fried chicken. I actually never thought Henry should be submitted for chicken eating because he has braces and who wants to see that shit (?), but all said we had to drive to LA three times just to get turned down on Valentines Day.
At some point on Valentines Day Charlie hears me say it is Valentines Day and he asks if it really is Valentines Day in a disbelieving little voice. "What are we going to do for it?"' he muses.
"Nothing," I reply, "we're driving to LA."
"I hate driving to LA," he screams. I shove him in the car with the mobile dvd player. Problem solved.
After three hours of hard, aggressive driving (me whirling dervish style between lanes trying to make the call time) we get there with minutes to spare. I drop Henry at the door and try to find parking, carefully avoiding the block where several dozen junkies congregate. Charlie gets in the front seat and looks green. And then yes, he does. He throws up all over the front seat and dashboard. Happy Valentines Day. Carsick kid. Three hour drive home in a vomit car.
When I get home Frank is already asleep. I carry Charlie in from the car sleeping and sticky.
I shove five chocolates in my mouth and forget to brush my teeth.
We drove up to LA several more times this week and after the fifth day my ass had such a cramp I had to get off the 405 during rush hour and cry. This morning I thought it was all for nothing but then (hooray) at about 4 this afternoon Henry got two callbacks for commercials -- one for Verizon (because he can act like he can text) and one for Cedar Point Amusement Park (because he looks good screaming?). sigh. Next week looks like another butt cramp. If you are wondering wtf with all the commercials, the kids gotta cook a half dozen before theatrical casting will even look at him, or so we're told. That's a lot of fried chicken.
I don't bake or hardly cook anymore. I eat smoothies on the go. I forget holidays and drive like a maniac.
I want my kid to see that if he wants something dreamy he has to work like hell.
And it can get messy and complicated and you only quit if you don't care anymore.
Henry still cares so we are full on in it right now. In the shit. It actually feels pretty damn good. I hope we're not crazy. I really do. My butt says yes but my heart says no. Intuition? Or more likely I just have a soft spot for people with big dreams.
I wonder why I have never been able to work this hard for myself? I have never had such clear headed ambition for anything in my life that concerns my own creative spirit. This blog project for example. mea culpa.
I would love it if you could visit. love love love.
Henry also really misses Peter. They text a lot. We did something good for those two I think. They have a familial bond that we helped set up. nice.
I haven't met anyone in San Diego who can do a Valentine Cookie Drop like you my dear. I miss your bakery love. You do your Grandma proud.