Thursday, March 16, 2006

Babies & Broadway


A few weeks ago, my worst nightmare came true, Broadway called me in to DANCE for an audition. Let’s be clear here…I don’t dance. I am a singer who moves well…but I am not a dancer. I was terrified, and so disappointed because this was a big break for me, and I was unprepared. I had 24 hours to get ready, and I should have been getting ready for the past 24 years.

I decided I would WOW ‘em with my outfit. I went to the dance store in Manhattan and pounced on a young man who looked like he knew what he was doing: Ok, he looked gay. Turns out, he was going to the same audition as me, and he gave me lots of good advice about how NOT to look like a clueless singer. I threw up all my nervous energy on him, and he walked me through basic decisions from which shoes, to what tights, to what color leotard. We decided on a blue (for my eyes)low cut one: work that sexy back …maybe that will distract them from the dance moves.

He was kind of surprised at my nervousness and naïveté, but I explained that I had been busy having babies lately and not really in the groove of a dance audition for a Broadway show. I was worried that my inner-thighs might still be a little incapacitated from the pushing that occurred 9 months earlier.

Anyway, we parted ways to do some changing and trying-on and ended up at the checkout counter together. I said something about Good Luck (I never say break a leg), and that I hoped he did really well and got the part and that it was cool that he was called in (he was just starting out), and he said: “It’s really cool that you have a family.” WOW. He helped me not only with my dumb outfit that day, but also with my perspective.

That night I went home and two crazy girls sat at the dinner table/high chair eating their food and watching me model my new dancewear and try some “moves”. To see the excitement in their eyes and how they looked up to me was amazing. Pukey said: “You look good mom; you look good for the audition.” I am so lucky to have two little best friends, and that they can already make me feel good about myself, whether I stumble, I mean dance, I mean MOVE my way onto Broadway or not.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Oh My Oh My Oh Pukasaurs!

Okay so it was only one Pukasaur, but she puked enough to be made plural.My day started with a weird smell. It was a smell of puke. You know when you smell dog crap and you keep smelling it and wonder where that is coming from and finally realize the reason it is NOT going away is because you STEPPED in it. I sort of had that feeling...like "Did I Step in puke and not notice it?" Eventually the smell went away. Turns out it was a foreshadowing of events to come.

Picture this: I am sitting in the two seater (Thank Heavens) of the subway next to daughter #1 (almost 4) with daughter #2 (10 mos.) on my lap. We are on our way to a casting call that involves all three of us-this is a rarity and D1 is excited. She has recently shown an interest in following in my footsteps. D1 gets sleepy as the casting is SMACK dab in the middle of naptime (of course), and lays down on my lap. Some noisy kids talking with too many obscenities enter the car and she sits up complaining of their talking. I start singing a hymn to counter the obscenities and then it happens.

All this in slow motion: My tummy hurts. BLAGH. All over my coat. BLAGH. All over her coat. BLAGH. All over the seat. By this time I have her standing up. BLAGH. All over the floor. I have her step out of the way and while I am trying to figure out what just happened and then how I am going to deal with it, there is one more BLAGH. So now it is all over the two of us, the seat and the floor. HOLY MOTHER OF PUKE.

I see that the entire car full of riders is looking at me with that look. I say: Who's going to hold the baby? A nice lady volunteers. Then I survey what is in my diaper bag: a pocket pack of kleenex, a burp cloth, a few small bibs and one diaper...all of which I was willing to sacrifice, but where to put the soiled items? Yes ladies, there are no wipes. Who knows why. My next question to the crowd: Does anyone have a plastic bag? I ask this twice. I end up with a grocery sak and an umbrella cover.

Cleaning commences. D2 is content with whoever has her, D1 is still standing exactly where I left her...COVERED. I first clean up myself (thank you nylon coat) it comes right off. Then I start on the seat. At this point people from the car are depositing their various packets of travel kleenex and random fast food napkins. BLESS THEM. I seriously would have run off the train. Maybe NOT if it was a mother. Then the gagging begins. I start an outloud mantra: I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I breathe..but not too deep b/c I don't want to smell it. Then I clean up D1. Again the fabric was forgiving but not the fluffy cuffs and hood...yuk. D1 finally says: "Mom, I throwed up because I ate too much." I have no recollection of my response...I think it was: "I can do this." Lady who grabbed D2 has now handed her off and bless her soul is gathering the chunks with me.

We finish the task in probably only 3 or 4 stops. She then bestows us both with some anti-bac gel which I slather on my hands and on the seat. I sit D1 back down, retrieve D2 and second holder of D2 takes the bag full of puke and throws it out for me on her way to wherever she was going. I am surprised I did not cry. I guess gagging is worse. I kissed that sweet D1 and said: Do you want to go home or go to the audition (we were almost there after all). She said in her sweet little just-thrown-up voice: Audition. Ahhh...a girl after my own heart. What a trooper. And I mean the BOTH of us.