#29: Looking glass

As I was hurriedly zipping up my "classical musical theatre audition dress" and humming in that annoying way we actors do when we have a callback and are trying to keep our vocal chords warm, a young girl sat down in the chair across from me. She was impossibly small and was further dwarfed by the gigantic armchair. She slumped further in the chair, her glittered pink sneakers still not reaching the end of the seat cushion. I was shuffling my music around in my book and her pigtailed head was lowered as she stared at her feet.

"I have troubles too."

My head snapped up in surprise at the small voice. "Oh?" I said, "...What are they?" Still not meeting my gaze she replied, "I don't know why my mom missed my show today." 
Ah, yes, I thought. The classic "dad never came to my little league games" scenario, as illustrated in such movies as "Hook." 
"I bet she tried her best to make it," I said.
"She's stuck in traffic. She would've liked the pretty lights."
"Those are my favorite part, too" I smiled, "I bet you were great." I had been in a hurry to line-up for my callback, but I found myself charmed by her sincerity; by the fact that while my mind was juggling Philly Car Share reservations, dance combinations, 16 bar cuts, first grade curriculum, sign language, the fact that PECO still refuses to send me my bills, and trying to keep up with the constant inconsistency, this was indeed her biggest problem and clearly more important than mine.
"I live very far away from my mommy and daddy, and sometimes they can't come see my shows. Sometimes, it helps if I sing a song for them when I go home so they can see what they missed," I said coming down to her level. "I bet your mom would really like that." 
If it provided her with any comfort, I'm not sure. But, I hope she remembers a time when THIS was her biggest problem with this industry, and before it was an industry at all. 

"Ryan: They're baked with love!
KB: Oh! I've been baking mine with racism..."~Ryan on why his brownies are better than mine.

#28: Back to the Blog

A wise friend of mine once said, "Kids are much funnier if you just think of them as drunk adults." This is never as true as when you work in a kids gym. First, you have the clumsy drunk. It's easy to see the parallels between the kid who gets so excited he runs off the edge of the balance beam, and that girl in the bar who runs into the door post. Then, we have the daring drunk. The 13-month old who steps to the edge of the platform and dives face first into the matt below is not unlike the dude at the concert who tries to crowd surf into no one. My favorite, the loving drunk, makes friends with everyone. There are children who are prone to hugging other babies who aren't old enough to realize that the things around them are friends and not pets. This is not unlike the many girls at the bar who have sworn they are "Oh-my-gah-totally-gonna-be-best-friends".And of course, we are all familiar with the emotional drunk. Known to burst into tears when I take the parachute away or start slugging at the toddler who stole his sippy cup, this is the most dangerous of the children. One might liken him to the guy who got thrown out of Coco's the other night, or the girl sitting in a puddle of tears becuase she caught Candy making out with her guido boyfriend. Perhaps Ponce de Leon was looking for the fountain of youth in all the wrong places. He need only look to the bottom of his bottle. 

"I love that you call it a fire pit. It sounds like there should be dinosaurs"~English Andy on American traditions.

#27: I do NOT want to ask you again!

I've learned many things about childcare from the moms/nannies who come to my gym:

1. Discussing the new super stroller you bought your child is more important than stopping your child from falling on their head.

2. If you don't watch your child, and they fall off the trampoline, that is clearly the instructor's fault.

3. It is perfectly acceptable to bring your teenager with you so they can knock over babies while they tear through the gym.

4. Even if your child WANTS to participate in the activities, it is more important to sit in the ball pit with your ipod than help him/her.

5. Most moms know everything, including how the gym should be set up, how you should talk to the children, and what music should be playing in the gym. 

6. Even when your child is making progress in class, you need not pay attention to them. Your friends in the "gucci-brigade" are obviously far more important. 

RS: "It took me a half hour to get into it, but then I liked it"
ME: "I feel the same way about hot pants"~ on Something Intangible

#26: Why was John Smith Australian?

The other day I found myself in the pediatric waiting room of a New Jersey surgical center. I was in the pediatric waiting room, because Rachel Ray was on in the adult waiting room and Pocahontas was in the children's room, so the choice was pretty much made for me. 
After the movie, I was trying very hard to ignore the documentary on Hannah Montana's Best of Both World's tour, when a young girl toddled in and started playing with the toys on the table. Her mother followed her in after a few moments. Her jeans were a size too small, and her shirt was far too short for a woman of her girth. Her multiple gold necklaces announced her arrival before she entered the room, and her hair was gelled into a messy, curly bird's nest the top of her head. 
"Where is the Cinderella doll?", her daughter asked. "Somebody stoled it. Just like always," snapped the mother. She collapsed into a chair, and turned to me with what can only be described as a scowl. "You gettin an injection?" I started and then smiled politely, "No, no, I'm just waiting for someone." She fixed her face into a disgusted grimace, as I had offended her with my answer, and she turned back to watch her daughter. Apparently, somebody stoled her social skills.

"I promise I won't make you have sex with grapes"~LM on stage direction.

#25: Mother of Mine

My favorite part about my job is examining the types of "mom" that walk into the gym. Here is a field guide of what I've observed:

1. The New Mom (Novus Matris): Usually recognizable by wide eyes and a general sense of panic in everything they do. While they never say it, you can almost hear their minds pleading, "I have this baby. Please, tell me what to do with it." They have an amazing sense of trust, bordering on naivete for anyone who can tell them anything about the little creature attached to their $500 stroller.

2. The Main Line Mom (Pelagus Versus Matris): Ever seen a 14 month-old in skinny jeans? I have. And that's a clear signal that they're the child of a main line mom. Thin and beautiful, these women use their gym time as a social ritual, rather than a learning experience for their child. Their children are dressed just as well as their mothers, and are more like accessories than humans; much like the tiny dogs that girls used to carry around in college. 

3. The Stage Mom (Tempus Matris): Just because you're not in the theatre doesn't mean there can't be a mom in the wings. Known for sitting in on classes that parents aren't supposed to attend, they have a language pattern that involves repeating whatever the instructor has just said, only louder and directed specifically at their child. It's no doubt that their children will become superstar athletes in high school, probably harboring a secret yen to play the bassoon. 

4. The Mean Nanny and The Slacker (Vilis Matris et Ientesco): The Mean Nanny can be easily identified by the ipods adorning their ears for the entirety of their gym time. They are quick to anger, and can be agitated by even a glance in their child's direction. They spend their time lounging in one of the ball pits, encouraging their child not to participate in the daily activities. The Slacker exhibits these traits as well, but will also leave the bulk of the child-rearing responsibility to the child's older sister or brother, even if they're only five years old.

"Hope to hear from you 'Schooner' rather than later"~KS and AS in a brilliant headshot submission for The Seafarer

#24: Yogurt imposter

As I was eating my Amaretto Cheesecake yogurt (which, of course, tasted nothing like amaretto or cheesecake), I noticed the words non-fat yogurt on the front. Yet, upon examining the nutrition facts, one can plainly see that there are 0.5 grams of fat. For that matter, the first two ingredients on the list are Milk fat and nonfat milk! Further more, why would you add milk fat AND nonfat milk? Doesn't that just equal out to regular ol' milk? Oh, dairy. You never fail to leave me flummoxed. 

"I used to bite my sister. But I don't anymore. She doesn't taste as good"~Second grade confessions provided by MB.

#23: Surviving the Gucci Brigade

Friday I learned to survive the Main Line moms. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that the hem of my Rollins slip peeks out from time to time. I've been known to wonder around BCBG touching every item. A touch of drool hits my lips when I see the new pink Coach bag being carried by a coworker, and I'm pretty sure I'd be able to buy a house with the money I spend at Starbucks in a year. Still, the Friday morning moms at my Gym manage to baffle me. After sitting in a circle on the floor for 45 minutes talking about germs while they let their infants jump on trampolines unsupervised, it was finally "stamp time". Every student in every class gets a stamp on their hand at the end of class for doing so well...or so I thought. As I bent down to give little Sophia a stamp, an eyeliner clad face popped in front of me. "SERIOUSLY. No stamps." She said giving me the stop sign with her manicured hand. "Oh, I'm sorry..." I stammered. "It gets ALL over their clothes and their face and I can't get it off for a week, so this class gets STICKERS." "I see," I replied rifling through the basket until I found the small tin of stickers. I just find it unfortunate that these children will have no practice for when they're older and getting their hands stamped for admittance to clubs in Manayunk, where they'll hang out with all the other Gucci and Prada tube tops and Ambercrombie button-ups.

"That's ok. You're just stupid"~KS on people who don't like The Godfather.

#22: A cookie shaped like America

Let me ask you muggles some questions (Muggles are non-theatre professionals, of course). When looking for jobs, do you find that you've become an expert at putting on liquid eyeliner on the subway? Do you get kicked so many times by the girl rehearsing the dance sequence in front of you that you develop a slight limp? Do you find yourself ordering ravioli soup at the thai restaurant across the street from the theatre because you haven't eaten all day and you've been waiting for hours for your call-back? Do you then find yourself using a rubbermaid cart as a makeshift table in the lobby of the theatre, but the cart is too high and the bench is too low so your really at eye level with the soup, trying not to spill shrimp on your audition dress, that is actually your baccalaureate dress from high school? Finally, do you find yourself roaming the streets of a deserted pennsylvania town looking for the last trolley so that you won't be stuck sleeping outside the Trader Joe's for the night? Yeah? Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure that was normal.