Perfect Moment Monday isn’t about creating a perfect moment as much as it is about noticing one. Perfect moments are just waiting to be observed, and can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.
So we gather her once a week to engage in mindfulness about something that is right with our world, if only for a, well, a moment. Everyone is welcome to join. Details on how to participate are at the bottom of this post, complete with bloggy bling.
Now, here’s mine.
There’s a bit of a leadup to this Perfect Moment.
It all started on Friday when I heard a radio ad on my way to pick up Tessa, for a casting call to take place over the weekend.
I’ve never harbored dreams of Tessa acting/singing/dancing, so what I did next was pure impulse. I dialed the number. And in the 10 minutes it took to drive through the school’s pickup line, I had secured Tessa an audition for Sunday afternoon.
There were only two questions I asked: would I be able to be with Tessa during the entire process (yes) and was this actually an application for a modeling school (no). I even double checked both.
“No, ma’am,” the chirpy girl said the third time I asked for reassurance. “This is most definitely an audition for real parts and not a pitch for a school.”
Tessa was excited. Her favorite thing to do is to sing and dance and perform for imaginary audiences. There IS something in her that sparkles. And we expend a lot of energy taming her inner diva.
It took hours to get ready. The first time I curled her hair it didn’t meet her standards, so we started all over. Once we had an acceptable ‘do, she shellacked the heck out of it with hairspray. Moderation is not a concept she has mastered.
She chose a purple dress with white tights and looked beautifully sweet. On the drive down, a small run appeared at her thigh, which would have been hidden by the dress and not a worry except that she picked at it. By the time we arrived at the audition, the gaping hole was down to her knee.
“No worries,” I said. ” Just take them off and go bare-legged.’
“I can’t, Mom.” she devilishly replied. “I don’t have anything on underneath!”
I have to verify this because I don’t believe her. But she is not messing with me.
Crap. She has no other choice than to pretend that she meant to wear a huge hole in her tights.
We get out of the car and join The Throngs. Dozens of other cars are disgorging little girls in their Sunday best and accompanying uptight-looking moms. I realize I am one of them. We all head for the elevators, angling to be first in line so we can get on with our Sundays.
We check in by filling out forms and enclosing photos we were instructed to bring. We are herded into a room with a rocking video looping about the wonderful and exciting world of child acting! Everyone is having so much fun and there are no Mean Girls! Join us! You are just steps away from being the next Hannah Montana!
While Tessa watches, entranced, I work on the forms. I find the sucker punch.
It’s a g*ddammed freakin’ bite-me school.
At this point, I can gather our things and leave in a huff. Or I can consider this a nice, free Sunday activity made for mothers and daughters.
In the next room the girls line up along one wall and the parents on the other. This is the Runway Room, where a very unmodel-like man (think Barney Rubble) regales us with his credentials in the fashion world. He sashays up and down to loosen up the crowd before he guides the girls though The Walk.
The mom on my right hoots at his every lame joke as if her daughter’s success depends Barney noticing her. The mom on my left reeks of whiskey. I turn into a stage mom myself when I keep motioning to Tessa to keep the tie of her dress out of her nose.
Tessa walks just fine and shares a big smile with a giggle at the end of her walk. Barney gives no indication of her “grade,” but my heart swells with pride.
Next is the individual Interview. With the g*ddammed freakin’ bite-me school director. She asks only one question of us: How supportive are the parents? She gives us the bum’s rush and says to call at 7 pm tomorrow night to see if Tessa is accepted.
Finally, there IS an actual audition, ostensibly for a commercial. In a room full of other hopefuls, each girl is to say her lines on camera and persuade breakfast eaters everywhere to eat Kell.0gg’s Corn Po.ps. Tessa says her name and age, and repeats the lines as they are fed to her. She speaks confidently and displays the ease that comes with enjoying oneself. Again, no reaction from the evaluators.
Then it’s over. Tessa comes to the back row and sits in my lap and gives me a huge hug and kiss.
Once we’re in the car, she tells me “Mom! That was awesome!”
A hard-won perfect moment.
Her favorite parts were the Runway and being on camera. She says she feels great.
She has no idea that this audition might have lead somewhere. So my question is, should I even call tonight to see if she was accepted into the g*ddammed freakin’ bite-me school? There’s no way we would ever enroll her.
I tend to think this was just a nice, free Sunday activity made for mothers and daughters.
Be sure to follow the other stories/links because as we know, perfect moments can be found in giving and receiving comments. So how about you deliver a couple of Perfect Moment seeds and trust that they’ll grow?
Once you make a Perfect Moment post, you are qualified to place this button on your blog.
Now. What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of?
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