Part 3: “Luck is What Happens When Preparation Meets Opportunity.” – Seneca
Okay, so I just received a Comment on Part 2 from Oprah — herself. Seriously.
Claiming I couldn’t take the pressure? You joking me? Working for Oprah would be a walk-in-the-freaking-park compared to taking care of these kids. My past 2 weeks have blown chunks. Yeah, so I bitch about work every now and then… and complain about how trying to run a household, multiple kids’ lives, and keep hubby happy (he’s so far down on the totem poll, it’s not even funny). However, when they’re at preschool, this-sistah-is-hooked-up-big-time. And by “big time” I mean I can actually finish typing out a full sentence in .08 seconds, vs. 18 MINUTES. Oh… the interruptions.
I’m in a decent position this summer as well. Our stellar mother’s helper swings by for about 3-4 hours 5x/week. Not bad — even though that only offers coverage for about 20 of the 35 hours I work/week. I am NOT complaining. And, I really shouldn’t.
Able to work from home. See these peanuts grow out of their shells. See all of their milestones; not miss a hug or a tear. Pay the mortgage. Seriously… God has truly blessed me. However, women are entitled (in fact, it’s our job) to be able to complain TO someone… especially since I AM COMPLAINED TO all day (!).
These 2 weeks have stunk. I’ve been solo. Sitter’s in Spain – for soccer (rats!). All 4 of them at my feet. Wining. Complaining. Still working same amount of hours.
“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Maaa, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma, Mahhh Ma,Maaa, Maaa, Maaa, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
And they WONDER why I drink?
Now that we’ve addressed that. My excuse. For not completing Part 3. Work (“real work” vs. my 5th baby, this blog) trumped Today’s Cliche’s priorities lately. Sorry. Back to Part 3. Where were we?
Did you watch my asinine video in Part 2? You see what I mean by the chub rolls under the pits where the tube shirt started? (NOTE 2 SELF: NEVER, ever wear a shirt like that on a video EVER again. Or in a picture. Or out in public. Another NOTE 2 SELF: You look horrible in it).
So, I leave my audition. Where do I head, you ask? Welp, to a bar, of course. Oh, yeah – yeah… first I hugged everyone in my group, exchanged “stories”, cell numbers… gave encouraging “SEE YOU TOMORROW AT the 2nd day of Casting Call!” “Oh, no… YOU are totally getting a call back. Not me!” (Then, you realize THAT’s a horrible attitude, so…) “Okay, yeah, you’re right… I. WILL. SEE. YOU. THEN!” (insert cheezy smile and finger sticking out, pointing to them, like a gun; winking left eye).
Below is one of my insert-handgun-gesture-friends who was in my group at Casting Call —
[Ouch -- looking at my outfit... NO FREAKING WONDER I didn’t get a Call Back. S#it. I counted on my cousin’s advice when I did a fashion show for her before I left for my flight — I look ridiculous! OH, and… I JUST NOTICED: I F O R G O T T O T A K E O F F M Y F L I P F L O P S for my audition, and put on my heels that were in my bag (!). What a freakin’ tool I am. Again, I didn’t expect to go right into the VIP line. Especially after the email, that you’ll read, in Part 4. Oh, and that white skirt is actually ADORABLE in person… looks like a crazy mess above (!). And, I’m a sweaty pig by the end of it).
Anyway, at the bar, I talk for about 2 1/2 hours on my cell to my sister… then head over to a restaurant
(still on phone, of course). Of ALL great places to choose in Atlanta, GA — I choose a “Diner”. Seriously. Why? I’m from Long Island. THE MECCA for real, and I mean REAL, diners. Don’t have ‘em in Raleigh. Or anything even CLOSELY resembling one. Got an overloaded omelette w/the works. WELL DONE hashbrowns. 14 liters of ketchup to dip it all in. Oh, it was outta this world. After I wind up hopping off the phone w/sis… I was beckoned over by some strangers who noticed my bracelet who also was at the casting call. I jump into their booth, pry into their business for about 1/2 hour. Head back to hotel. Change into PJs (so what if it’s only 5 pm). Pass out from sheer emotional and mental exhaustion – in every sense of the word.
Oh, forgot to mention — My BFF, “Ryan” (O’s Personal Bodyguard) — went out of his way to find me AS I was coming out of my tent after my specific 30 second audition — and says, “SO… How DID you do?” I was feeling special; not gonna lie (hubs is so pissed right now). He reminds me to keep my phone on and stay off of it, b/c if you don’t answer they’ll just move onto the next person, thinking it’s not that important to you. So, what do I do? Go. To. Sleep (?). Yes, seriously.
Let me first say that I’m not a napper. Never have been. Not in college. NOT when I was pregnant 4 times. Not when I was nursing 4 times over. Not even when I was up through the night with the little buggers. However, I’m slowly but surely learning this delicious skill. All I need is a good 17 minute one. A quick nap SERIOUSLY changes, well, everything.
I also am slowly learning that I shouldn’t feel guilty about napping — a VERY hard lesson to learn. Plus, hell, I was BY MYSELF. IN A HOTEL ROOM. NO CHILDREN. NO SCHEDULE. No one wining. Didn’t turn the TV on even once.
Okay, where was I. So, I fall asleep. I figure I’ll hear my phone. I wound up sleeping until almost 10:30 pm! I was grateful that I only needed to wait another 1 1/2 hours to see if the phone rang and felt like a $1,000 bucks. The Casting Director said they’d probably be doing interviews until 9:30 or 10 pm… so I didn’t think twice about it. I was just at peace with the whole thing. Candidly, part of me was 100% confident I’d be getting a callback. The whole thing — meaning everything Oprah, Lisa Ling, and Mark Burnett said in their short video about “who they’re looking to fill this role” — felt like a pair of jeans and a t-shirt ON me. Like it just fit so perfectly. I thought they’d likely want to see more of me (wow, that sounded somewhat conceited… I didn’t mean for it to — ya know, it just felt so “me”; so natural).
But THEN there was this other feeling of extreme impending doom. The feeling of “there’s no way in freaking’ h-e-double-hockey-sticks that phone is gonna ring”. I remembered the feeling in 7th grade when I didn’t get the call about making Cheerleading. I sat by that damn phone all night. I can taste the disappointment – 23 years later. I also remember the feeling in 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th grades when I DID get the calls — 2 of which included the nomination to be Captain. Gosh, HOW UNIMPORTANT AND RIDICULOUS ALL OF THAT WAS, looking back. What’s the big freaking’ deal? Anyway, couldn’t resist stating the obvious about how, as a teenager, these little blips in your life — that’s all they are — seem as important as the day you give birth (present day). And, they AREN’T.
So, decide to head down to the vending machine and get a Dr. Pepper (which I haven’t had SINCE I was in 7th grade), a bag of Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips, and a Mega Size Snickers Bar. Seriously. I have friends who I’m speaking with (on the stupid hotel ‘hard line’ phone) tell me I’m crazy for going down the elevator (“What if you lose signal in between floors, and that’s the exact moment they’re trying to call you????“). I say WHAT THE HELL. If that really happens, this whole thing isn’t meant to be. Plus, I want junk. I’m on a mission and there’s no turning back. And, P.S., the calling-me-on-the-hotel’s-hard-line was THEIR idea, and not mine… again, “What if they try calling you and you’re on your cell phone??” My response, “Then Call Waiting will show up, duh“. They’re rebuttal? “What if you’re dialing out at the EXACT same moment?”
You can see where this is going….
Need to take a breath. Part 4 coming in an hour.
And, I mean it this time.