Bad Parent: Stage Mother
My baby was a cover girl.
by April Peveteaux
May 17, 2007
Before I gave birth, I viewed babies with a critical eye, the same one that judged Beauty and The Geek contestants. Sure, I thought all babies were cute in that E.T. kind of way, but I wouldn't have called a three-day-old gorgeous. I believed kids needed to be at least two years old so you could see how their hair was going to work with their face. Seriously, I said that. But that was before I gave birth to my own old-man-looking, chicken-legged little squirmer. In the delivery room, I was fitted with my own pair of rose-colored glasses and I knew she was the most beautiful baby in the universe. But even I was surprised when a modeling agent agreed.
When I became pregnant, my fledgling acting career (that was me playing the bank secretary in Law & Order's Season 9, Episode 23) came to a halt. A friend of mine suggested I do some pregnant modeling, so I signed with an agency that specialized in pregnant models and babies. And I didn't think anything of it that, when I gave birth, my baby girl, Esmé, went into their headshot files.
Esmé booked her first job at three months. And unlike me, this girl had nerves of steel. She greeted the cast of dozens — stylist, makeup artist, photo assistants — with that winning smile. As we arrived at that first job, a magazine representative greeted us and ushered us over to the stylist, who sized up Esmé, pulled out a fancy little blue outfit and gave us strict instructions to keep her bibbed and as still as possible to protect the garment from drool and wrinkles. Next, the hair-and-makeup guy took one look at Esmé and declared her ready. Apparently, concealer isn't necessary when your skin has only been exposed to the elements for ninety days. I wondered how much he made for chirping, "Babies are perfect the way they are!"
As we sat and waited for the photographer to finish setting the stage, I noticed a few other babies arriving. I asked one mom what she was there for, as if perhaps she had gotten lost along the West Side Highway and thought this was a good place to stop and nurse. She told me she was there for the same shoot — and, by Esmé booked her first job at three months.the way, was my daughter sleeping through the night? Before I had a chance to lie, she called over a three-year-old girl who had been pirouetting around the room, black hair swishing luxuriously around her shoulders. "She's also a model," her mother said. "She's done GAP, Ralph Lauren and Enfamil." The little girl smiled and tilted her head in a perfect Breck Girl pose. I knew if her baby sister were half as talented, Esmé was in trouble.
Baby modeling feeds on this kind of competition. Smart casting directors will hire anywhere from three to five babies to do one job. That's because baby models tend to spit up on wardrobe, get painful gas or take impromptu naps. You still get paid for your time, anywhere from $50 to $200/hour, but if you wind up in print, you also get a usage fee, which can hit four figures. I didn't much care about the money, but the condescending mother with the perfect little girls had me ready to rumble.
When the set was ready, one of the photo assistants came into the waiting room. "Are any of the babies asleep?" she asked. I proudly announced, "No!" Esmé hardly ever napped for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Another mother said her baby was, indeed, sleeping. Loser! I thought. We had this in the bag! But then the PA said to the other mother, "Great. Mom, can you bring her to the set?" A crib had been assembled to receive only sleeping baby models.
Desperate, I borrowed another mom's stroller to roll Esmé around the hallway. For two hours, I wheeled her up and down. Eventually, Esmé succumbed. I grabbed her and ran into the studio. The crew got some lovely shots in the ten minutes before she woke up. A few months later, I picked up Parents magazine and there was Esmé illustrating an article about SIDS sure to terrify thousands of new parents. We were ecstatic.
©2007 April Peveteaux and Nerve Media
About the Author
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April Peveteaux is a writer, editor and sometimes performer. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband, son and daughter. |
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