Confessions of a Stage Mom

This fall, Brynna and I were photographed for a calendar. Flavour, our women's ministry at Fellowship Church, put together a calendar to advertise the Spring series about seasons of life. During the photo shoot, a woman there doing makeup approached me about Brynna doing child modeling. One thing led to another, and to my shock, it happened. My child was signed to a modeling agency in Dallas. She had her first photo shoot a few weeks ago, and today we traveled an hour away for her to shoot a commercial.

Here's the deal. I never imagined this. I kind of thought the whole thing was laughable at first. Even now, I find it hard to tell people. For some reason, I feel embarrassed. I guess I don't want them to assume I parade my kid around in glitter and high heels. So to say the least, I'm the farthest thing from a crazy stage mom...or so I thought.

Today's shoot was not ideal. We arrived early, but Brynna's call time was 1:30pm. Translation: NAP TIME. BG spent about 30 minutes smiling, playing with other kids, dancing, waving and doing her general attention-appealing routine. About the time she would be going down for a nap at home, a stranger came and took her away. Needless to say, she was less than thrilled. Brynna tends to have a flair for the dramatic, so she immediately went into high gear. She was determined to convince anyone in a 10 mile radius that bamboo was being shot under her fingernails. She screamed, kicked, made sounds like she might throw up her cheerios and screamed some more. They tried several tactics but were unsuccessful at calming her.

In the world of child acting, this is not a big deal. It happens everyday. It just means Brynna won't be used for this shoot, but they'll call her for another one another day, and the world keeps turning. In the world of Regina, it was cause for a call to both husband and sister and almost a need for a tissue. (Almost. Don't get crazy.) I was just not ok. I don't want to have the kid who can't be out of her mom's presence. I had a whole meltdown, trying to determine where in the last 10 months I went wrong. I wasn't going to the REALLY crazy place of being a bad mom, but I was definitely on the road to crazy. I wondered if my staying at home is not best for her. Does she need more time apart from me? Have I been so strict with her napping schedule that she can't function from the hours of 2-4pm? Then I began mentally sizing her up to the other kids at the shoot. One girl was walking at 8 months. One boy was perfectly happy being passed from photographer to production assistant, never once needing Mom. I drew the only conclusion I saw...I've failed her.

Ok, so that wasn't the only conclusion to draw, but it was the one I went with first. After thanking my family for not thinking ill of me, I did what I should have done in the beginning. I stopped. And took a breath. Stage mom, working mom, stay--at-home mom, we all have the same desires for our kids. We want them to be the best they can be. We want them to thrive and grow, to love and live fully. This is one of many days I'll question myself as a parent, I'm sure. But what I know for next time is this...Our days together will not be perfect, but Brynna will always be loved. I could care less how old she is when she walks or if she is in a commercial. I care that she sees Love lived out. If that happens, we had a good day. And that's alright by me.

Can you wear white?

Today was White Day at Brynna's school. We got an email from the preschool director and everything. All the kids were asked to wear white, and the older kids were learning about popcorn in their lessons. I immediately had a flashback to a dozen Homecoming weeks in jr. high and high school where I traipsed off to school with mismatched clothes, pajamas or worse. Then - even scarier - I had a flashFORWARD. I envisioned watching a 15-year-old Brynna walk out the door in bell bottoms dressed for 70's day. I will love that day when I get to help BG dress up. And I love this day, too. So while she's only 10 months old, I figured we'd throw caution to the wind and go big. Afterall, if you're gonna go - go big or don't go.

The only white thing I could find in her closet was a romper with shorts and short-sleeves. So we did the romper with a long-sleeved shirt underneath and white tights. Not forgetting the most important piece of all, we added white tennis shoes. She may have been the cutest thing ever. We got to school and another little girl was already in class - dressed head to toe in a pink leopard jump suit. Guess her mom didn't get nostalgic. So off I went to take on the day, and off Brynna went to turn those white tights brown.

I'm not sure if you remember (or have met me) but I tend to make up competitions that don't exist. So of course, I needed to see who won White Day. I walked in to school ready to size up the kids as they left to see who might possibly have gotten close to wearing as much white as BG. To my disappointment, NO ONE WAS WEARING WHITE! Everyone looked totally normal.

I'm not sure if they just didn't participate or what happened, but it may have been the funniest thing ever. Good thing it wasn't Dress Like Your Favorite Animal Day. Poor Brynna would have been the only kid at preschool dressed as a bear!

Pull the trigger!

One of my favorite movie scenes is in "Shooter". Yeah, you know the one. Mark Wahlberg. It's not actually about Marky Mark, although we all know we could think of few that include him. There is a scene where the girl in the film is hiding and the men hunting Mark Wahlberg's character are prowling through her house. It's the classic scene - big scary men, scared little girl. They are moving quietly closer to her. She is huddled behind a door about to pee her pants. But just when you think she's going to freeze and scream like a girl, this chick shoots the guy with a shotgun. (Sorry if that ruined it for anyone.) I cheered the first time I saw it. I literally shouted, "That was awesome!" In my head, she's me. In my head, I'm her. In my head, I can outrun, out-smart, out-shoot and out-fight the bad guys.

Unfortunately, in real life, I run slow and can't see well. And painful as it is to say...I fear I might scream like a girl. I don't want to be that girl. I want to be the chick with the shotgun. Right now, though, I'm huddled behind the door about to pee my pants and I have yet to pull the trigger.

You see, I have a dream that I don't really tell people. It's one of those things that I keep to myself - not because it's huge or scary but because if I don't share it, there's no chance of it getting trashed by others' negativity or my personal failure. Unfortunately for me, though, it won't come true, either. About 6 months ago, I felt a new wave of fear come over me. I really felt like God was calling me to act. To do it. Pull the trigger. Quite hiding behind the door. But I'm paralyzed. Like all those movies before, I'm just standing here screaming like a girl.

Then, over the recent holiday break, I journaled and prayed about how to make this dream happen. I felt strongly that God was pushing me to share my dream on my blog - to write about my progress so you can keep me accountable. I figured I could do that since I'm pretty sure about 5 people read my blog and you've all promised to love me even if I lose all my limbs and can't speak. But then I remembered that I linked my blog to Facebook. And for the life of me, I can't exactly remember how to unlink it. So if I share this dream, it won't just be 5 people who love me no matter what. It will be hundreds of people. Some of them I barely know. Some of them I know well. Yep, that's me. Still here. Still about to pee my pants.

But here's the deal. While some of us can pull the trigger immediately and some of us take longer, I think there's a little bad a** in every girl. So here goes. I'm pulling the trigger.