nobody puts this baby in the corner

I can’t get enough of this boy.

Ace makes fun of me for torturing him with photo shoots all the time (he limits me to three pictures at a time…when he’s there to stop me), but  Artie LOVES having his picture taken as much as I love taking it.  It’s his favorite game, right after peek-a-boo and feeding his puffs to Girldog.

I’m thinking about taking the plunge into modeling with him, but it’s a hard decision to make.  There’s the driving back and forth to New York at a moment’s notice, the dilemma of putting your baby “to work,” and my own quite emotional experience with child modeling to consider.

This post should probably be delayed until I can get the cover of Modern Romance magazine scanned so you can see the 1988 version of me, Jenna Rock, on the cover.   I don’t know why, but I made everyone call me Jenna when I was between 3 and 6 years old.  Then it was Jennifer, then Jen with one n, then with two, back to one, back to two.  I drove my relatives crazy trying to keep up with what to write on my cards for holidays.  They probably still hesitate addressing birthday cards to this day.

Before my big cover debut I did a lot of fit modeling.  Nothing glamorous, I was just a real life mannequin for kids’ clothes.  My sister and I had a pretty good agent, Marge McDermott (whose office always reminded me of Muppets Take Manhattan for some reason).  My parents owned a clothing store during my childhood, so we were always going back and forth to the city, visiting the show rooms and making orders.  A typical day would be something like…check out the latest stone washed jeans and lacey bustiers from One Step Up, pick up some tee shirt clips and leg warmers at the accessory supplier and swing by a modeling job for me or Ash.  Throw in a pretzel from a street cart, a glimpse of my beloved Chrysler Building and some crayons to color the lookbooks while my Mom made important business decisions and call it a day.  A pretty great day.  That was my version of the playground.

I don’t remember being excited when I got the magazine cover job.  It was usually a lot of fun to try on clothes for fit modeling and go on go-sees, but I do remember just not being in the mood for it sometimes.  One of the most vivid memories from my childhood is being about six years old and listening to my mom’s side of a pay phone conversation on a New York City street about where we were headed next.  I remember not wanting to disappoint her even though she always said I could tell her if I didn’t want to model anymore and it would be no big deal.  It’s funny to think of the decision making processes of a six year old.  I remember debating it for a long time in my head, and finally when she hung up the phone I said I was done with it.  My dolls and swing set were being neglected and I missed my sister.  I think that’s the reason I gave.

Modern Romance is what ended my love affair with modeling.  Just as vivid as my memory to quit is the set for the photo shoot and everything about that day.  I remember changing into pajamas behind a little curtain and bossy women directing me as if this wasn’t a still photograph, but a feature film for which I had to memorize lines and “be” the character.

They could have just told me to sit on the bed and play patty-cake with “Jackie” or “Tracy” or “Beth.”  Instead, they really set me up for the scene.  Everyone gathered around and explained to me that my mom and dad were fighting and I was scared.  They told me to crawl into bed with my mom and cuddle.  Then they introduced me to my “mom.”  I was smart for my age, but I don’t care what your IQ is and how many Dr. Suess books you can read.  If you’re four years old and someone tells you that a strange woman is your mom and your parents are fighting…you’re going to freak out!

So I cried.  I refused to go near the “mom.”  The bossy women got annoyed because I was wasting time and costing them money.  I remember talk of union wages and everyone cursing themselves for not having a back-up kid to take my place.  My real mom and fake mom both tried to calm me down.  The fake mom was suddenly super nice because there was talk for a bit about replacing her with my mom so that I’d let the picture be taken.  Eventually I agreed to sit on the bed with this strange mom.  She reminded me of Baby from Dirty Dancing, so I didn’t totally hate her.  I think she bribed me with candy or something.  So that’s how I ended up on the cover of a trashy romance magazine.  I thought I was being adopted by Baby in a nightgown because my parents had a fight.  Fun times!

It might not seem to make sense that I want to get Artie into something that wasn’t 100% pleasant for me as a kid.  But there were a lot of great things about it and all of my experiences taught me life lessons that not all kids get to learn.  And that’s what will help his experience to have none of the negatives that mine did, just the good stuff.  But the truth is, no matter what activities he does whether it’s football, gymnastics, swimming or guitar lessons…he’s going to encounter uncomfortable situations at some point.  All I can do is make sure nobody puts my baby in the corner, or in a bed to cuddle with a fake mom.

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