Yeah, right. If that's the case then where's my nanny? My stylist? My personal assistant? My $20 million dollar mansion (with staff to boot)?
When Gwyneth and her ilk try to remind us that they are just ordinary people with ordinary stresses, I get an overwhelming urge to shove my (very ordinary) fist down their throats and rip out their insides.
OK, I admit I already habour a BHORC (Bizarre Hatred of Random Celebrity) for Gwyneth, so perhaps my view is tainted. But just have a read of these tidbits from her the blog.
"Got Apple all fed and dressed in her uniform and ready to go but no sign nor sight of Moses at 8 am and we have to be out of the house by 8:20. I went up to arouse the little man from slumber and he quite happily got up and crawled into my arms.. We got downstairs and I made him a quick breakfast of eggs and toast followed by a spoonful of lemon flavored flax oil that I try to remember to give them both every morning."
Twenty minutes to get two kids out of the house. Pull the other one. It has bells.
And from Stella: "We sit on the bed and read, and I demand my usual cuddles. Jen leaves at 6:30, so I try my best to juggle the three monkeys and keep them all in one piece till bed time". That's Jen, the nanny, who has been caring for Stella's youngest since before school drop off. So Stella has, at most, an hour by herself with three kids before it's their bedtime. Oh Boo and Hoo.
I have no idea who Juliet is, but I hate her already: "I have a great salon near me that I can go to at the end of the day to have a facial, manicure and pedicure at the same time. I'm in and out in 70 minutes.". 70 minutes? On personal care? Most working mothers of young kids are happy to use the loo for two minutes in the morning without company.
So, for contrast, here's my average day.
Midnight: Woken by screaming two-year old. Her bed clothes and jammies are saturated. Change sheets. Kid won't go back to sleep without bottle. Give bottle. Take half an hour to get back to sleep.
4am: Cat meowing, wants to go out. Get out of bed, open door, cat runs away from door back into the house. Spend five minutes tracking cat and putting him outside.
5am: Two year old awake for the day. Has bottle in front of Teletubbies while I fortify myself with three filtered coffees.
5.30am: 6-year old comes out of his room. Complains that he's hungry. Wants chocolate. Try to give him something healthy. Suddenly not hungry anymore.
6.20am: daddy leaves for the peace and quiet of work.
7am: breakfast for kids. Throw something quick in front of them while I have a shower.
7.30am: Do the 6-year olds reading with him. Listen to 10 minutes of whining about having to do the work, and then three minutes of actual reading.
8.15am: all dressed and ready for school. Two year old poos in her nappy. Have to change nappy before going to school.
8.30am: Drop 6-year old at school.
8.45am: Drop two year old at childcare.
9.30am: arrive at work. Spend eight hours hitting my head against figurative brick walls. Achieve nothing.
6.30pm: Get home. Kids driving daddy up the wall. Daddy sits down and has a wine. I do bedtime bottle for two-year old. Books for 6-year old.
7.30pm: Winemaker and I eat some hastily-prepared meal on couch. Watch inane TV. Check out Facebook.
9pm: fall asleep on couch, a little bit of drool at the corner of my mouth.
Just the same and Gwynnie, Stella and Juliet. The similarties are uncanny.
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