Britney Spears is a mom but does she blog?
While packing for our upcoming trip to New York, I decided to stop judging Britney Spears. I don’t like her music, I think her husband is gross, and I definitely don’t want to see the two of them locking lips in their chaotic world, but I think Britney will do fine as a mom.
Britney will do fine as a mom because she will never be put to the ultimate test of mommyhood: packing for a family of four.
I love vacations, but packing for them has always been challenging for me. When packing, I need to think not only about what I want to wear today (always difficult, especially if you’ve got a postpartum body and a pre-pregnancy wardrobe), but also about what I want to wear tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the…you get my drift. It’s like waking up to find you’re in the same place doing the same thing, over and over again. It hurts just to think about it. Oh, and did I tell you that I wanted matching shoes and jewelry to go with those outfits? AHHHHH.
Can you imagine my pain? Perhaps it’s because you’ve been there? Good, now quadruple that pain and understand that my head is throbbing with the thought of what the four people in my little universe will have on their bodies every day in the upcoming week. Oh, and on their bodies every night in the upcoming week, as well as on their shoes. And under their pants, too. And over their clothes. Oh, and there’s a 50% chance of rain. AHHHHH.
Britney Spears will never have to feel my pain and possibly fail the ultimate test in mommy 101; her kid will never have to run around a strange city wearing only a diaper and one of his mom’s t-shirts. This is because Britney Spears is a star and stars like Mrs. Federline employ household managers.
I read an article in our paper recently about the growing demand for household managers, the people who oversee all aspects of life at the estates of the very wealthy. If you have $100K a year to pay one of these talented professionals, some aspects of life they will oversee for you include cooking, scrubbing toilets, packing suitcases, and changing dirty diapers. They can probably hire somebody to write your blog, too.
Until I read that article, I had no idea that the title wife had been changed to household manager.
Or that I was supposed to be making $100K a year.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Britney’s wife, err, household manager, has already employed a small army of nannies to take care of the little boy with no name. Britney will recover peacefully from her elected C-section and won’t have to worry about establishing sleep patterns, or if it’s bad when the umbilical cord stump is oozing yellow stuff, or why her baby’s poo looks like tar. She’ll never have to wash his little onesies in Dreft , then fold them up lovingly and put them in the little basket underneath the changing table. She’ll probably never have to give him a bath either, although she might be photographed giving him one for People magazine.
I guess I’m glad I am regularly put to the tests of motherhood. Sure, I sometimes fail and there’s no doubt in my mind that my kids will remember my shortcomings and remind me about them ad naseum when they’re older and can afford therapists. But looking at the two suitcases I just packed, I know that this family will have clean clothes from head to toe every day of their vacation, and that they will be warm if they need to be and cool if they need to be, and that no Starkey-trained household manager could ever replace me.
If she’s lucky, Britney will one day get the pleasure of packing for her family. She’ll get to decide if she should pack windbreakers or fleeces, sandals or trainers. She will remember the toothbrushes, the contact lenses, the de-tangler she’ll have to use on her kid every time she combs his hair if she doesn’t want him to scream bloody murder, and the giant stuffed bear her kid has decided he can’t sleep without. She’ll either remember all those things or she’ll fire her household manager for forgetting.
Congratulations on the birth of your baby boy, Britney! I’m looking forward to reading your mommy blog!
Britney will do fine as a mom because she will never be put to the ultimate test of mommyhood: packing for a family of four.
I love vacations, but packing for them has always been challenging for me. When packing, I need to think not only about what I want to wear today (always difficult, especially if you’ve got a postpartum body and a pre-pregnancy wardrobe), but also about what I want to wear tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the…you get my drift. It’s like waking up to find you’re in the same place doing the same thing, over and over again. It hurts just to think about it. Oh, and did I tell you that I wanted matching shoes and jewelry to go with those outfits? AHHHHH.
Can you imagine my pain? Perhaps it’s because you’ve been there? Good, now quadruple that pain and understand that my head is throbbing with the thought of what the four people in my little universe will have on their bodies every day in the upcoming week. Oh, and on their bodies every night in the upcoming week, as well as on their shoes. And under their pants, too. And over their clothes. Oh, and there’s a 50% chance of rain. AHHHHH.
Britney Spears will never have to feel my pain and possibly fail the ultimate test in mommy 101; her kid will never have to run around a strange city wearing only a diaper and one of his mom’s t-shirts. This is because Britney Spears is a star and stars like Mrs. Federline employ household managers.
I read an article in our paper recently about the growing demand for household managers, the people who oversee all aspects of life at the estates of the very wealthy. If you have $100K a year to pay one of these talented professionals, some aspects of life they will oversee for you include cooking, scrubbing toilets, packing suitcases, and changing dirty diapers. They can probably hire somebody to write your blog, too.
Until I read that article, I had no idea that the title wife had been changed to household manager.
Or that I was supposed to be making $100K a year.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Britney’s wife, err, household manager, has already employed a small army of nannies to take care of the little boy with no name. Britney will recover peacefully from her elected C-section and won’t have to worry about establishing sleep patterns, or if it’s bad when the umbilical cord stump is oozing yellow stuff, or why her baby’s poo looks like tar. She’ll never have to wash his little onesies in Dreft , then fold them up lovingly and put them in the little basket underneath the changing table. She’ll probably never have to give him a bath either, although she might be photographed giving him one for People magazine.
I guess I’m glad I am regularly put to the tests of motherhood. Sure, I sometimes fail and there’s no doubt in my mind that my kids will remember my shortcomings and remind me about them ad naseum when they’re older and can afford therapists. But looking at the two suitcases I just packed, I know that this family will have clean clothes from head to toe every day of their vacation, and that they will be warm if they need to be and cool if they need to be, and that no Starkey-trained household manager could ever replace me.
If she’s lucky, Britney will one day get the pleasure of packing for her family. She’ll get to decide if she should pack windbreakers or fleeces, sandals or trainers. She will remember the toothbrushes, the contact lenses, the de-tangler she’ll have to use on her kid every time she combs his hair if she doesn’t want him to scream bloody murder, and the giant stuffed bear her kid has decided he can’t sleep without. She’ll either remember all those things or she’ll fire her household manager for forgetting.
Congratulations on the birth of your baby boy, Britney! I’m looking forward to reading your mommy blog!
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