gossip

Daddy blogs can be just as good as mommy blogs. Haven’t you heard? I really like this guy, especially the way he’s always trying to give his baby a mustache.

Mad at your husband? At least he didn’t accidentally bring you and your daughters to a North Korean gulag to die. Sorry to start off the week with such a sad story.

This story about a fatal shark attack has nothing to do with motherhood, except perhaps to serve as a reminder to never take your children to Florida. Or if you do, stay inland.

Did everyone catch the New York Times story about the couple who decided to chuck this whole civilization thing and move to a yurt in Alaska? I’m in awe. I guess, you know, those Mongolians do it all the time and it works out for them. But caring for an 11-month-old baby in an oversized tent with no heat or running water? With snow drifting and wind howling outside? When you could just go rent a house in town? Amos rips off his hat and gloves and I freak out that hypothermia will set in immediately, so Alaska is unimaginable. And potty training in an outhouse? Fun to hear about other people attempting it, not fun to attempt yourself.

Honestly, I can’t believe it’s taken so long for something like this to happen. The subways of NYC got way more dangerous this week when a germy woman coughed without covering her mouth, prompting what we can all agree is completely warranted response. Another woman chastised the cougher. An argument ensued. But then it got all out of hand, and before you know it, smackdown! Read more HERE.

Is a sneeze from Jim Bob enough to get Michelle knocked up? Number 19 is on the way.

I love to read about what rich people eat for breakfast and what time they get up in the morning and how much they pay their nannies. It’s all the better if these rich people are in New York, I don’t know why. Here’s a Washington Post article that ran Sunday that is FANTASTIC, about a single mom of three who’s trying to make it on $300,000 a year. I know, I know, we all weep for her. Chock-full of delicious details: Lobster bisque at a party in the Hamptons, the family beach house that’s no longer in the family, why she simply cannot sell her 3-acre estate. Read it. 

It’s been a tiring weekend here and I have no coherent thoughts in my head. But my friend Sarah does. 

She just emailed me this, and I thought I’d share:

If I had a blog, I’d rant about that evil Michael Vick. Since you’re a pro blogger, feel free to do so on my behalf. (Watching 60 Minutes interview)

I’d also rant about the humidity.

But then I’d rave about hummingbirds, watermelon, and soft sheets. 

So there you have it.

I’m from NC so I’m probably more interested in the John Edwards love-child fiasco than most Arkansans. I suppose it’s really just another of the many recent stories about politicians who cannot keep their hands off ladies who are not their wives. Edwards is especially sickening, though, because his wife was DYING OF CANCER while he was screwing around. Also, he talked one of his campaign aides into claiming paternity for the love child, then allegedly gave Rielle Hunter, the mistress, some hush money. DISGUSTING. It’s back in the news today because after two years, Edwards is apparently going to admit he’s the father. As if we hadn’t figured it out for ourselves.

We can all debate about the wives in these scenarios: Should they stay? Should they go? But when you’re dying of inoperable cancer, your choices are limited.

I’m a little riled about this story this morning. Just thought I’d point it out in case any of you were game for some man-hating, too.

The octuplets were born on my son’s first birthday, but that’s not really why I’m so obsessed with the story. That crazy Nadya should be a tabloid darling for at least a while longer. I mean, how could she not? First of all, she looks like Angelina Jolie, and Angelina only has six kids. Ha! That’s nothing for Nadya with her household of 14, and none of them are from Malawi or Thailand. Nadya’s poor body has been pummeled by super-sized pregnancies multiple times. Granted, that bare-bellied photo of Nadya when she was pregnant with the eight was not all that flattering, but have you seen her lately? Surely there’s been work done, although I suppose breastfeeding eight babies would suck the pounds right off.

Then there’s the wacky stuff about how she had a lonely childhood and is seeking to fill the void. I guess those first six kids weren’t enough. Wow, I mean, this woman is fascinating.

But I think what’s most intriguing is the idea that Octomom is a sole proprietor daycare manager who works 24-hour shifts. I don’t know about you, but the 24-hour shifts I took taking care of just one baby about did me in. The unglamorous things about motherhood that we endure but don’t exactly embrace, like diaper changing and sterilizing bottles and waking up like 7 times a night, are surely 8 TIMES HARDER if you have octuplets. Yeah, she’s got lots of back-up, but still, isn’t that just as bad considering the complete lack of privacy? She’ll never get the house to herself, ever again.

I can’t wait to see how it all plays out. Of course, she’s already cashing in big-time. I wonder if she worries about her kids being exploited, but is there really a choice when there’s no other way to pay the bills? I know my salary wouldn’t even begin to cover daycare if I one day found myself with eight babies and no husband to pitch in.

I’m psyched to feed my Octomom obsession with a two-hour TV show that’s showing on Fox on Aug. 19. I would put a link here, but that’s pretty high-tech and I’m not sure I could pull it off. But I know y’all can figure it out. The show is supposed to let people decide for themselves what Suleman’s life is like. I can’t even begin to imagine.