They’re underfed and foofy,
Scientologists are goofy,
They’re all together kooky,
The Cruiseman’s Family.
Their house is a museum
Where people come to see ‘em
They really are a scream
The Cruiseman’s Family.
(Posh!)
(Gosh!)
(Dosh!)
So get a nony mask on
A placard you can scrawl on
We’re gonna pay a call on
The Cruiseman’s Family.
Inspired by the lovely Twistie and her post about “letting go of perfect” in regards to your wedding day, I thought I would follow the path down to parenting.
Oh, and what a twisted path it is, poorly paved, and with all kinds of things like painfully sharp-cornered Lego blocks to trip you up.
Because let’s face it, there is no such thing as a perfect parent.
Of course there are parents that try their hardest every day to be perfect, but it just isn’t possible. We are human. We have 365 days a year, 52 weeks, and 24 hours a day to mess up.
And mess up we do.
We all do. We all have.
And that’s OK.
To this day I still beat myself up about dropping the seven month old Munchkin out of his Baby Bjorn, wherein he fell to the ground, hitting his head on his crib on the way down. Get this, on Mother’s Day, no less. As I sat in the emergency waiting room, I felt as if there was a big neon arrow above my head, with a brightly flashing “World’s Worst Mother, Dropped Her Baby on a Day Celebrating What a Great Mother She is Supposed to Be” underneath. After being reassured that babies’ heads are quite resilient and that a career as a nuclear physicist was still up for grabs, I still felt horrible. The least perfect parent in the entire world.
But you know what? You move on. You get over it. You have to. It’s not an excuse to be lazy, but I cannot think of any profession where perfection is such an impossibilty to attain. You vow not to make the same mistake twice. You acknowledge that as long as you are considering your child’s best interests at all times, you are doing the best you can.
And even though that parenting pathway is full of pitfalls as well as pratfalls, that’s all anyone can ask of us, don’t you think?
Is it wrong to say, though, that I still cannot look at a Baby Bjorn without inwardly shuddering?
Notorious pitching star and supermodel Naomi Campbell has the all-clear for reproduction!
Naomi underwent an operation to remove what she thought was a small cyst,but turned out to be something more. …”[doctors] thought it was a cyst. When they opened it up they realized it was more.I was not able to have children up until March. Now it’s in God’s hands. I would love to have a family but it’s up to God. I do want to have kids. I’m 38 years old.”
It’s in God’s hands, but I do hope her parole officer at least gives testimony at the hearing.
When a brave paparazzo informed Ms. Campbell that the game is entitled “Drop the Baby” and not “Pitch the Baby” she tossed the hapless prop orphan to her longsuffering entourage, demanded ten thousand dollars and a bottle of Cristal, and stormed off to cry on Diddy’s yacht.
Longtime TeenyManolo readers will recall our play-by-play of the first round of the hotly-contested (and, apparently, hyphen-generating) playoffs in the international Drop the Baby league. Indeed, as with the great Secretariat winning the Belmont in ’73, who could forget the way the untouchable Britney effortlessly pulled ahead of upstart newbie Kat(i)e HolmesCruiseBot? An easy win for a truly legendary thoroughbred.
Here are two fresh competitors late out of the gate, but who show great promise. While it’s true that neither Gwen Stefani nor Larry Birkhead have actually dropped the baby (subject to updates TK) we figure between his habits and her heels, it’s just a matter of time. Let’s break down the challenges these two represent, shall we?
First up, Golden Gwen Stefani out of Orange County, California, whose husband so ably displayed secure baby-handling technique all this week at the fashion shows. Realizing that such attention to baby safety and anti-splat measures is directly antagonistic to the paparazzi-attracting imperative, Gwen decided to take teeny, adorable things into her own hands.
Kingston: I like that Kingston is rocking the Seventies headphones; he’s probably grooving to some totally happenin’ Steely Dan right at this very moment. And his sweatshirt and coordinated bright (easy to find if dropped) pacifier are cute, although low-rider jeans are not a good idea on anyone who wears a diaper. A full Pampers is not exactly a jeweled thong, you know? Decent enough shoes, not the foot-truncating ballet flats of the earlier appearance.
Gwen: THOSE SHOES! These are, without question, the highest shoes yet to make an appearance in Drop the Baby. She needs oxygen at that altitude! An excellent choice for round two, really ramping it up and showing that this challenger is one not afraid to make the daring, if painful, stretch. While not unacquainted with flats, she knows this is what it takes to catch the leaders and she’s willing to do what it takes, whatever it takes. Brava.
That dress! Seriously, folks, it’s pretty and it fits and I heart well-made pave sequin fabric and all (oh, no-one hearts it more than me!) but if she actually does drop the baby some day, it’s either say ah, hellwithit and just let him BASE jump from that height or show everyone in the world exactly where babies come from.
Gavin: Who cares what he’s wearing, he’s hawt! He’d look best nekkid.
Note: Stefani loses points because despite a solid effort, she, in fact and in actuality, failed to drop the baby.
On to the second challenger.
Boy, this guy doesn’t fool around, does he?
Round Two: Birkhead!
