Angelina Jolie told the British mag Total Film, “The great thing about having a bunch of kids is they just remind you that you’re the person who takes them to go poop … that’s who you are!”
Ain’t it the truth. I love that this, undeniably most glamorous woman in the world, admits to doing what all parents do. We’re dealing with the nitty gritty everyday-parenting details AND their careers and personal lives. (Fine, she has nannies, but clearly she’s in it to win it if she’s on poop duty!)
A funny story for you: The other day, JD had a dentist appointment. The group has Peds and adult care, so we both go there. Over the years I befriended one of the adult dental hygienists, who happens to be a single mom to a little boy age 9. During my check-ups, she talks single mommyhood and I respond with my hands as my mouth is occupied/I’m high on nitrous oxide. She’s my FB friend and reads all of my blogs. She likes reading about WOTY, my interview with Adrian Grenier, my run as a Yoplait Spokesperson and my … dating life. Those 4 instances, fine. They do sound pretty snazzy.
But let’s not forget about:
I am living a glammy, glammy life!
When she spotted me in the office last week with JD, she came running up to me, “Carrie Bradshaw, where have you been, girlfriend!” she said, hugging me.
“I live vicariously through you! The magazine, the dating, the events—you’re so busy! You have SO much going on.”
JD was digging through the toy pool since he had no cavities (hooray!). I was holding my coat, his coat, his hat, my purse, a dental goody bag, a balloon, and I had a scarf half-wrapped around my neck.
“You’re nuts!” I proclaimed, kneeling down to help JD with his coat—who was refusing to put it on, because he was still looking for the perfect no-cavity prize and complaining he was, “dying of thirst.” (The drama—so my kid!)
“Dude, you can’t drink anything for a half-hour, because of the special stuff they put on your teeth.” (Fluoride.)
“But ma-oooooooom, I needa drink!” he said. “It’s not fair!”
We fled. “Get in the car!” I said, the freaking balloon floating away as I tried to assist him. Great. That balloon looked so happy to be free of us.
Back at home, JD had 10 minutes to go before getting a cup of milk. Longest 10 minutes of my life. That day at least. My kitchen smelled like a stinky hot dog cart, because I told JD he could have anything he wanted for dinner on account of no cavities.
There were dishes in the sink. Clean clothes in the dryer. Both beds were semi-made and chaos was ensuing over a lost Lego man’s hand the size of a sunflower seed.
“Max, no, NO!” I said over and over, as he pawed JD for a nibble of hot dog, tater tot, and grapes.
Womanhood and motherhood: Two very different things. I can be at an awards show one minute, sipping champagne … and making a (fake) 911 call to Lego City to report a missing hand the next while sipping a juice box.
One thing I know for sure, JD keeps me grounded and sane because, in my crazy business, it’s easy to get caught up in the limelight.
I’m glad that I have a little butt to wipe at home.
How do your kids keep you grounded? Please share.
PS: I may be at the mag wrapped up in an Italian pashmina, but I’m staring at a pic of JD taped to my monitor and just added “Pizza money due” to my iCal. I have 2 kid bday parties this weekend.