how lindsey lohan ends up being a dead-on illustration of motherhood. who knew?

the other day i was driving home and thinking about celebrities.  (as though i have to tell you that - you should pretty much assume that regardless of what i'm doing, i'm thinking about celebrities.)  and i started thinking about how it must be weird to walk out of walmart all bloated and just-woke-up-looking with a grocery sack full of ben and jerry's and tampons and have about twelve hundred camera guys jump out from behind the bushes and then sell your unfortunate photos to any tabloid who will take them and then the tabloids print that you're pregnant or aren't bikini-ready or going through a divorce and then everyone is all, I HATE THAT GIRL, and you're all, all i wanted was some freaking cinnabon ice cream like a normal human being. 

(also, you should pretty much assume that whenever i'm thinking about celebrities, i only think in run-on sentences.)

and yeah, that would be super annoying.  and totally invasive.  but then i was all, but that's part of the package when you become a celebrity.  no one forced you to be famous (except, i guess, for people who are famous for being kidnapped or something).  you chose this. 

it got me thinking about how people might react when i complain about mothering stuff.  how i'm all, i hate being covered in someone else's barf and also is it too much to ask to sleep all the way through the night and i hope my house is never a crime scene because my carpet is definitely not blacklight-ready and stuff like that.  i bet some people are like, yeah, i could see where that sucks, but you chose it.

and back again to the whole celebrity thing.  i bet many celebrities must see paparazzi simply as a necessary evil to doing what they really love.  take lindsey lohan for instance.  (or, so i don't get sued for libel, we'll call her finsey schmohan.)  lindsey lohan (whoops) has to deal with all her personal crap getting plastered all over the front page of the checkout line smut magazines.  and that must really suck.  but she deals with the hard aspects of fame so that she can pursue her first love, which seems to be flashing her cooter at any given chance.

and back again to the whole mothering thing.  this is just one of the myriad ways that mothering parallels being wildly wealthy and internationally acclaimed.  i chose this life.  if you're a mom, you chose this life.  and yeah.  it really, really, really sucks sometimes.  but all those ways that your life has become infinitely better as a result of being a mom couldn't come without all the literal crap being thrown your way every day. 

so the next time your kid snuggles you or colors you a picture or doesn't crap his pants, just think of all the hard things you went through to get to have this opportunity, and be grateful.  think of your kid's smile as the cooter-flashing moment amidst all the paparazzi.  or don't.

so, here's a question: what are some of your favorite cooter-flashing moments that make the rest of your paparazzi life worth it?


lauren said...

I love this. and you!

also, my security word is mosess which I am assuming is plural for moses. there really should be more mosess around.

todd said...

this was super encouraging. i love you my wife. thank you for choosing this. it makes my choice look all the impressive.

Sarah said...

I decided to not to hijack your comments with a really long response and just responded on my blog instead. :)