I don’t remember if I found Paige Kellerman or if she found me, but either way, we were well met. I’ve been a fan of hers since she wrote her Dear John Letter to Oreos, and I always look forward to the guaranteed laugh I’ll get from her blog. With twins and a third on the way, I’m thinking she may need to consider rebuilding that Oreo Bridge, but as she contemplates ways to mother her growing family, this 21st Century Erma Bombeck is honoring us with a guest post today. Thank you, Paige!
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OF GOOP AND GWYNETH
By PAIGE KELLERMAN
I’d like to thank Piper for trusting me with the blog today, especially since I’m a little frazzled from Mother’s Day and relied on spell check to write two-thirds of this post. It’s not that Mother’s Day is terrible; it’s just that it makes me question my entire ability to rear children who won’t be the star of the Biography channel’s 2032 special “People Who Sniped People.”
Occasionally, I need some reassurance I’m doing an ok job as a nurturer. Not sure where to turn for support, this morning I Googled, “Tips on being a better mother and so forth.” (I also Googled “cobbler recipes made from two ingredients, one of them being raisins,” but that would have nothing to do with this post, so I won’t elaborate on what I found, no matter how amazing.) Lo and behold, the internets delivered me waify, corn silk blonde support in the form of Gwyneth Paltrow.
“Of course,” I thought, “Wasn’t it so obvious after her groundbreaking work in Sliding Doors?”
Eagerly, I clicked through her newsletter/blog hybrid, GOOP, and waited for her to anoint me in the ways of motherhood. After all, the website is very clear that it has fun icons and a relaxed layout. I’m neither fun nor relaxed, so surely this was a start. Also, there were catch phrases like, “arugula” and “fish monger.” This gave me pause, so I called my mother.
“What’s an arugula?”
“Gwyneth Paltrow says I need to both eat it and weave my own underwear of out it if I’m going to make it as a mother. Also, I think I’m supposed to knit the children small caps from the stuff. How does one knit a teeny, tiny cap?”
“It’s a vegetable…why are you listening to Gwyneth Paltrow?”
I sighed. “She’s rich and made at least two films I can think of. If we can’t trust her, who can we trust?”
“Right. Well, good luck with that. I never fed you any arugula, and you turned out just fine.”
“I just now put on pants. It’s 7pm.”
Things had gotten confusing, fast. If I found an arugula, how did I catch it and kill it? Not to mention, while I was murdering the arugula, was I supposed to be detoxing? That’s why my children were going to end up in prison, because I’d never detoxed.
Gwen said she needed to lose the extra fat under her eyelids, and I could be doing the same. I needed to be snorting Quinoa, taking Millet intravenously while hanging upside down off the couch, and drinking at least one glass of water a day.
What was water?
Not to mention, I had the wrong couch; it needed to be hand stitched by Peruvian hunchbacks who only had one eye and ate steal-cut oats exclusively. I was almost sure that millet had something to do with the army, but what army? Had George Lucas started some faction I didn’t know about? Would I need a light saber?
The whole itinerary was a little exhausting. My days were unorganized because I didn’t give my kids to the nanny in time to make it to pilates. And even if I did make it to the gym, I was too fat to mount the elliptical, haggle with my personal trainer, and make it to the office to answer fan mail in time.
I also realized I needed better friends. Gwyneth hung out with people like Stella McCartney, while I spent most of my time talking to myself or to people I couldn’t see.
And, for the record, when all my invisible friends found out about Gwyneth’s suggestions, they told me I was crazy.
So, it’s with heavy heart that I’ll be dragging out my day planner, looking for a personal assistant who doesn’t mind being paid in Dove chocolate bar wrappers, and building a loom dedicated solely to underwear making.
And I think I’ll be putting all of Gwen’s fabulous ideas into practice…next Mother’s Day.