Assuming, arguendo, that I didn’t have reason before, I am now starting to fear for my sanity. I had some precious free time and what did I do? Do you think I did laundry or cleaned the kitchen (or anything else) or set up the mise en scene for a craft project this afternoon?
No, I didn’t.
I didn’t because I was too busy looking for Google images of Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem’s baby boy Leo. I keep wondering where the full US Magazine spread of little Leo is. All I could find were some grainy shots of the perfect Latino trio vacationing in Italy– “Look! Celebs are just like us! They vacation in Positano with their little ones in Baby Bjorns!”
Right. Penelope and Javier are just like me. Except we have decided not to travel as a family, unless there is an emergency (like a civil war on American soil), until Simon is 7. We’ve got 5.6 years to go. And when we do, we will probably not be headed to picturesque Italy– we will probably head to Springfield, Illinois to explore the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, because we are comfortably ensconced in the 99%.
Also, my hair won’t be long and luscious like Penny’s, my legs won’t be tan, and I probably won’t have a stylish swimsuit cover-up to sport at the motel swimming pool, unless you count the terry cloth wrap-around towel I got at Costco last year. (It’s pink and yellow, so maybe that does count.)
I actually think it’s good parenting and very admirable that the BarCruz’s (I just made that name up– let’s take it viral) have not exploited baby Leo. It’s just that if they did, then I could spend my time being jealous of their alleged perfection in stead of being jealous of all the people in my actual life.
And you too.
Yes, you too, I am jealous of you even though I don’t really know you, because that doesn’t stop me.
And you? I didn’t know you read my blog! Thanks. And, yes, I am most certainly jealous of you.