Monday, June 24, 2013

The Descendants

I know I may be a little too late with this news, but I needed sufficient time to process it.

So, that jerk Kanye West and that what-is-she-famous-for-again? Kim Kardashian had a baby. Not that I care. I only prayed that Taylor Swift waited around in the delivery room, and then, as the doctor passed the baby to Kanye, Taylor jumped up, grabbed it out of his hands, and said, “Yo, imma letchoo hold yo baby in a minute, but I just wan’ e’r’body in hee to know that Beyonce had one o’the best deliveries of all time.”

Fine, fine, enough with the jokes. Let’s be serious for a moment and ask ourselves, “Why do Kanye and Kim hate their daughter?” I mean, the girl is just a few days old and already, she is the target of numerous jokes because of her name. Honestly, do these two not know that they are serving her on a silver platter at a comedy buffet? And anyone is welcome to pick up a fork a take a stab. This girl is going to have a tough time growing up. Not only will she have to deal with the fact that her dad is a condescending, microphone-grabbing, award-air-time-stealing,  nobody-cares- what-he’s-babbling-about idiot and her mom is just another reality TV nobody, but she’ll have to deal with kids throwing things like maps, compass, and other navigational tools at her head. Trust me. I know. I’ve been working with children for over a decade, and I'm sad to say that they get worse every year. So why, as a parent, would anyone contribute to humiliating, bullying, and scarring their own child for life? Or at least till the time when the kids get to take a stand, give their parents a you’re a douche bag look, then file in the line to change their name.


But! Kanye and Kim are not the only ones who joined the march against providing their child with a somewhat normal childhood. I think it must be a celebrity complex. You know, something they can’t pop a pill for. That need to be in the spotlight, to be noticed, talked about. The need to constantly keep up with and then out-do other celebrity Jonses. Receiving positive attention wears off quickly; even the regular Joes know that. You know, you get an award, diploma, promotion, whatever. You celebrate by going to dinner or having a party, but that’s it. It’s over. After that you’re just you again.


Being just YOU is a celebrity death sentence. And that is why the constant drama. They’ve figured out a long time ago that negative attention is way better than positive attention or, heaven forbid, even no attention, and that is why they pass it on to their kids. It's the only certainty that someone will talk about them even after they’re long gone. People will be able to say, “Oh, you’re North West? Yeah, I remember when your dad snatched Taylor Swift’s microphone while she was getting an award and said that Beyonce’s song was better. What a jerk!”

Now, I’m no shrink, but I think that the celebrities’ decision to give their children the most odd and abnormal names is a cry for help. So let’s help these folks! How? Laughter…it’s the best medicine.


Erykah Badu & Andre 3000
– son, Seven Sirius (there’s only one, siriously)

Beyonce & Jay Z
– daughter, Blue Ivy (Green Ivy was already taken…by a plant!)

Christie Brinkley & Peter Cook
– daughter, Sailor Lee (they wanted a yacht instead)

Mariah Carey & Nick Cannon
– son, Moroccan Scott (neither Moroccan, nor Scottish)
– daugther, Monroe (neither the President, nor Marilyn)

Bob Geldof & Paula Yates
– daughters: Fifi Trixibelle, Peaches HoneyblossomLittle Pixie (just kidding; they’re not daughters, they’re fairies)

Rachel Griffiths & Andrew Taylor
– son, Banjo (c’mon; not even guitars want to claim a relation)   
                                                          
Lance Henriksen & Mary Jane Henriksen
– daughter, Alcamy (as in Alchemy, as in witchcraft, as in “aren’t you glad you weren’t born between 1480-1750?”)

Barbara Hershey & David Carradine
– son, Free (wake up! kids are anything but)

Kate Hudson & Chris Robinson
– son, Ryder (closet admirers of David Hasselhoff’s Knight Rider)

Kate Hudson & Matt Bellamy
– son, Bingham (named after uncle Bada and aunt Black Forest)          
                                         
Michael Hutchence (RIP) & Paula Yates
– daughter, Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily (apparently these two thought flowers grow in the sky)

Penn Jillette & Emily Jillette
– daughter, Moxie CrimeFigther (Superhero Sprite)

Simon LeBon & Yasmin Parvaneh
– daughters: Amber Rose Tamara, Saffron Sahara, Tallulah Pine (I’m sorry; are we naming kids after bath salts now?)

Jamie Oliver & Jools Oliver
– daughters: Poppy Honey (from the Naked Chef’s own spice cabinet) and Daisy Boo (apparently some fascination with flowers and Halloween)

Ving Rhames & Deborah Reed
– daughter, Reignbeau (spelling error: Rainbow)
– son, Freedom (named after George Michael’s hit)

Shannyn Sossamon & Dallas Clayton
– son, Audio Science (no comment, just sorry)

Sylvester Stallone & Sasha Czak
– daughter, Sage Moonblood (to ward off any more vampire books/movies)
– son, Seargeoh (really the gardener Sergio’s son)

And I could go on and on. But I won’t because I just received news that Drake Bell decided to name his firstborn Taco; Hale Berry’s children will be called Blue, Black, and Rasp; Orlando Bloom’s promising to name his kids after flowers to make it count; 50 Cent will have twins called Quarters; and M&M’s, I mean Eminem’s kids are going to be Good & Plenty.


Friday, June 7, 2013

There's a Gator Under My Daughter's Bed

When I was a child, I hated my mother’s bragging about me. Not that she did it often, but when she did, I would always drop my gaze to the ground and feel my cheeks flush. I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal getting straight As and numerous awards. It all just seemed to come so easily, and I never really had a difficult time at school. What I dreaded the most were the adults’ questions that followed immediately after they’d heard my mom’s bragging. They’d always ask me silly, tricky questions I had to answer in order to prove that I really did earn my marks and prizes. It was uncomfortable and pathetic. I shouldn’t have had to prove anything to anyone. And that is why I swore I would never do anything even remotely similar to my kids.

I broke that oath.

Like any proud parent, I love to brag about my children’s achievements. It is indeed selfish, and I know it. But it, to some extent, proves that I’ve done something right. :o)
Today, I just must brag about my daughter, Viktoria. You know the saying, The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Well, this apple seems to only have fallen right by the trunk. Viktoria brought home her collection of creative writing from school, and after I’d read through it, there was only one thing I could say: This girl has a gift! She is funny and her imagination is untainted.

Here’s one of her short stories.

 Alligator Under My Bed
by
Viktoria Cruz


You probably wouldn’t believe this, but I have an alligator under my bed. I have some big difficulties in the morning and when I want to play in my room. When I get up in the morning and step on the floor, the gator lashes out at my foot, but he always misses because I quickly pull it back. I have to literally jump out of bed to get to my closet. When I put on my clothes, the gator is always staring at me like he wants to eat me. Sometimes when I take a little snack to my room, he thinks I’m trying to lure him out. I can’t even watch TV because he ate the remote. I hate this alligator! He’s always making trouble for me. Every time I leave the room, he either rips up my clothes or bed sheets or tears the heads off my dolls. There is nothing worse he could do. Well, except eat me.

 How about them apples?