So, my son scored a few goals in his soccer game the other day. I couldn’t have been prouder. Yes, he is only four and it’s an instructional rec league, but still. My boy was showing some skill – it still amazes me how proud a mom can be of her kid – even with the smallest things.
Admit it, you’re beaming, too, when your kids show a hint of skill or smarts in anything – it’s human nature. We mamas get very excited to think one of our offspring might excel at something, right? And on the flip side, aren’t we absolutely cringing when our kids embarrass us? In fact, after that same game when one son made me so proud, one of my other kids had an all-out tantrum because I wouldn’t let him have a post-game snack (he DIDN’T PLAY). Eeeek. Hate those parenting moments.
But it got me thinking: what I’m dealing with is small potatoes compared to what celebrities’ moms face everyday.
Imagine being the mom of someone in the public eye. Not one of those moms that writes a tell-all book or stars in her own reality show (think Bieber or Kardashian). The moms behind the scenes are who intrigue me the most. How do they control themselves? Either they’re bursting with pride or crawling into a black hole – I’m not sure my nerves could handle the ups and downs. Could yours?
Take, for example, the mother of Felix Bumgartner, the guy who broke the sound barrier a couple of weeks ago. That woman is a-maz-ing. My stomach drops when I watch my kids climb the big equipment at Carmel Park. This woman watched her son drop from the stratosphere without completely losing her shiz. Does she have a stomach of steel or were they mixing some sedatives in with the Red Bull behind the scenes? Because there is no way I could’ve watched my baby plummet to earth without simultaneously shrieking and throwing up (unless I had some major drugs).
What about a politician’s mom? Does she believe in everything her kid’s party stands for? Or does she secretly vote for the other guy to save herself two or four years of potential embarrassment (You just never know, she might think.)? Can she tell when he’s lying? I can surely call my kids’ bluffs, can she? Did she know when she was wiping his bottom that someone else would still be cleaning up after him when he grew up? I wonder if she watches the negative ads all over TV and screams Not my baby! or whispers Dang, you got it right again.
Does Vince Vaughn’s mom think he’s as hilarious as I do? If so, how does she resist the urge to make him live at home with her and make her laugh all day long like he did when he was a boy?
Then there’s the Manning boys’ mom – how do you birth three unreal athletes and not brag all the time? Maybe she does – maybe her friends roll their eyes when they see her strutting around town in her boys’ jerseys on Any Given Sunday. Who cares – she went to about 1,000,000 football games and practices and cleaned sweaty pads and cleats for years. That woman deserves the Heisman Trophy just for showing up.
What about Mother Teresa’s mom? I don’t know anything about her, but I really hope she knew that she truly birthed a saint. Can you even fathom your child doing so much good? How do you not burst with pride over that? Can you imagine your child in the history books?
Does Ryan Reynolds mom think he’s as hot as I do? Ok, that’s creepy. What I mean is, does she appreciate the beauty she created?
It’s kind of scary in a way – I am sure these moms had no clue what their kids would become just like none of us knows what is possible with our kids. I’m sure we all hope for an ounce of Mother Teresa or smidge of Eli Manning. But what if one of us is raising a bit of a Snookie?
I guess the lesson in all of this is that the older I get, I realize I have a lot more compassion for a celebrity’s mom rather than the actual celebrity (unless you’re Tori Spelling – I feel you, sister – 4 kids 5 and under – just hang on!). I’m not sure if that makes me a sympathetic mother or just a really old celebrity stalker. But I do know I’m just now realizing how amazingly hard it is to have so much at stake emotionally over something that you can barely control.
I guess our only shot at sanity is to learn from the mothers who have gone before – let’s all take notes from Ms. Bumgartner and have whatever it is she was having, shall we?
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