Celebrity Worship

I could never handle being a real celebrity. Sure, I might like the fancy gowns, the maid staff or the stretch limos, but I could not handle the throngs of screaming fans. Day in, day out--people calling your name, trying to get your attention, never giving you a moment's rest or any privacy.

It occurs to me, though, that I am already experiencing this darker side of celebrity . . . in my own home.

Want proof? Let's see:

1) I routinely wake up to find one of my children standing over me, breathing on my face and just watching me sleep. They are apparently unable to resist my star power, even in the dead of night.

2) If I go upstairs and shut the children downstairs behind the beloved, I mean practical, baby gates, they stand at the bottom screaming, "MOMMY!" as if I am Beyonce, standing just out of their reach.

3) The children watch my every move, studying me to find out the latest trends in butt-wiping, nose blowing, and bra removal. They have been even known to rummage through my trash and exclaim, "Mommy, what is this?" as they remove whatever little trinket I am trying to rid myself of.

4) When I am running late for a premiere, or maybe just trying to get dinner on the table, they wrap their arms around my legs, forcing me to drag them around the room, 'ball-and-chain' style. If only I had a body guard. . .

5) Finally, I know I am a celebrity because my fans can so quickly turn on me when things go badly. If I am 'mean mommy' for a day, the tabloids will read, "STOOPID MOMMY" or "UR THE WURST MOMMY". They will sneer when I try to blow kisses or engage them in one of my performance readings of Goodnight Moon.

Fortunately, they soon return to their mommy worship.

And, I think I may be addicted to the limelight.