Sinead Ryan: Gwynnie, you're not like us..so hold the advice to moms
Some people have it tough -- there's no doubt about it. You absolutely have to feel sorry for Gwyneth Paltrow's children. Between the laid-out-the-night-before ballet costumes, the obligatory spoon of 'lemon flavoured flax oil' for breakfast and the stupid names they've been called, poor little Apple and Moses haven't got a chance.
Dad may be a famous rock star but Mom is just, well, embarrassing. In a fit of mid-life crisis Gwynnie has decided she too can become a singer (although cringingly, she's chosen Country 'n' Western so as not to show up the hubby, don't you know) and has decided, along with everything else (oh, right, then, not much else), to tell the rest of us how to arrange our lives.
Her blog which she calls GOOP (her initials phonetically ... oh, forget it, it took us a while too), has nuggets of wisdom which even the most hard-pressed mom can learn from. Not happy with the fiercely strict Macro-biotic diet, Gwynnie has decided not just to ditch the "I'd rather die than let my kid eat Cup-A-Soup" moment but has dropped the vegan/ vegetarian semi-normal stuff to boot. It's full on for our Gwyn as she embraces real life . . . or not, depending on what you make of her advice column.
"A day in the life . . . " should have been a relatively benign insight into the existence of a minor celebrity. After all, Gwyn looks great, regularly tops the red carpet list and juggles two children with a demanding job. Well, anyway, she selected a diary of what she termed "one of my more manic days" and let the rest of us inside it to tell us how we, too, can do it all. Big Mistake. Stick with the acting, love.
Among Gwynnie's pearls of wisdom are "Schedule your time. Write it on a calendar". I know -- why the hell didn't we think of it! Think of the hours saved. Second, "Plan a rough menu". Honey, if I was eating flax seeds and nuts for lunch I'd be fairly rough, trust me. Finally, "Get your food delivered". Someone should tell Tesco, really, they'd make a fortune.
Gwynnie starts her day with a disaster of epic proportions. The coffee machine is broken. "Wouldn't let me make the cup of coffee I had been dreaming about," she cries before picking up the phone to her therapist. Now I know Chris Martin isn't everyone's cup of nespresso, but really? Coffee dreams?
Next the kids have to be got out of bed. They get eggs and the aforementioned 'lemon flavoured flax oil' for brekkie. Well, as long as it's flavoured it's not child abuse, I suppose. After the school run it's back for her dance aerobics class, butt lifts "and the like". Her conditioner was allowed to "work its magic" on her hair while she did her stretches.
Look, I know this is TMI (too much information). If you're seriously distressed, stop reading. Gwynnie's day won't improve your mood. A few interviews (over the phone, nothing too taxing) and it's off to dress fittings for a trip to Nashville. With her stylist, obviously.
This is the fourth out of five fittings, we're told. Phew, thought you were slumming it there for a minute, G! She tells us it's "nerve wracking" and she has B.O. to boot.
A batch of cupcakes for the following day is put in the oven and G allows the kids have one each. "They've had a brown rice stir fry for dinner," so she doesn't feel guilty about the sugar-trip. I know which one I'd feel guilty about. Then she heads out for dinner with her pals and the whole crazy caboodle starts again tomorrow.
So ladies -- there's your bible. Gwyneth fails to tell us when to fill the dishwasher, do all the ironing, hoover the house or put out the bins.
Still, you'll have staff for that, right?