Lifestyles of the Rich and Babied : Seems many celebrities have joined the parenthood club. How <i> do </i> they manage their mega-busy lives?
Hello, viewers, and welcome to Lifestyles of the Rich and Frazzled.
The recent celebrity baby boom, the ab-so-lute talk of glitterati, finds everyone from Whitney to Kirstie to-- could that be Tom Cruise ?--giving parenthood a try.
Today we’ll visit the gracious mega-spreads of some of the mega-stars to find out: How do they do it? What can we learn about mega-parenting from their perfectly star-studded mega-lives?
Don’t touch that dial . . .
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First stop, poolside at the $5-million Los Angeles home of cinema heartthrob Cruise and his lovely wife, Nicole Kidman, newly adoptive parents of little Isabella. Tom, you’re looking . . . well, you’re looking awful. Bags under the eyes, elongated stains down the front of the Armani shirt. You’re not sure what’s happening? You’ve forgotten: The first law of new parenthood, known as the Theory of Relative Angst, says the rate at which babies soil clothes and parents is exceeded only by the rate at which they wake up between 11 p.m. and 7 a.m. to eat, spit and . . .
True, it’s not so hot for the looks, but it probably won’t last. Just teach little Isabella that night is for napping and day is for doing laundry, period. If that doesn’t work, you can always change the sequel title to “A Few Rumpled Men.”
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Next, we go to the lavishly appointed Manhattan apartment of Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg, who recently gave birth to little John Bouvier Kennedy Schlossberg, Caroline’s third child but first son, which, let’s face it, is sort of like having the New York Giants move in to help you dismantle the furniture, but what the hey? Caroline! You’ve already bolted the Chippendale to the floor? Good. But it looks like that’s not the only thing coming apart at the seams. Try a meditation class. Breathe deeply and repeat the mantra of mothers: I Am in Control . . . I Am in Control . . .
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Zipping back to the Coast on our increasingly disquieting quest for parental perfection, we check in with music producer Quincy Jones and Nastassja Kinski, who last month gave birth to little Kenya Julia Niambi Sarah Jones. Uh oh. Under no circumstances should this child be allowed to marry the aforementioned JBK Schlossberg, unless the world is truly ready for Kenya Julia Niambi Sarah Bouvier Kennedy Schlossberg-Jones. Quincy, you’ve been too busy navigating the baby seat in and out of the Ferrari. You forgot about the ‘90s conglomerate baby-name crisis. . . .
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The news should be sunnier at the stunning digs of three-time Academy Award nominee Michelle Pfeiffer, newly adoptive single mother of baby Claudia Rose--but unfortunately, it isn’t. Michelle, your famous lips are quivering. You didn’t know babies use their mouths to explore the world around them? They do. Stand back, this is not an infant. This is Robo-Baby--the bionic child with vacuum-powered lips, hellbent on gumming the toe of your left Chanel pump. Holy Oral Destructor, Batman! Those things cost $1,000 a pair! Get the family photos, legal papers, leather gloves and the remaining shoe out of reach and keep those two cellular phone lines open--one to call the pediatrician, the other to call the leather restorer.
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Do we dare look in on beautiful “Cheers” star Kirstie Alley? Why not? Kirstie, is it true what we read in the tabloids, that you HIRED A BODYGUARD TO PROTECT YOUR NEW BABY!? Question: Is the bodyguard a documented worker? Are you paying his Social Security and worker’s comp? Does he change diapers? Is he a licensed child-care provider? Do you plan to run for public office?
You want real bodyguard problems, Kirstie? Check out Monaco, where Princess Stephanie debates hiring a bodyguard for the baby she just had with her bodyguard-turned-paramour, while grandpa Prince Rainier wonders who’s going to keep the family fortune safe from all those bodyguards. Viewers, are your heads mega-spinning too?
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On now to the elegant New Jersey estate of pop diva Whitney Houston and tiny daughter, Bobbi, and here we find--perfection. Little Bobbi, no doubt the most anticipated, most thoroughly covered baby in all of Tabloid-dom is . . . signing movie contracts! She’s already become more of a media star than her mother. Whitney, you might feel a touch of baby envy? It’s natural. The excitement will pass. You will be center stage again. So scrap that draft of a new song, “I Will Always Love You . . . I Think.”
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Of course, the trials of new parenthood do pass. To show you just how quickly, we make a final visit, this one to the Los Angeles mansion of Lakers legend Earvin (Magic) Johnson, his wife, Cookie, and their 10-month-old son, Earvin III. Little Earvin is on the brink of the exciting toddler stage. And here he comes now, definitely toddling. Look at that upper body strength! He’s carrying-- the Waterford vase! Daddy Earvin rushes in to block the shot. Baby Earvin pivots. He eyes the crystal chandelier. Daddy weaves. Baby breaks forward. Can he make it? He spins. What a leap! It’s a . . . Yesssssss .
