By now you’ve heard that Beyonce and her husband Jay-Z have welcomed their little baby girl, Blue Ivy Carter into this big old crazy world.
Congratulations and God bless the whole family!
I can’t imagine raising a child in these times but they seem like smart people with good hearts so I’m sure they’ll manage. Baby Blue definitely hit the jackpot in the parents game. I’m happy for them.
The thing about babies is that no matter how many are born every day, [almost] everyone that gets one is super excited about the one they got. When the baby is born healthy (and even when it’s not), they bring all kinds of excitement and joy.
They also bring all the jack-wagons who believe it is their incumbent duty to deliver the complete gospel of baby.
From the moment people know you’re expecting they want to tell you everything you’re supposed to do: be sick, be tired, get bloated, waddle everywhere you go, tinkle 4 times an hour…
And of course everything you’re not supposed to do: move around, sit still, be pretty, get ugly, be joyful, wear jeans…
I’ve heard quite a few pieces of wild and unsolicited sage around this particular baby.
Let’s start with the so-called fake baby bump.
I can’t tell you how many articles I passed about this and the long list of comments from people who just knew she wasn’t really pregnant because when they had their baby ...blah, blah, blah.
Listen, it’s great that you had a baby, and your experience was whatever it was, but understand this: You are no Beyonce.
For a million and fourteen reasons, you are not and will not ever be Beyonce. (Look at your husband. Now look at Jay-Z. Now back to your husband. Now back to Jay-Z…)
I know a chick who didn’t start to show until near the end of her 7th month but was waddling for damn near four months before that. SHE HAD NO BELLY FOR SEVEN MONTHS. But she wore the little announcing t-shirts and did everything she could to let any passer-by on the street know the good news to which they would usually reply, “uh, okay.” And occasionally with “Wow, you’re not showing at all!”
But that’s her business. After trying for years with a few unsuccessful
attempts, she was excited and she could wave an “I’m pregnant” banner if she wanted to.
Personally, you wouldn’t know I was pregnant until they rolled my gurney back from the delivery room with a baby in my arms. But that’s me. Everyone’s different.
Every pregnancy is different. And every woman navigates her pregnancy differently. Just because your fat pregnant arse measured 90 inches around the middle doesn’t mean Beyonce had to. Yeah, I said it. And if her dress moved when she sat down, well then it just moved. Get over it.
Then there’s the huge debate about whether she was delivered “naturally” or by cesarean section. The debate being that the couple can’t claim a c-section because then people would want to see the scar. Um. Why? Really, why would you want to see someone else’s scar?
Apparently, this would be proof that she did have a baby. Or, smarty-pants, it would prove that she once had fibroids removed since the scars look pretty darn similar.
And who declared you the post-partum delivery inspector anyway?
What won’t happen in your day if you don’t have proof that someone you don’t personally know – and who doesn’t give a hard wad of gum about you- did or did not give birth to a child? Will you die?
You won’t. I believe a lack of information and/or knowledge can be very detrimental, but believe me when I tell you it doesn’t apply here. I am reminded or a time when I challenged a guy to explode after he told me he would if we didn’t “do it” soon. We never did, and last I heard he was still alive and in one piece.
Then there’s the whole song debacle. Jay-Z recorded a song called “Glory f/ B.I.C” as a tribute to his daughter. (Wow,that looks weird in writing. Jay-Z is someone’s dad!)
Why did he feel the need to inform us about a miscarriage? Because he wanted to tell her about it, or did you notice the song is something of a letter to the baby and not you.
And/or maybe because your nosey behind wanted to know is another possibility. Those complaints reminded me of how many people log into a website to comment the following on an article: And this is news because???
Because you logged into the website to comment. You and everyone like you made it news by making any comment at all. If I click on a news story and it’s not what I thought, I click off of it.
Tada! End of story.
There’s nothing wrong with having an opinion, but opinions are supposed to be thoughts on and interpretations of the facts. Start with the facts, friend.
Later I heard someone on the verge of a coronary because there’s a baby crying at the end of the song. The complaint this time: it’s not a real baby, or it’s not their baby, or it’s a sample from Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely” because, you see, Stevie Wonder is the only recording artist to have ever had a baby.
Man, I love this movie
Anyway, I can respect people’s natural curiosity about things and people. Especially when those things are attached to famous people.
Some of us would like to believe they’re just like us but with more money and lots of luck. Take a moment to pause and think of that friend you have who replies to any comment about a celebrity with “Ahh, that [vulgar label here] ain’t [vulgar descriptive here]’ or the one that sees a celebrity and insists, “I could do that. All you would have to do is…”
Yes, that same friend who is doing the same thing this year as they were last year and will probably still be doing it next year.
On the flip side, some of us would like to believe they’re practically superheroes and nothing they ever do is even remotely close to that of us mere mortals. They don’t eat, sleep, drink or poop. And they don’t have children, they buy them. I wonder why more of them don’t make sure they buy cute ones. I’ve seen some ugly babies out there. Oh, yes. I said that, too.
Curious or not, we are not owed an explanation or information about someone else’s doings unless those doings are somehow infringing upon our rights, or is otherwise illegal.
I don’t need to know why you like to walk around your house naked. I just need you to put on clothes before you leave the house. And should you show up to work nude, I might – might- ask you why. Or I might just run from the room and vomit. Maybe, I don’t know.
But I do know that people share what they want to share or they can share nothing at all. It makes no sense to spend the time or energy huddled up like hens deciding if the information is accurate or has a hidden agenda. Most of us don’t do that much thinking about what we see on the news and we should be concerned, very, very concerned.
Likewise, I can understand people’s need to judge. For some people their entire sense of self isn’t who they are at all; it’s who they were told to be. And no matter how wrong or distorted it is, they believe it and apply it vigorously to everything else in the world.
The good news is that most of these people will never understand how faulty this approach is to life. The world you know is only the world according to you, but you are small and the world is large, so the world you know is probably not the world as it is.
Wait, maybe it’s bad news that they will never understand it.
But let’s not get into so deep. It’s not that serious. It just struck me as funny to hear all the things I had been hearing about these two. Some people were so serious with it, I half expected to go to their house and see the couple pull into the garage next door.
For the sake of letting stupid people feel heard, let’s say all the rumors are true. The baby bump was a fake and they used a surrogate, or found it in a trash can, or ordered it online; it was born by c-section or natural delivery or teletransportion from the alien planet V; the baby your hear at the end of Glory is really Kanye West catching a beat down (one of the more absurd suggestions I heard one morning), let’s say it’s all true.
What business is it of yours?
If people decide to share some information with you, then you can listen, or pretend to listen, or stick your fingers in your ear and loudly launch into a rousing rendition of God Bless America to make it clear that you really don’t want to hear it.
The bonus here is that you probably are not sitting directly across from Jay-Z or Beyonce so they wouldn’t notice if you walked away completely. You can change the channel, switch radio stations, turn the page, or visit another website and they won’t know or be offended.
The only thing more magnificent then the evolution of technology making so much information so readily available, is the presence of mind and the ability to make an intelligent decision about what you want to do with that information.
If you don’t care, don’t care.
If you do care, care … but try doing it in the traditional since of the word: with kindness and consideration.
Otherwise, shut up. Find something else to do. Get a life. And if you can’t figure out how to do that, log on to Amazon and get some beeswax.
And then you’ll have some of your very own to mind.
Good grief. I really gave my age way with that one, didn’t I?
Best wishes to new parents everywhere!
Anthony David does a cover of this that’s not half bad, but nothing beats the original
Level 42 – Something About You
Nicole Wray – If I Was Your Girlfriend
This song has been popping up randomly since the Qream commercial premiered awhile back. I was looking for the commercial and found this full song.
Oh, and for some reason, this commercial
Cat Herders (ad for EDS)