Week 146- scurvy, ugly crying and The Goslinator's having a baby...

So. It's happened. I knew it would eventually. I was hoping it wouldn’t be while I was a hormonal, sleep-deprived mess, but there you go.

I found out at 4am, on Facebook of all things, while feeding my son.

It just made it feel so cheap.

RYAN GOSLING IS GOING TO HAVE A BABY.
  

And worst of all, I thought he’d split up with his girlfriend so I wasn’t even a bit prepared for the devastating news. Damn you, Google.

Now. I’m not a total psycho. I didn’t actually believe that I was going to meet/date/get married to/have children with The Goslinator.

But he has been a bit of a constant crush throughout parenthood.

I’d seen The Notebook like the rest of the female population several years ago.

But it wasn’t until I rewatched it when four months pregnant with my daughter that I had massive hormone rush, ugly cried for a good hour after the film had finished and thought it would be a constructive use of my time to watch the whole back catalogue of Goslo films.

My daughter’s early years are somehow interwoven with his silver screen appearances.

The first time she took a step was round the same time I watched Drive. I went to the cinema to watch Only God Forgives after her third set of injections. A friend and I saw The Place Beyond the Pines when she’d started sleeping through the night.

The list goes on.

But I knew this couldn’t go on for forever. Partly because I need to grow up and mainly because he’s stopped starring in films.

So, it’s time to man up and get over it.

I have two children. I’m attempting to write a play when they’re both asleep. I have a flat that seems to haemorrhage dirt and dust the moment I leave a room. I need to learn how to cook something other than pasta and pesto before everyone under our roof gets scurvy.

I don’t really have time for a Hollywood crush.

But it suddenly dawned on me that he had been my guilty pleasure. In the same way that, pre-children, it had been smoking/binge-drinking/dancing in clubs to bad 80s music.

And that to balance being a parent with not going nuts, I was going to have to find another ‘hobby’.

So I’ve subscribed to Netflix and am going to watch the whole of Orange is the New Black on my own.

It’s no Prisoner Cell Block H but I do feel a bit better.

And if I ever DO meet The Goslotron, we will now have parenthood in common so it’s not the end of the world.