Attention whoring breeder wonders disingenuously if she should have protected her kids from reality TV

In this article, a mother pretends to ask the question "Should I have let my kids go on reality TV?" but naturally it is merely a device for describing the wonderful specialness of Hero (girl, age 11) who is a musician, and Tybalt (boy, age 10) who is an inventor. For example:

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Attention Whore
Obviously it's hard not to be amazed by your child's talent, but it seems hers is obvious to other people. A top casting director once rushed up to me after Hero had sung in a cathedral in the south of France insisting that she hadn't seen that quality since casting a young Kate Winslet. More recently, when Hero was recording some solos for a CD of hymns, a music producer who won an Ivor Novello award and has worked with many children, including Charlotte Church, told me that Hero was the most talented and professional child he had ever worked with.

She also takes a bit of time to air the family's dirty laundry, ensuring that her children will be stuck in this non-private life. It was agreed she'd do Angel; a song about an addict giving into death. This was hard for a child whose dad is an addict and who had recently lost someone in the family to suicide. "The words mean too much," she said.

As pretty much all the comments stated, if you are concerned about exposing your children when they are too young, writing articles about them is the wrong way to go about protecting them. Most of them also agreed that it was wrong to expose children to this sort of attention and that the mother shouldn't even need to ask (not that she was asking, she was just justifying her actions), and of course several picked on the Shakespearean names, which are her attempt to scream "I am highly educated and my children are unique!"

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This reads like one of the awful Christmas letters that my parents get from other people bragging about the achievements of their children under the guise of giving "news".

But, as it turns out, this isn't all that she's shared with the public about her (and her children's) private lives. She also wrote about The four lovers who healed my broken heart. When her jailbird husband left her for the nanny, Lady Alice Douglas despaired of ever recovering from the blow. Then life took a passionate and surprising turn. Is she writing a Penthouse letter here?

Also: Lady? I think not, at least if one argues that a gentleman would never betray his intimacy with a lady, with the corollarry being that a lady should be above listing the names of her lovers (along with ages, and nicknames she used), using their photos, and describing her affairs with them in a national newspaper, especially when she is also going to write about her young children.

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Attention Whore
The idea of sex with another man loomed. I categorically believed that I was incapable of making love to anyone other than Simon. I could not imagine touching, let alone sleeping, with anybody else.

It was a feeling very much tied up with the fact that he was the father of my children. Once I slept with another man I would be breaking so much more than my bond with one other person; I would be facing the reality that my family was fractured irrevocably.

But I knew I could never escape from the memory of Simon until I had dissolved the sexual bond that existed between us.

She has a talent for picking real winners, too. If she weren't titled, with connections in the TV business, and wealthy, I have no doubt that she'd be viewed as just another talentless moo bemoaning her shitty life choices.

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Attention Whore
I'd been in relationships almost continuously from my 20s and had lost any ability to be on my own. The marital home was a temporary building site with boarded-up holes where windows should be and I was utterly terrified. My husband Simon and I had met in Blundeston Prison in the mid-Nineties.

I was a marquess's daughter with a privileged upbringing, an acting career and a flat in Notting Hill. Simon was an armed robber serving nine years who'd grown up on a council estate.

But in the confines of the prison walls, our very different upbringings didn't matter. As part of the acting workshop I ran in the prison, he played a handsome Macbeth to my Lady Macbeth.

Despite family and friends decrying the match, after a 15-month romance, we married. We went on to have a daughter, Hero, seven, and a son, Tybalt, six, and bought a disused church in Snowdonia. It could have been idyllic. The problems came when I discovered Simon's drug habit, then his affair.

Oh yeah, she can really pick them. David, the divorced dad: Over a glass or two, we discovered a rapport. He had also lived in the same house as his ex-wife and they both had non-molestation orders against each other. We toasted our inability to achieve amicable divorces. And now for 'Steve the Domestic God' and his anger issues:

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Attention Whore
He seemed to love me and want to be with me. He poured attention on me constantly and it seemed a match made in heaven.

But an anger lurked beneath the surface. In the morning he was always bright and breezy and wanted me to shower him with delightful kisses. I was more prone to grunting but did my best to appease him with a laboured peck on the cheek.

My lack of gushing affection began to cause cracks in his perfect veneer. One morning when I gave him too sleepy a kiss he smashed my cutlery on the floor and stormed out.

You can also read about her husband's affair. I can see both parents are really trying hard to keep their private lives private. What a fucking boatload of drama:

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He said: "As I spent more time with Magda, it was an easier relationship than I had with Alice at the time.

"We didn't have the worries, the history, we didn't have any arguments.

"More and more it was Magda I had the fun with, who wanted the same things as me, who joked about the same things as me and Alice became more alienated.
...
Simon, also a former lance-corporal with the Royal Welch Fusiliers, says he felt more and more neglected by Alice, who spent much of her time with the children.

He said: "There are two double beds and the children and Alice were in one and I was in the other. We were quite hostile towards each other and I felt angry.
...
Six weeks later, after much soul-searching, Lady Alice allowed the man who had betrayed her back into their home, a converted chapel in Capel Curig.

The children missed him and, as a way of earning money, she paid him a salary to look after the kids.

I am just--whatever the complete opposite of 'shocked' is--to learn that she is a co-sleeper. Also gentle discipline? It's suggested in her homeschooling experience in Alice Douglas is finding that educating her kids herself is a lonely business where she expresses horror over screaming at a child who was misbehaving.

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Attention Whore
Then, last week, my parenting went horribly wrong. I screamed at Tybalt. He wasn't doing anything dangerous, just throwing handfuls of cat food in the air, while I argued with BT on the telephone. I was shocked at my anger and felt overwhelmed with doubt about whether my decision has really been the right one for my children. By choosing to keep them at home, I have put pressure on all our relationships. They want to visit castles, look for dens in the forest, make towering cakes and paint rainbows on the walls. But hours out of every day seem to get eaten up in the endless cycle of sweeping the floor, replying to letters and washing clothes. And as I trudge through these chores, I ask myself: is this what I want for my children?

She's not really very different from Dooce or Julie Myerson, is she?

you sure this wasn't a contest for some romance story competition? this is the most contrived, sappiest crap-no wonder there aren't many decent welsh authors.

Unless it's a new viral sort of story-writing where you plaster your story across several different newspapers in a series of articles over the years, I'm afraid this woman is in earnest. And since I sincerely doubt her ability to come up with such a clever way of selling her drama, I have no choice but to conclude that she is serious, and not especially talented.

I fucking hate people who think the world revolves around them. This article made me want to heave.

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Hero and her younger brother Tybalt

All right, hold it right there! Hero and Tybalt? T'is pity there's much ado about love's labors lost, Dr. Faustus! (If we're going to mix Shakespearean characters, why not mix playwrights, too?)

Enter the mother (and we're talking a mother of a mother), center stage: "Ah, regardez-moi! Shall I place my daughter and son before the madding crowd? Tybalt hath even designed a mummy thermometer for me to wear anon! and to tell him how cross I'm getting. He gave it to me as a present and it fits neatly into my iPod armband. When I press a button, it illuminates a series of red lights to show if I'm getting angry. One light is a bit cross and five means I am furious. He waxed damn near poetic whilst saying: 'At least I have some warning before your head pops off and you start screaming like a banshee.' Else, beshrew my heart, amen." Exunt.

Mommy Dearest had nothing on this stage mother! I fear there shall be no taming of this shrew!

ShimmyMuse: larious

Props to Shimmy too!

Newspapers will be dead in under five years, and whores like these are helping to bang the nails in the coffin

Did anyone else have to leave the computer to go hurl?

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kbc
Did anyone else have to leave the computer to go hurl?

Ah! You made it all the way to the bathroom! Good for you! *Wipes 'puter*

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ShimmyMuse

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kbc
Did anyone else have to leave the computer to go hurl?

Ah! You made it all the way to the bathroom! Good for you! *Wipes 'puter*

I tried and got into the kitchen

Me thinks evolution has passed her by....the lights are on, but nobody's home.

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equus amor
Me thinks evolution has passed her by....the lights are on, but nobody's home.

Spotlight on Moo, but nobody's in the audience! larious

"Ah, me! Shall I expose my children? Shall I? People, are you listening? I said expose my children! Where is everybody?" What a whore, man.

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ShimmyMuse

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Hero and her younger brother Tybalt

All right, hold it right there! Hero and Tybalt? T'is pity there's much ado about love's labors lost, Dr. Faustus! (If we're going to mix Shakespearean characters, why not mix playwrights, too?)

Enter the mother (and we're talking a mother of a mother), center stage: "Ah, regardez-moi! Shall I place my daughter and son before the madding crowd? Tybalt hath even designed a mummy thermometer for me to wear anon! and to tell him how cross I'm getting. He gave it to me as a present and it fits neatly into my iPod armband. When I press a button, it illuminates a series of red lights to show if I'm getting angry. One light is a bit cross and five means I am furious. He waxed damn near poetic whilst saying: 'At least I have some warning before your head pops off and you start screaming like a banshee.' Else, beshrew my heart, amen." Exunt.

Mommy Dearest had nothing on this stage mother! I fear there shall be no taming of this shrew!

'sblood-she's Welsh...you need to your best Fluellen!

"Pehold! Regardez-moi! Shall I place my daughter and son before the madding crowd? Tybalt hath even designed a mummy thermometer for me to wear anon! and to tell him how cross I'm getting. He gave it to me as a present and it fits neatly into my iPod armpand. When I press a putton, it illuminates a series of red lights to show if I'm getting angry. One light is a pit cross and five means I am furious. He waxed damn near poetic whilst saying: 'At least I have some warning pefore your head pops off and you start screaming like a panshee.' Else, peshrew my heart, amen." Exunt.