I'm no Baldwin

Often I am chagrined at my behavior as a parent — the times I tell Shawn Joaquin the TV is broken so that I can avoid one more viewing of the Backyardigans, or that NO, that is NOT a cookie but some daddy food that tastes YUCKY. I have never raised my voice to him except once when he was in danger of running into the street, and when I call him Demando or Gregg calls him Knucklehead it's always with great affection and usually followed by a kiss and a hug and some light pinching of his round little cheek. Yet still I feel guilty about various things. Until today.

Today, I realized that while there seem to be countless Baldwins, I am not one of them. Never will I call my daughter a selfish little pig or threaten to get on a plane to come out and kick her ass, as Alec Baldwin was recently outted for doing.

Listen to his sweet message here:


Alec Baldwin has now had his custodial rights temporarily suspended, and lieu of apology lashed out at his ex, Kim Bassinger, for leaking the message to the press.

All of us have moments we're not proud of. Moments when our parenting is not Child magazine material, when we are glad that no one is there to see us do a half-assed job at diaper changing or feed our child something that is oh-so-easy and oh-so-bad for them. We often are thankful that nanny cams are not built into the walls for our friends and family to watch us, not because we are ever abusive but perhaps lax or befuddled or momentarily negligent or snappish. But in this case Mr. Baldwin has gone beyond snappish and into brutish territory. And that is when I go from watching 30 Rock just to see his wonderful acting to posting his horrible voicemail message so that the countless...dozens...who read my blog can join me in loathing him for reviling his own daughter. Feel free to share the loathe.

Good night, Alec Baldwin. May you join your brothers in the hell that is B-movies.