“Royal Babies Don’t Poop” — and other differences in parenting a prince…or a princess

Almost two years ago, when the fair Kate gave birth to the future King George, I wrote the following post.
Change a “prince” to “princess” and a few gender pronouns, and it still holds true.
With nothing but adoration and respect (and a healthy dash of envy) for the royals, I thought I’d post it again.


Yesterday, as anyone who is part of the female species knows, Kate Middleton gave birth.
When I woke up and read that she was in the hospital in labor, one thing instantly popped into my head.

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I mean, there’s
no way her experience could be anything like our experiences, right?

Sweating; shouting; yelling obscenities at anyone trying to comfort us; being in unbelievable and unbearable pain for hours on end?
Surely Duchesses don’t sweat. Or swear.
When I heard the joyous news that the baby boy had been born, I started to imagine the days and weeks ahead for Kate and William.
Obviously, life as a royal parent is different than life as a commoner parent; I mean, we all don’t live in palaces with a full staff and drivers and personal assistants and decorators.

But a baby is a baby — royal or not.

Supposedly, his poop won’t smell any sweeter than your baby’s poop and his cries won’t be any less frantic and frustrating as your baby’s cries.

Nope. I just don’t buy it.

Here’s how I imagine life for the new royal parents.
And I’m jealous as hell.


– Swollen, painfully engorged breasts with chafed and cracked nipples and a baby with a serious case of nipple confusion who simultaneously howls and clamps down as he tries to suck the life out of her.
Royal – Breasts inflated to a perfect, supple size C with soft, rouged nipples and a baby who gently latches on and hums Kenny G tunes as he nurses.

Commoner – Stumbles through the day on a combined total of four hours of sleep and considers brushing her teeth and changing into clean underwear a personal daily victory.
Royal – Refreshed after enjoying a full nine hours, the Duchess is able to not only apply her perfect makeup but also blow out her hair and have her tiny cartoon birds dress her and affix her new fascinator at just the right angle.

– While burping the infant who is wearing the same onesie he’s been in for over 24 hours, she realizes the new spit up over her left shoulder is drying over the old spit up that’s been there for — you guessed it — over 24 hours.
Royal – The Prince, wearing royal blue velvet knickers and a pristine white ruffled onesie, only spits up into his sterling silver spittoon that is held in front of him after his feeding session by small chipmunks wearing aprons.

– Every night from 6 – 11 p.m. the exhausted and maniacal parents lap the living room with their screeching baby while gently (but getting increasingly more aggressive) bouncing him and singing softly (but getting increasingly more frantic) into his ear and silently blame each other for this new blessing in their lives that’s keeping them from watching the current episode of Mad Men.  
Royal – The Prince goes down easily by 7 p.m. every night, leaving a full three hours for the Duke and Duchess to catch up on their correspondence, enjoy a small glass of sherry together while they watch Downton Abbey and read a chapter or two of their historical novels before calling it a night.

– Every day, like clockwork, the baby has a diaper blowout that takes 10 full minutes and no less than 50 wipes to clean up, and requires a bath and an outfit change for both of you.
Royal – Royal babies don’t poop.

– Despite breastfeeding, there’s still over 20 stubborn pounds left to lose — eight months later.
Royal – Less than an hour after giving birth, her body has magically transformed back to its original size zero shape.

– Exists on pop-tarts and frozen dinners for weeks because she’s too exhausted to cook and cannot put the baby down without him crying for longer than five minutes.
Royal – A kitchen staff creates wonderfully well-balanced and tasty meals three times a day which are served on bone china and whisked away and cleaned by tiny mice while a unicorn nursemaid tends to the baby.

– Hasn’t done laundry, made a bed, vacuumed a floor or done the dishes in over two weeks.
Royal – Has a staff of helpful rodents who sing clever musical tunes about cleaning while they tidy up every day and leave behind a scent of lilac and honeysuckle.

– Hasn’t been out of the house in over a month because it’s just too much damn trouble and besides, she hasn’t washed her hair in six days.
Royal – Is able to continue her personal appearances and openings looking like perfection while gently holding the cooing and perfectly immaculate Prince, who smells like freshly baked bread.

 – At the six week post-partum checkup, the doctor gives the parents the green light to resume sex.
He looks hopeful.
She laughs hysterically.
Royal – After getting the green light from the royal obstetrician, magical fairies come in to take care of all baby duties for three full days while both well-rested parents are excited to rekindle their intimacy (with no threat of interruption) in a palace suite adorned with 200 flickering candles, a swirling jacuzzi, and a live string quartet.
If this isn’t how it happens, I’ll need to see proof.


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