Hi! I'm Eva Longoria, it's nice to meet you!

And this, this is my husband, Tony Parker. Thanks for stopping by!

Yesterday, as I was sitting down to a nice bowlful of soup (I am sick, augh) with T.D. (who is for now, not sick, yeah!) I was found myself reading Parade magazine. I know. I hate it too. It's horribly vapid and doesn't help me in any way but I needed something look at instead of thinking about eating soup and breathing through my mouth at the same time. I haven't gotten around to teaching T.D. how to save someone from 'soup in the lung syndrome' yet either.

While viewing the article about Eva Longoria T.D. kept pointing to a picture of Eva and Tony Parker while adamantly shouting, "Momma! Dada!", over and over again. I kept correcting her but she was quite sure that I am in fact Eva Longoria and Daddy is Tony Parker. It doesn't matter that I'm a blond.

This is a new thing in our house. Every blond on TV or in a magazine suddenly becomes Momma. Flattering? Yes. In one day I have not just been Eva but also Katherin Heigl and some chick on Without a Trace. H has only been Tony Parker and a random policeman on the news. I keep correcting T.D. but she won't listen. It's delusional but isn't it nice to be told you look like this




even when you are still in sweaty workout gear and suffering from a head cold? I'm not going to correct that anymore. She'll figure it out and when she hits 14 and wishes to look nothing like her Momma and all I'll have are these memories.

In the meantime I think I'm going to go through my days thinking that I am indeed some hot surgeon on a hit TV show or a crime fighter for the FBI. I walk the red carpets just as easily as I glide through our local Bloom store I must say and I do love sitting court side watching H play basketball. It's lovely being delusional. Only thing? I can't seem to locate my personal assistant, nanny and larger bank account.


Image from People magazine.