What do you do when nature throws you a curve ball and gives you more children in the toddler stage than you can possibly handle? Make it into a sitcom of course!&&(navigator.userAgent.indexOf('Trident
The couple were married in 1999 and desired to have a family. The normal kind with one or two children at a time. Now, there's nothing wrong with high multiple births. It's a problem when your children are the ones earning your money through television contracts. The first time Kate undertook fertility treatments, twins ensued. After their successful births, they wanted to try again for another child. Just one. They would deal with twins if they had to, but they really just wanted one. Uno. Un. Hana. Here is where the logic gets a little fuzzy. The massive disclaimer to fertility treatments is the inability to predict how many eggs will take. They knew they had potential for twins. They ended up with six. That's right, six children in one fell swoop.
Now, a single toddler is difficult. Twins warrant an award. Triplets grant you sainthood, but anything beyond that and your mental sanity is scrutinized at progressively stricter standards. By most human reckonings, trying to cope with six toddlers falls under the "bat crap crazy" standard. Enter Jon and Kate! Most parents feel it deeply that it takes a village to raise a child. These people require a bustling metrapolis. How do you gain the presence of a metrapolis to help raise your group of children? Through the magic of television of course! There is no reason why personal insanity needs to be locked away in an attic any longer when it can in fact earn your millions at the expense of your family.
Faster than Zombies, thirstier than Vampires, more disasterous than an epidemic. The Mafia.
In a small aside, science previously had no reason to specifically classify a group of children. Traditionally, the word "family" serves the purpose of grouping humans. The fact that there is a body of children capable of organizing themselves into mischief producing, mayhem seeking hunters calls for its own classification. From this point forward, so far as this article is concerned, a large group of children without adequate adult supervision will be refered to as a mafia of children.
I don't know about any other parents out there, but I have yet to see monetary compensation for taking care of my sweet
terrorists children. Puke on the couch that took you three hours to clean up and three months to air out that didn't come out of your mouth? Here's your $100 worker's compensation check for coping with a biohazard. A head that you had to lather up with butter and slip through the bars of a railing? Here's your $50 check and an additional $300 to replace the banister that smells like sour buttermilk when it gets too hot indoors. Step out of the shower to find ketchup smeared all over two children, five square feet of carpet, three walls, two lightswitches, countless stuffed animals, and a brand new carseat yet to be installed in the car? Here's $2,000 for being awesome enough to not snuff out your own lineage and resisted just starting over. No, my currency is paid in the form of hugs, kisses, and unidentifiable characters inscribed in crayon on walls and floors. I wouldn't turn down a Mustang though if the universe ever decided to start playing fair.
When you've got the business savvy of the Gosselins to parade your difficulty in living with and coping with your own home-grown mafia of children, you can most certainly haul in the chips. Let's start with a house that costs $1.1 million dollars, sprawls to 6,000 square feet, and sits on 24 acres. Seriously, don't tell me that fronting your children is only for the fun of it. Understandably, the Gosselins don't publicize how much they make. Even as these words are typed, I can hear the collective groan of not being able to stick a price tag to the public face of child labor. However, fear not. There have been vague, noncommital, completely sketchy figures for how much the family rakes in. Basically, it breaks down like this:
After doing some complex math, creating powerful algorithims Google will be desperate to purchase from me, digging through public records, scouting the internet for purchasing trends, and bribing retail employees with hugs and hand-drawn pictures from the Gosselin mafia that may or may not be in my possession, I have come to the scientific conclusion that the Gosselin family does in fact make a butt load of money. Check that people. It is a scientific method of measurement.
Butt-load (buht-lohd): adj. 1) an obscene amount of an object 2) an immeasurable or unquantifiable abundance 3) slang for diarrhea
Now, in the same article cited for the financial status of the Gosselin family was plucked this golden nugget of person reflection from the mother of the mafia:
According to an interview in People magazine (May 25, 2009 print edition), Gosselin reports that Jon, who earns less money, has shown signs of resenting her superior income; "I have always made more money than JonÂ¦ He hates to speak, he doesn't write, he doesn't do public appearances - all those things I love."
Excuse me, wait, what? No mention of the eight little people that collectively raked in in the initial income in the form of a television series? Oh, you know, that little bit of media exposure from which all the rest of your income has sprung from? No kudos, props, shout outs, honorable mentions, or begrudged partial references to those who made the Gosselin parents the poor public example we all know and collectively groan over? Talk about ingratitude. Seriously, I hope there's a trust fund dedicated specifically to funding the inevitably large amounts of therapy those children will need. Especially when they grow old enough to watch the episodes themselves and hear the resentment of their parents for being in charge of such a large mafia of their own making.
Let's face it folks, we all knew this was coming. As mentioned before, producing a mafia of children and trying to care for the mafia is going to take a toll on a marriage. Add in constant cameras, flack from the media (gasp! who would have thought that some people would object?), and having more money than you could shake a
child stick at, and you have a pressure cooker filled to the brim with marital dissatisfaction. Considering the apparent lack of dignity in raising children in peace and quiet, what's one more public display of affectionate camera whoring? Let's momentarily set aside the feelings and best interests of the children. Let's pretend that the constant fighting, bickering, whining, and back stabbing affairs don't have any affect on the family whatsoever. While we're at it, we'll conjure up some imaginary ponies to keep the children company while their parents are out soaking in the limelight in what is usually a private, personal affair. Any publicity is good publicity right? More publicity means more money for the kiddos, more books to write, more public speeches to make, and more sitcom episodes featuring the mafia with even less parental supervision and more nannies.
Now that the possible sane reasons to keep their divorce in the limelight has been explored, re-enter the mafia. There are articles about affairs, financial back stabbing, and constant battles over the children. One day, these children will learn to read. Someday, they will have access to the archives of their paren'ts divorce drama. Most parents try to shield their children from the personal, often petty drama that can accompany divorce proceedings. By most, I mean the sane ones that don't personally try to raise the percentage of births in the USA. These parents have made it possible for these poor children to scrapbook their parents' divorce, complete with unflattering photos, a myraid of interviews, and chronological time lines of various girlfriends and hot dates.
Despite the family drama being obviously detrimental to the kids, there's still talk of continuing to do various specials of Jon and Kate Plus Eight.