Posted on by crystal · 119 Comments

Staging reality TV

I like Supernanny. Jo is quite loveable, and I pick some good lessons in there. I bumped into it today on E-Africa, and it was a bit … odd. Today’s couple was really young, they must be late 20s or 30s. The guy is ex-military and the girl is a stay-at-home-mum. They have three boys. The eldest looked 8, and the youngest might be 2 – I can’t be sure since I caught the show halfway.

The first thing I noticed was the mum. She was hot!! All cleavage and tanlines, with her hair and make up perfect in every shot. She was always in these spaghetti tops and mini skirts and she rocked the bare shoulders and jeans look. I have NEVER seen a housewife that hot.

The next thing I noticed was their house. It was gorgeous, with a lawn and a swimming pool. I kept thinking yay for the American dream! They’re so young. How can they afford that house on just one income?

I mentioned this to Mr 3CB and he said, ‘It’s probably staged.’

I hadn’t thought about it before, but it’s really interesting how Nanny Jo’s ideas work. Sometimes they seem practical, but sometimes I wonder. I mean, if I tell Princess to be quiet and she doesn’t listen, then some stranger comes and tells her to be quiet and she listens, then … ?

It’s also interesting that the nannies can turn problem kids into angels in just one week, and that the process can be clearly shown in under an hour. I wonder if there are outtakes, or if the kids know that the camera’s there, or even if the parents like being told they suck on national TV. But then again, the whole thing can’t be staged, can it?

On Nanny 911, they sometimes have tacky lines and I wonder how they can say them with a straight face. A lot of their advice is common sense, and I wonder why the kids hear the nannies and not their parents, especially when they’re all saying the same thing. But maybe I’m just jealous.

I worry about my parenting sometimes, especially when I watch these shows. They do so many things that I don’t, and I do so much that they say not to. But my baby is healthy and happy, and she knows that I love her, so I guess I’m doing okay. Her grades are good, her hair is clean, and when I say. ‘Stop,’ she does, even if she’ll sulk and slam some doors in the process. She always comes back and says, ‘Sorry for banging the door mum.’ The temper is in her genes, so it’s not completely her fault.

I do the best I can, and I think my best is fine. Yesterday, I was all in a panic and a good friend said, ‘Be kind to yourself, you’re doing much better than you think.’ I’m grateful for my friends, my gorgeous little girl, and Mr 3CB. I’d be so lost without them. And so shall it be.

Now, back to Black Box …

Posted on by crystal · 108 Comments

Crazy writing moms et al

The Secret operates on wavelengths, and you pretty much attract stuff that’s on your frequency, so you want to be careful about where you’re standing. This week, I’m on a mommy wavelength, so mostly, mum’s the word.

I was browsing No wonder mom and saw two widgets for Bloggy Moms and Blogher. I spent the next half hour signing up for membership, newsletters and a bunch of other stuff. Then I started browsing sites by other moms, felt self-conscious, started getting down on myself, and wondered where the unfollow buttons were.

I veered away from mum sites to read Problogger. And today’s entry was written by … a mum. Simple Mom. She’s a mother of 3, has an awesome hubby, runs 5 blogs, and has a book coming out. I also found Pensieve, a gorgeous southern belle. Yes, they still make those.

With all these supermoms clouding my vision screen, it’s easy to feel like I’m coming up short.

Yesterday I had meetings, so I was running around a lot. It was cold when I left the house, and I’m out of clean t-shirts, so I felt semi-formal in my jeans and white blouse. Even with a hood lying over it, the collar peeped and made me feel school-girly again. At some points in the day, I felt important as I made game plans and signed contracts. At other times, I felt wobbly as I walked into my old workplace and found people dressed in suits and heels sneering at my shaggy purple hair.

The confidence resumed when I walked by a mirror bank window and liked what I saw, but sagged to subzero when I walked into a breast clinic. There was a hot flat girl who looked so sick she could barely stand, but her make-up and hair were flawless, and her man looked ready to cry as he helped her along. Maybe it was her brother. There was also this awesome-looking woman in jeans, boots, and head wrap. There should be a rule against looking good in hospital.

I know you’re not supposed to compare yourself with people, but sometimes it’s hard not to. I don’t know how long I’ll keep up with these mommy-site subscriptions, but I need to focus less on them and more on me. Otherwise I’ll spend all day reading blogs, feeling sad, and not writing at all.

Networks are a good thing. But when you spend all your time ooh-ing and aah-ing instead of doing and duh-ing, it can get a little pointless. It’s better to find a few key resources that are functional and useful, then stick with them. Plus, the trick is to value your own successes, do more reading offline – and surgically remove the envy gene. Let me know when someone figures out how to do that.

[Reading offline defies jealousy, because paper books don’t come with bios, galleries of professional photos, links to beautiful babies, and google-able entries of your days as a prom queen.]

I suppose this mommy frequency could be the Universe’s way of helping me meet women. I’m no good at girly relationships, and to tell you the truth, I find women scary. Maybe with babies to talk about we’ll backstab and catfight much less, especially since these women are waaaaaay over there with the internet between us. But for now, I need to review all these sites I’ve signed up for and see if I really want to stay on them, because there is such a thing as too much mommy-dom.

♫ See you soon ♫ Coldplay ♫