I'm not writing this entry about reality shows because I necessarily heart them, but I do feel like being the devil's advocate on some things regarding reality shows.
Okay, most people say, "reality shows are anything but reality". Yes, they are right. However, here's two things about that statement: you have to watch them often to really be able to say that and YOU WOULDN'T watch it if it were true reality.
Case in point, "my reality show" yesterday (and it would be a bit more exciting because of a couple of very short moments) would have run a camera crew off and had a TV set begging for a power outage.
Yesterday started with waking up and deciding that I wished I was a good little sleeper. It's actually a ritualistic thought I have when I wake, "man, I wish I slept so deep and so long I felt like I had been elsewhere" and "gosh, let me calucate the less than seven hours I get on daily basis." See, you would have already turned the channel.
The upcoming happenings are even worth fast forwarding to, but here goes. After my B-ah session about sleep, I decide to do 30 on the dreadmill.
Steven leaves for work. I'm sure before he left, he reminded me of what times I needed to take Libby places and not to spend any money. Oh, here's an exciting question I answered, "is my tie tied too short?"
Now, hang on to your seats, it finally picks up pace as Libby wakes up.
Of course, her usual waking is that, as mentioned many times before, of someone directly off the battlefield beginning combat from mid sleep. She enters with a wail, "IIIIIIIIIIIIIWWWWWWWWWWaaaaaaannnnntppppppaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnncccccccccakes." Of course, the only way to stop the wailing is to either do it or respond with something that will spawn another long wail, but with a beginning conjuntion of "BUT" and emphasis on "IIIIIII".
Seeing as how SuperNanny hasn't ever taken me up on an all accomadations stay at my house, I've decided to implement it myself and say no when not asked properly.
She and I went downstairs to eat Life cereal together. See, my reality show would have all kinds of product placement and network affilitation (i.e. SuperNanny).
She, who stomped her way down the stairs rambling a list of all things unfair that have been imposed on her, decides to not notice the slow pace at which I am taking every step. As I went downstairs, I could easily say that every single step I argued with myself that I do love summer and it's the right thing to save daycare money and spend every waking second with my darling-there's-an-obvious-reason-she's-an-only-and-I'd-have-moved-to-China-to-keep-it-that-way-but-thank-God-sbridenstine-sees-it-the-same-way daughter.
Once downstairs, sparring #2 occurred with daughter because she demands to do a marathon of her shows. She argues that she needs to learnnnnn something and that she can't learnnnnn if she can't watch: Backyardigans, Dora, Go Diego Go, Little Einsteins, Ni Hao Kai Lan, Sid the Science Kid.......and at this point I take the other side of my, "it's best for her to be home with me this summer argument" and toss it out the door.
I think of A. laying facedown on the couch and not moving until 5:30 when I can have an adult conversation with the working mate of the household about the summer decision, B. sitting in my car with the door shut so that I can just hear silence, or C. running on the dreadmill and pretending I am going somewhere.
However, I of course, enter negotionations with North Korea (or you can still call her Libby). I tell her that she can make her own shows and soon it will be time for swim lessons.
North Korea doesn't take that for an answer and says if she can't watch "ch-oweys" all day, then maybe I can just read to her all day.
I think if we were on a reality show, at this point, the camera crew would whip her butt. And, I smile at that thought.
So, we read and read and read until I hate books. It's the blunt truth of the matter.
Here's a high point for the show: I contemplated, well threw away, a copy of the Madeline book because I was SICK OF FREAKIN' reading it. I hate Madeline. Those two straight lines. bleh
After reading it five times, I didn't ever want to see it again. So, when North Korea went to get 'nudder book, MWWWWommy. I tossed it in the trash-WAY under a bunch of junk because I am well aware that North Korea will sense it's in there and then it will turn into Peyton from "Hand That Rocks The Cradle" when she's after Solomon at the end of the movie. I know my kid.
I knew I could have some silent therapeutic tossing of a book moment, but certainly it must be well hidden. So, bye bye Madeline and her dumb butt lines. That was mean. At that point, the reality show would probably bring in a shrink and do a complimentary DFACS referral.
However, it is only my IQ in danger when staying at home. It just gets lower and lower.
So, next on a real reality show, you'd see the getting ready portion of the day where I ask myself why I cut my hair so short and why haven't I gotten Libby's hair cut.
Then, we'd be off to swim lessons. The whole way to swim lessons, Libby remarks how Kaylee told her to stay away from water that she'd drown. Convinced that we are journeying to her demise in my Altima, Libby chatters the entire way about it. No matter how much I reassure her that she is LEARNING to swim so she won't ever have problems in the water, she continues.
Once at the Wellness Center pool, she thinks her role as North Korea will be accepted by Miss Sandy the Swim Teacher. What she doesn't know is Miss Sandy is France and she is not going to negotiate. It was like choir singin' satisfaction to see someone else work with North Korea. I took EXXXtra long filling out those swim papers, just to be sure I could watch North Korea concede.
After screaming, "walley" for about 15 minutes of my $19, she finally decides participate in the swim lesson Miss Sandy was progressing without her through.
That moment would have gone two ways on a reality show: 1) it would have been stretched out to the whole show or 2) it would have been about two minutes long.
Next, we go to get Steven, who can play golf on his league now but still can't lift heavy stuff, so he can pick up a box for me from school. Then, we go to Taco Bell lunch on a budget in Murray County.
Steven would only make a small appearance on the reality show because he is a man of few words and is not in the least bit a source of drama.
So, back to the two drama queens. Libby and I then go home where she assumes the role of North Korea on the topic of napping. She refuses to nap and I get sleepy commanding it. This is the point where I'd like an emergency red phone like they are rumored to have in the basement of the White House. I'd like to pick up the red phone and say, "hello, I can't do this another second of this day, help."
The nap negotiation goes on for about two hours. What else do we have to do? We can't spend money and I'll be derned if I am going to read another book.
I facebook a confession that I didn't pay daycare enough the past four years. My day 2 with Libby proves in my soul that it's HARD to do. (By the way, I love when a proper noun can become a verb...facebook).
Here's where the drama reaches about two on a scale of one to ten, ten being Nancy Grace level of drama.
I take Libby to TaeKwonDo. I miss a rejection call. What? You blinked and missed the drama, right? That's why reality tv can't be true reality. It's flippin' boring as all get out. Just writing about it makes me bored.
So, then, we go to my sister's house for supper and to take her the boxes we picked up for her.
Lastly, we go to Cremo because sbridenstine was dying for a chocolate soft serve. That's how I KNOW we are opposites. I do not like ice cream. I would never drive across town for it and certainly not chocolate flavor. Yuck.
Finally, we get home, try to negotiate with North Korea that it's bedtime.
I talk on the phone with a friend for about an hour and it's night time.
Of course, reality tv would have stopped at the pilot and edited out 90% of that day, don't cha think?
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