9.18.2006

not a confederacy, a television of dunces

I'm sitting here in another hotel on another business trip watching episodes of Wife Swap and Supernanny. Why does it always seem these shows are on when I'm in a hotel room? I rarely watch these shows at home, yet put me in a Marriott and I'm all about schlocky family reality shows. I rationalize that they are interesting social experiments on parenting styles and the shockingly common fearful reaction to change. I mean, one would expect panic from a child, but an adult? Why Mrs. A, are you in tears that Family B is going to make you do things differently for two weeks? Will the sky fall if they take away your mop or send your maladjusted kids to public school for a minute? Good grief! Quote Betty Freidan: "The only thing you have to lose is your vacuum cleaner." So, yeah, it's totally an extension of that Soc 101 class I took fifteen years ago. Yeah, that's why I'm watching it. Not because the teaser promised that the uptight professional organizer is going to live with a self-professed "family of pirates." Arrrrgh!

So now I'm sitting here observing and judging these people who are under extremely unnatural circumstances and video tape and thinking what I'd do differently and how stupid, or crazy, or shallow, or stupidly shallow, or crazily stupid these people are and then it hits me: I'm sitting here alone in another hotel room on another business trip watching episodes of Wife Swap and Supernanny. I haven't even gotten it together enough to have a dysfunctional family. Who am I to judge? To some people, I probably look pretty sad right now. Christ, to me I look pretty sad right now. "Shall I rent a movie? Nah, I'm probably too tired to watch the whole thing and besides, I have an early day tomorrow. Should probably do some more work before I go to bed so I don't have a pile of work when I get back in the office." Yeah, I'm super glamorous I know.

Which life is better? Which one is for me? It's a professional thirty-something woman's quandary, isn't it? Something I ought to be pondering deeply instead of while halfass watching a deranged "pirate princess" add "a goodly dose of chaos and sass" to the Stepford family. Interestingly enough, I'm siding with the wench based wholly on the fact that she's reintroduced the word "sass" into the vernacular. (Side note: RIP Sassy magazine. Does anyone else remember that one?)

Oh. My. God. Forget everything I just said. This mom on Supernanny has a seven year old son who refuses to wipe his own bum. One hour later the mom says "His behavior has improved so much now that I'm giving him attention and boundaries." Uh, geeā€¦did you not notice that he needed it before, Mrs, Owner of a Daycare? A daycare? You own a daycare? And you didn't know he was looking for attention from you and was maybe, just maybe, jealous of his younger brother, the other daycare kids, and your distracted persona? No? I mean he was screaming "wipe my ass!" from the bathroom. That didn't tip you off? And you thought there was no permanently scarring issue in doing it for him? Oh, it was just easier because otherwise he would sit in there for an hour? Oh OK then. Way to link "female attention" with "bathroom." I'm sure his future girlfriend will be super thankful. OK, the TV is off, but glad you figured that one out with the help of Supernanny, genius.

Now that my brain has been sufficiently mushed, I think I shall take a nice hot bath in a clean, seven-year-old-Freudian-case-study-free-bathroom for as long as I want and finish rereading A Confederacy of Dunces and drinking a glass of wine. In a curious moment of coincidence, at this point in my reading, Ignatius J. Reilly is also dressed as a pirate, organizing chaos in the French Quarter. If you haven't read this book, you totally should. And we'll keep all this Wife Swap Supernanny watching business to ourselves cuz, you know - what happens at the Marriott, stays in the Marriott.