Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

Why You Should Stop Watching Reality TV:

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For the very same reason, when you come upon a car accident, you choose to look away. Sure, there is that ghoulish urge but an adult doesn’t press her face against the window, mouth breathing and staring.

It’s as simple as that.

A couple years ago I asked my sister, “What’s up with the KarDUHshians? Who are they?” I knew them from tabloids at the checkout and the “news”feed on Comcast, but I couldn’t figure out what they had to do with Bruce Jenner and why they were on television.

“You mean the KarDASHians?” Torey asked.

“Oh, is that how you pronounce it?”

“Yeah.” And then she brought me up to speed.

I don’t understand how people (who aren’t in a coma, being held at gunpoint, or bed bound and without a remote, ) can watch these programs. The only way I can watch a show about vacuous people is if it’s a comedy and there’s a script handled by brilliant writers.

If my nutritional palate was as finicky as my intellectual one, I would never have had a problem with my weight.

And yet, I’m beginning to reconsider. I read an article recently on the salaries of various “reality” television “stars” and the figures are compelling. The Jersey Shore cast started at around $10,000/episode and now are up to six figures per. Yesterday I figured out who Honey Boo Boo is reading articles about the Democratic National Convention and there was one about her ratings being better than Bill Clinton’s.

I’ll tell you, I was concerned when I read the scandalous amount TLC is paying her family. The Thompsons are making $40,000 the entire SEASON plus some small location fee for filming in their home. TLC should be ashamed…in so many ways.

Next week my brother arrives to begin filming a short documentary about my son Christopher. The first week is interviews and the second is the B roll. He’ll be following Christopher around getting candid moments and beautiful/interesting images to give a break from talking heads.

I’m pretty much considering it my audition reel for reality tv. Hey, life is expensive: the bigs kids will be going to college soon; my mom lives with us now; those dogs love the vet and are constantly finding ways to supplement their annual checkups; do you even know how much it costs to dress a man who is 6’6″ and weighs less than 500 lbs!

So anyway, I’m in.

If you know a reality television scout or producer please send him or her right my way. I don’t have a resume, but let them know my show would be content RICH: lots of coffee drinking; a goodly amount of staring vacuoulsy into the air following by frenzied typing; HOURS of reading; a mere tinch of cleaning and cooking; A LOT of driving around when I can share my deep thoughts on EVERYTHING! And you all know the kids! Plus the dogs! We’re golden. And Paul’s a total looker.

I guess the real title of this post should be: “Why You Should Stop Watching Reality TV until I get MY Show!”

Can’t wait!

XOXO

If you support my quest, please share this post!!!!!!!!

I know the exclamation points above were gratuitous but I’m a “reality”” star” (in the making) and I am NOT afraid to go OTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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The kids do not have school for the third day in a row. Eden has been home sick since Monday and the living room has been piled in the dining room for three weeks.

We replaced our ancient berber carpet with bamboo and knocked out the faux beams on the ceiling, hoping to simply mud and resurface it. Alas, the drywall was warped so we had to tear it all down. While we were at it we decided to replace the dingy inset lights. There was a miscommunication with the electrician so he wasn’t able to come until Monday and then a little confusion about whether we needed to take the next layer of ceiling panels as well as an attic full of insulation (we didn’t) so he wasn’t able to actually do the work until yesterday. Tim, the drywaller, is here taping the panels. He should be done some time next week.

We generally get our Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. The kids are missing it and wondering when we’re going to get one to which I reply, “I don’t know.” My sister-in-law offered the use of a miniature one but we have no place to put it. In the dining room we have its normal occupants: our table and five chairs, a low and a long bookcase filled with books. We removed the small secretary where we store our bills to make room for five upholstered chairs, a couch, a dresser, the TV, dvd player, two decorative boxes that store videos and dvds, a side table, two lamps, a compressor and a bucket of tools, 8 baskets that are normally in the living room closet and are my standing pile/file. We couldn’t fit the second couch and so it’s jammed against the wall in the front entry.

My bedroom (if you discount the closet which is stuffed with bags full of presents) and the kitchen are the only rooms I have a handle on, though the kitchen now acts as temporary storage for the living room light fixtures, the calendars – including the large wooden advent one- and any miscellaneous tools and paint brushes.

My task this weekend is to divest our home of one of the couches and three of the chairs and the garage of a large entertainment center that doesn’t work for the playroom/attic/residence of doom…when I’m not in class with Eden whose new favorite thing is playing school, having long talks with Lydia or studying with Christopher whose least favorite thing is doing school, but we insist.

Party on.

http://alisonhodgson.com/2009/12/259/

PSA

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Some Sundays, during the beginning of the service, our church has a time to greet those around you. This Sunday Christopher had his head in a book and didn’t get up. I hadn’t noticed but the next time we made eye contact he whispered,

“I wasn’t shaking hands because some people don’t wash their hands after going to the bathroom.”

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Yesterday was hard.

I don’t have time to tell you about it, but suffice it to say that to be a parent is an exercise in surrender and trust and then at the same time a call to hold on tenaciously. Navigating which situation calls for what is where things get tricky. Of course trust is always needed, even when I think I’ve got it all under control.

It is painful to see your children hurt and to know that all you can do is listen and pray and offer your faith on their behalf, which is so very much but – in the short term any way – doesn’t feel like enough.

I was all for uniqueness, until I became a mother. Now I think it’s overrated. The other day I told Paul that it feels like we’re in a three ring circus – all three rings – all of the time.

Today I’m off to camp with Lydia. The middle school does a retreat for the seventh graders to help them get to know each other. I’m riding there with another mother. Initially we thought that there wasn’t room on the busses for the chaperones, but she called me yesterday to tell me that there was room and, in fact, the chaperones were urged to ride the bus. She wanted to know what I thought.

“Once we’re there we’re going to give our all.” I said.

She murmured agreement.

“But there’s no point in us arriving at camp with migraines. If you still want to drive, I would love to ride with you.”

She exhaled audibly. “I would love to drive.”

I need to quiz Christopher on some grammar and finish packing my bag.

Please pray for him to make a friend.

I hope everyone is happy and well.

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Three packed lunch bags are waiting in the fridge. (1 Barbie, 1 Vera Bradley, 1 orange and nondescript.)

Three alarms are set for 6:15. (Eden and I are relying on the others.)

Four piles of carefully selected outfits sit on bedroom floors. (Paul is winging it.)

“Our last day of freedom! ” Christopher announced to Eden upon waking this morning.

Tomorrow is the first day of school for all three children and it will be the first time in 14 years that I have, at least during school hours, an empty nest.

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