Cheer Up Mom – Here Are 5 Ways Television Can Make You Instantly Feel Better About Yourself!

Cheer up because:

You have never been featured on TLC’s I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant. Pat yourself on the back or the abdomen because your frontal lobe functions at a high enough capacity to recognize the signs of pregnancy.   I can, kind of, get not knowing through your first trimester, but being pregnant 280 days and not having a clue – I’m a little suspect of a woman’s mental capacities and/or her Herculean ability to deny to herself basic biology.  The final crushing blow to your intellect would be not only not knowing you were pregnant and then giving birth (usually in a toilet – The woman who gave birth in campground toilet is my all time favorite.  Imagine the bacteria breeding ground that is a camp commode), but allowing your heinous lack of brain matter to be shared with a national TV audience.  I hope each child born to these l.Q and common sense deprived mothers receives many follow-up visits from Child Protective Services. Because I think one of the prerequisites for motherhood should be the ability to recognize when you are housing a human in your womb.

You are not a Real Housewife.  First of all, what self-respecting woman in the 21st century would allow anyone to call her a housewife.  If someone called me a housewife I’d wonder if he or she had been in a coma since about 1962 and just woke up.  These women are in a word – icky.  They’re the Barbie Dolls no one wants to play with. Hmm, maybe Hasbro could market them as the “Barbie’s Slutty Frienemies Collection” featuring Bitter/Bi-Polar Barbie, Back-stabbing Barbie, Bo-tox Barbie, Breast Enlargement Barbie and Cuckold Ken, the Real Housewife’s clueless husband. If the company got to work on them right now they would be ready for Christmas. I’m thinking great stocking stuffers or Secret Santa presents!

The “housewives” are caricatures of every bad quality womankind has every displayed.  Their grooming fetishes alone give one pause.  How can they spend that much time and money on hair, nails and plastic surgery and really still look so disappointing. They have also broken two of the commandments of motherhood – Thou shalt not do anything to cause my child long-term embarrassment or ridicule on YouTube and Thou shalt not forsake my children by trying to make money off of them in a reality TV show. Which is wonderful segue to  –

You are not Kate Gosselin. I, too, once upon a time liked Kate Gosselin.  That was back in her haggard stage where she was running her own day care center. I cheer for any mom surviving eight kids at home all day.  It is a daunting task for a mere mortal.  Sure, she was a control freak with her only real hobby emasculating her husband.  I watched the show just like you did trying to pick which of the eight kids would be seeking therapy first and suing their parents for pain and suffering about 15 years down the road. (My money is on Maddie.) The wheels came off that extended cab mini-van when they faux renewed their vows in Hawaii, moved into the big house and Kate gave up her cleaning obsession for a tanning addiction.  My career advice for Kate – go back to being a nurse, do a couple of high-profile medical mission trips like accompanying Angelina Jolie, Madonna or Oprah to Africa.  Then two years later come out with a new book entitled The Real Kate – One Single Mother’s Quest to Love the World’s Children.  Bingo – career and visits to the tanning salon back on track.

You have never been featured on an episode of Clean House. Sure, who hasn’t, at times had a house that looks like a Toys R Us store caught the roto virus and threw up its entire inventory in your living room.  That said most of us do not have a rodent petting zoo residing in our  kitchen.  The families on Clean House make all of us look good.  Not only are these families unmitigated lazy slobs, they also have no shame.   It’s one thing to live like a wild boar with a serious meth habit, but to showcase your filth to the world – not so good.  What must these people’s co-workers and neighbor’s think or even worse their kid’s teachers?  I wonder if anyone has lost their job after their boss saw their lack of domestic habitat hygiene? Didn’t they learn the Barney Song – “Clean up, clean up everybody, everywhere. Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share.”  Say what you want about the purple dinosaur, but that song works.

You have never had your adolescent star in Pregnant at 16, My Super Sweet 16, Girls Gone Wild or anything on the E Channel including The Girls Next Door (Yes, Kendra was just 18 when she started shacking up with Hef) & True Hollywood Story. All the teens on these shows are a monument to moronic parenting.  Yes, teens get pregnant, but whose bright idea was it to allow your teens turmoil and stupidity to play out in the media.  This will not look good on a job resume.  Ditto to the uber indulgent, crazy pants parents who throw their psycho sixteen year olds obscenely lavish, over the top birthday parties.  These kids all need a visit from my mother who could smack some sense into them (and I do mean smack, as in her hand repeatedly connecting with their faces).  A basic tenant of motherhood is teaching your daughter to keep her clothes on and how to handle their liquor. (by handling I mean strictly enforcing a no alcohol edict.) It’s called fear based parenting and I highly endorse it.  So, congrats to Moms everywhere whose daughters’ breasts have not shown up in a Girls Gone Wild DVD or on the E Channel.  You’ve done good.

Didn’t that cheer up right up?  Who says TV’s not good for you? It can be excellent for your self-esteem.  Now, go watch some more. You’ll thank me later.

Coming up on Tuesday don’t miss – I Went Postal During Parent Patrol.  Let’s call it a must read.  Also friend me on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs.