A Television Reality Check.

So I’m writing this post while sitting on my couch being filmed by my local news.

(You can see that I’m not lying and also how bad my typing comes out when typing on a tiny iPad keyboard if you pay real close attention towards the end of this video…)

So yes, this was the second time I’ve had a news interview about blogging, and yes, I still wince watching myself. This is why I type, not talk.

(But I really need to force myself to start vlogging just to get better about the EYE CONTACT thing. And the talking too fast.)

But nevermind my awkwardness. Y’all already knew about that character trait already, right?

I’m here to address the fictional aspect of television.

We all already know that reality shows are the least realityish reality ever concocted. And I felt compelled to admit that I too, when seen on tv, am totally not living my own reality.

MY TELEVISION HOUSE: There are a few toys behind me on the couch. You might catch a glimpse of an old baby gate that hasn’t been pulled out of the corner for two years and that I forgot to fold up my blanket before shoving it under the end table, but for the most part, it was somewhat clutter-free.

MY REAL HOUSE: Multiply the toys strewn about by a factor of 9,864. The ones you did see were the evidence of Noah’s Last Stand, because I’d already cleaned, re-cleaned, and re-re-cleaned his messes. The boy is a strowing genius. Also, the pillows would be thrown all over the room, my blankets would be strewn about the couch (I like being warm and that’s why I live in Alabama), and at least three sippy cups would be peeking out from various locations under the furniture. Also, our train table, at which you saw Noah playing, is usually stacked at least three feet higher with crap.

MY TELEVISION FLOOR: It actually looked nearly clean-ish.

MY REAL FLOOR: Contains crumbs from yesterday’s cookie, a stray half-eaten apple, eighteen invisible Legos waiting to eat your toe skin for breakfast, fifty-seven Hot Wheels, five abandoned craft projects, and at least a week’s worth of un-swept miscellaneous build-up.

MY TELEVISION NOAH: He’s cute. Right? Blue eyes, carrying around a giant fire truck…stinking adorable.

MY REAL NOAH: His nose is stuffed with crusty boogers and his upper lip is sporting a snail trail (see Monday’s post for why), he has a perma-stache of goo from his last meal hanging out on his upper lip,

and no. He would NEVER be wearing actual clothes at this time of the morning.

A pajama shirt would be a miracle.

MY TELEVISION ALI: She’s focused, interested, and most importantly, wearing non-slept-in clothes.

MY REAL ALI: She does school every day in mismatched pajamas. When getting ready that morning, it took her at least five minutes to understand the concept behind why she had to get dressed when we weren’t even leaving our house. The news crew surely wouldn’t mind her Disney Princess Pajama Top and Dancing Ballerina pajama bottoms. Right?? Also, she would normally be wearing her “craft apron” over her pajamas (yes she has a craft apron don’t you?),

as well as three pairs of socks stacked one atop the other. Or just two socks, but they’d definitely be mismatched. Making a statement with footwear is very important to her.

MY TELEVISION SCHOOLROOM: We had our schoolbooks, Noah’s Legos, my coffee cup, and my planner on the dining room table.

MY REAL SCHOOLROOM: Yes, we do actually do almost all of our school at the dining room table (except that which I can get away with while laying on the couch.) HOWEVER, my table has never looked that neat in its life. It would normally contain at least 763 toys that Noah had brought in to play with while wriggling uncontrollably in my lap, food from the fridge that he’d helped himself to, remnants of a glitter glue deal gone bad, five pages of stickers, two coloring books, a dead ladybug or two, and my coffee cup wouldn’t even look that good. YES. I EVEN WIPED MY LIPSTICK MARKS OFF MY COFFEE CUP. Because I can never just have one spot from which I drink – so I end up with a lovely red bunting all the way around the mug.

Also? This cabinet would usually be open, just waiting for Noah to dump it all out again.

Sad, sad cabinet.

MY TELEVISION SELF: Okay yeah I talk awkward on camera. But at least I had makeup on, blow-dried hair, and was wearing actual clothes.

MY REAL SELF: I would absolutely still have pajamas on – most likely on the third day of those particular pajamas, and they would definitely have remnants of Noah’s sticky grip. I actually wouldn’t have lipstick bunting on my coffee cup because I wouldn’t have a molecule of makeup on. Okay yes I would – I would have dark circles under my eyes left over from yesterday’s makeup. My hair would probably still be wet or worse, an oily mess, and definitely not brushed.

OUR TELEVISION INTERACTIONS: The children were calm, happy, not at all frustrated, and downright adorable. Can I say that? Because when I compare them to…

OUR REAL INTERACTIONS: After I drag her out of bed and down to breakfast and to the school table,

Ali’s distracted by something out the window, I’m trying to explain how to do her math problem, Noah is repeating in a constantly rising decibel level, “Open it Mommy, open it Mommy, OPEN IT MOMMY, OPEN IT MOMMY!!”, Ali’s getting frustrated because she doesn’t understand what I’m saying because she’s distracted by something out the window, I’m frustrated because I can’t get her to pay attention to what’s going on or get Noah to please be quiet about the glue stick that he doesn’t need opened anyway, and then he figures out how to open it himself and before I can stop him and rubs glue all over my cheek. And then I put myself in Mommy Time-Out.

aka the bathroom.

So that’s how it really goes down around here.

Just in case you wondered.

P.S. –  I’ll be back on the news in the 4pm hour on Monday (pre-recorded) and in the 9am hour on Wednesday (live) on ABC 33/40 (they have LiveStream for those of you not from around here) to talk about a brand new project I’ve been working on for a couple of months. But no worries – you’ll hear about it first thing Monday morning.