Toddlers & Tiaras & Too Much Reality TV

So, now it is time for the next confession—I think reality television should be eliminated. I have always had a love-hate relationship with television. I enjoyed it at times but resented being separated from my books to spend time with the family (read “sit with family watching more television”). I could take TV or leave it. When I had children, I discovered the joys of public television and the sounds of “How to get to Sesame Street” would entertain my children while I tried to catch a quick nap to balance my maternal sleep deprivation.

As the little people got older, television became a nuisance again, with adult commercials in the middle of a child’s program, racy innuendo in cartoons, and far too many concepts I wasn’t ready to explain to my children yet. So we limited television, restricted viewing options, and finally eliminated cable a while back. 

However, the computer provides more than enough viewing pleasure for my household. And now my not-so-little little people are addicted to a reality show featuring toddlers in beauty pageants. Mind you, they watch it to mock it, but to me, it’s trashy television. How can it be right to offer people small sums of money to make a fool of themselves on national television and warp their children at the same time? And people want to watch it? It’s like watching a train wreck unfold. How can you sit by and do nothing but enjoy the view?

I was horrified when I walked in and caught a few minutes of the show. Two-year-olds were being paraded around for the day, hoping to win a cash prize. The mothers interviewed shared how much their children loved the pageants, dressing up, sitting still for the makeup and big hair wigs, even the costumes. Amazingly, no one thought it odd to perch big-hair wigs on the heads of these toddlers to simulate the look of a sexy adult … since they weren’t old enough to have hair long enough to make their own big-hair. Maybe the costumes were fun, like typical dress-up for normal toddlers, but streetwalker attire isn’t my idea of suitable dress-up options for toddlers. I have a hard time with my teenage daughters and their Halloween costumes and that’s once a year, twice if we go to . 

I wondered if these moms knew or cared about the message they were providing their daughters—valued by how you look, presenting an image and playing to the audience/judges, needing elaborate hair and makeup rituals and revealing clothing to be attractive—all this at age 2.

I cringed to hear the evil mommy voice lecturing the toddlers about blowing the runway walk: “Mommy is very disappointed in you paying attention to the presents onstage and not blowing the judges the kiss." I always thought you saved that for serious things. Tthese are 2-year-olds. Something would be wrong if they weren’t excited and interested in presents. 

Having just left the class where I teach twos, I worried if these moms allowed their daughters to be normal toddlers outside of the pageant days. Their expectations for their children were crazy warped, with no recognition of reasonable expectations for twos. One mother lamented the fact that there was one more segment to go and her child was ready for a nap. Reality check—toddlers typically nap. Another had obviously wiggled too much when her hair was being done and her mother was furious, with her daughter and the stylist. Never met a toddler who could sit still for more than five minutes unless they were conked out. Still, another child finished her walk and then excitedly ran offstage, apparently blowing her chances of playing, according to her mom. Another reality check—toddlers get excited. All this in the five minutes before I could finish what I was doing and leave the room.

My husband and I discussed the male equivalent—sporting dads who insist their sons play sports for most of their school years, even when they despise sports. It creates the same insecurities and inadequacies as for the girls, leavened only by a dollop of teamwork and sportsmanship. The show felt like these parents were either trying to relive their lives through their children, prove something to the world or make a buck. I thought the point was to parent our children to achieve their dreams, not to become a mini-me, succeed in areas where we failed in childhood, or contribute to the family finances. If not, I’m a failure as a mom and happy to be so. So, how about you?

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Confessions of the Evil Mother Lady…it’s all about the real woman hidden behind the “mom” title.  I hope to shine a light on the invisible lives mothers lead, starting with me, the Evil Mother Lady.  Let’s continue our conversation about how our tenure as “mom” hides much of the woman behind the title.  Please join in – your stories are relevant, amazing, and interesting and should be heard.