Unfit Mother

Fear Based Parenting

I have more to say about this shortly...

and this

 

I (big heart) Al Swearengen

I am obsessed with Deadwood. Again, I’m a Johnny-Come-Lately to the Black Hills, but I finally figured out the appeal. It is Little House on the Prairie for grown-ups! More Laura Ingalls Wilder (as told by Mr. Edwards) than Clint Eastwood in argument of its Western genre cataloging.  I know Nellie Olsen would have ended up at the Gem.

Alison Bechdel once wrote her qualifications for women characters in film (and good television): 1. must have more than one women who 2.
talk to each other about 3. something other than a
man. Deadwood accomplished this and rocks!

Movin' On Up

If you have been following along, you know that I have the sincerest admiration for Tyra Banks. Actually, I am more fascinated by her gestating career expansion and her media mogul acumen. Anyway, I have not watched her show since I exchanged my television vice for blogging (which also coincided with the ending spring season and the fall line-up has since begun). But today when I tuned in for a short lunch break during my multi-tasking frenzy, Tyra was shooting hoops in 6-inch heels with Barack Obama. While I refuse to profess any endorsements for a candidate until they all appear on a game based reality show* ala Big Brother, it was a great casual forum in which to see the Senator taking questions from the audience. Good work Tyra!

* All the Democratic contestants would live in one house and the Republican candidates in another. The television audience would call in each week to keep their favorite in the running until the two houses would merge with fewer contestants. And then for a quirky twist, towards the end the producers would throw in some Libertarians and some Greenies to keep things interesting. Oh yeah, Ralph Nader would host because even I do not want to see his name on the ballot again. America's Next Top Politician. Last President Standing. American Idle. It needs a catchy title - any suggestions?

Confession

Okay, let me just say that I am committed to breastfeeding my children. I nursed my oldest daughter for two years and despite many a naysayer, I plan to do the same if not more for my twins. I’m nineteen months into my damned-if-I-don’t breastfeeding plan and a lot of people ask me how I do it. So here’s my big secret: I watch a lot of daytime television.   

There isn’t time for much else when you have two babies knawing on your nipples every couple of hours. While nursing my singleton, I invented several techniques and strategies. I could stir a pot of lentil soup, throw clothes in the wash and talk on the phone all while nourishing my first infant girl, Ivy. But when nursing twins, I am pretty much stuck in this big, brown, butt-beaten leather chair circa 1965 that my husband inherited from his father. It’s the only setting in the house where I can effectively wrangle the dynamic duo into nursing mode and either stare into space until they’re done or watch TV. (If you’ve never suffered through a dark and damp Portland winter, you’ll stop judging me now.)

I’m pretty set on my morning TV line-up cruising through the PBS kindercrap into the late morning small claims judgment fare. On the days we have no travel plans before I meet Ivy’s school bus, I settle in for the Tyra Banks show. I sincerely love Tyra in the high school BFF way.

Since I do not subscribe to cable or satellite television my viewing diet is limited to daytime talk shows and syndicated reruns from the 90’s when I was too pretentious to admit to sacrificing brainwaves for airwaves. So Tyra’s beaming, media savvy face is a soothing beacon in the middle of my butt-to-chair and baby-to-boob routine.

All prefaces aside, Tyra rocks! The woman has wedged herself into a demographic crack between the viewership of Lady O and the abysmal bottom of esteem-less youth culture feeding on myspace. I grew up with Oprah and will always have a place in my heart for her, but as her audience matures and she caters to their novel demands; young American women are left feeling alienated. And like Oprah, Tyra has a way of bridging racial and economic gaps to create a utopian following.

Tyra is also gutsy and willing to be vulnerable at the expense of critics all to protect the fragile confidence of her loyal viewers. Tyra Banks had her breasts examined on national television to prove she has never undergone breast augmentation surgery. All the while, never judging women who may choose that experience for themselves. She has also appeared without a trace of make-up and in one emotional episode she dons the same bathing suit that paparazzi published her wearing in an unflattering pose. “Kiss my fat ass!” Tyra tells the tabloids in her televised piss-off response. And the woman has her own talk show so she has the last word.

Tyra Banks does not attract a following because she is beautiful and bolstering young girls’ self-esteem; rather she deserves her loyalists because she is true to herself and willing to not only acknowledge her physical flaws but also flaunt them. If a woman like Tyra Banks can address body issues and admit she has her own self-doubts, then there is hope for everyone.

So this beautiful model cum media mogul is now proving she is worthy of award nominations and here to stay. Vowing integrity, Tyra will not stoop to salacious material the likes of Maury Povich or *gasp* Jerry Springer.  Regardless of her beauty, the woman is paying her dues and willing to learn as she grows. Tyra Banks is a bona fide positive role model for young women everywhere and one I hope my girls will idolize in lieu of the scandalous creatures ground through the pop mill of girldom. Maybe I’m just rationalizing my fanatic ANTM habit, but if Naomi Wolf can write an endorsement for Tyra then I don’t feel guilty.