September 2008

Reality TV? No it's just my life ...

Did you ever get the feeling your life was so ridiculously absurd that any second the people with the cameras, clappers and microphone were going to yell 'cut ... that's a rap"

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Let me explain - it's not just 'A Truman Show' paranoid moment, it's more about how the chilly weather has driven me to guilty pleasures of the FOXTEL variety.

Project Runway (my personal favourite as I think the designers are all very talented especially Brisbane's Leigh Buchanan who is hilarious), followed by Flipping Out, and even Janice Dickinson's Modeling Agency have got my attention as perfect zone out material. I know it is absurd but tantrums, tears, crazy staff members, cats on Prozac and cleaning ladies that don't clean all make up these mad insights into somebody else's world that sometimes seems vaguely familiar to mine.

Lately I've been getting the feeling that my own life would be the perfect fodder for a bad reality TV show. It seems the kids, staff, parents, puppy dogs, neighbours and even the chickens seem to be plotting to make every day just a little crazier than the one before.

Shall we imagine the morning scene , it might go something like this:

Finally get out of bed, after ignoring plea's from scruffy white dog to be released from his mandatory sleeping place of childs bedroom floor(childs idea not mine) , drag sleeping child out of bed and get her dressed (still asleep if necessary) so she can be ready to go to school in 90 seconds, walk to the lounge- room and find particularly clucky chicken scratching for a spot to lay egg on shag pile rug in lounge room. Miss Whitey has decided she prefers to be inside than out, and far away from the maddening crowd of the chicken pen is where she shall lay and play ... made for television I say!

Or the perhaps the 'after-dinner' scene? This is where I have a false sense of security in thinking I can finally relax a little ... and then there's SOS phone call from the parents.

Dear Mum and Dad who are quite capable of most things in the world - including raising four headstrong daughters - have managed to lock themselves out and are trapped in the courtyard in sub-zero temperatures. I actually had to help my Dad smash a window in with a golf club so they weren't at a Motel for the night (and where did he learn to do that so expertly)!

What about the evening scene where I think Miss Lilah might have finally dropped off to sleep only several hours after she went to bed, to be woken by shouts of:

"Get back damned fool! Ye shall not prevail on ye ladies honour ... I'll have your head"

Has the TV turned itself onto a bad historical romance? No, it's only the medieval group that gathers next to my house every week for jousting practice until 11pm. These people talk, dress and practice all kinds of kooky medieval arts like sword fighting in full sets of armour and boy do they take it seriously. I mistakenly thought purchasing a house on parklands with only one neighbour would supply me with that much needed privacy and space we all crave. But, of course they would choose their headquarters next to my place and I am twice weekly blessed with a noisy history lesson made up of long haired, pot bellied armour clad oaths and their hefty maidens in full peasant garb.

I suppose I shouldn't begrudge others their passion even if it is for weird Medievel fashion when I am absolutely devoted to YSL silk and Mui Mui delights… their passion gets them potentially clubbed , mine just damages my bank account.

My passion for fashion seems to be influencing the delightful and irrepressible 4 year old Lilah a little more than I feel is strictly suitable. Not only has she taken to flat out refusing to wear the clothes I buy for her - preferring to choose her own ensemble that is always immensely practical like a lightweight princess outfit for the Ekka - she has now also taken to giving herself the latest cutting edge hairstyle.

Yes, my gorgeous little girl with locks I have always admired secreted herself in the bedroom with a pair of sewing shears big enough to snip an ear off and gave herself a somewhat uneven hacked Posh style bob without so much as a peep to give herself away!

As all mothers know the quieter they are the more dangerous they become.

So when I entered her bedroom to discover most of her hair in a pile on the floor she looked at me with pride and said "aren't I beautiful?"… "Don't you love it Mum?"

It's enough to make you wish you could switch channels to another person's life so you didn't have to watch your own!

Seriously though, as crazy as it all can get, we know how boring and kind of spooky it would be if everything was perfect - look at those Stepford Housewives! No- I wouldn't swap it for anything.

With love from Felicity McLennan

MummaBubba is a beauty spa and creche which allows mothers to pamper themselves while their children are looked after.

Felicity McLennan Director Mumma Bubba Beauty Spa & Creche p 07 3861 1019 w www.mummabubba.com.au