Late at night, when my husband’s breathing patterns signal a deep enough sleep that I can extract the remote control from his gender-entitled grasp, I tune in to recorded episodes of the Oprah show.
That’s right—I’m not afraid to admit that I am neither too busy nor too evolved to hang on Oprah’s words of wisdom.
I say this knowing full well that, for some of you, the rolling of your eyes is now interfering with your ability to read my column, which does little for a writer dreaming of an Oprah-like following of her own.
From what I gather, those of you who mock are either so far evolved that her Ah-ha moments feel more like No-Duh declarations of the obvious, or you’re so far off the grid of self-improvement that your Must-See-TV hours are better spent at Cartoon Network. To you I say “Namaste.” And if that greeting is met with a vacant stare, I can always make small talk about Shaggy and The Scoob.
While I would personally prefer to watch the Oprah show live, it happens to air when I am wading through the most perilous part of my job description. You see, having a mom tune in to the Oprah show at 4:00 is sort of like asking an accountant to take an early-April trip to Tuscan; inviting a doctor to book a getaway during flu season; or encouraging a firefighter to take a lunch break as soon as a siren sounds.
In a nutshell, the chaos that ensues when a mom goes AWOL after school is more daunting than an IRS audit, more head-splitting than a nose full of impacted green mucous, and more heated than a four-alarm blaze.
It all boils down to the fact that the kids are just home from six hours of school, where they have tried to manage six different sets of teacher expectations while simultaneously deflecting jabs at their self-esteem from their classmates. They are tired, hungry and in need of some TLC that must be administered in a timely and delicate manner so that they will not suffer emotional distress when rushed through dinner and homework before being pushed back out the door for an evening dance class or soccer practice.
When this all runs smoothly, ours is a family portrait best painted by Norman Rockwell. When it does not? The job would be better grasped by Norman Bates.
Though I won’t be able to tune in to their words of wisdom until the kids are asleep, I can almost hear running commentary from Oprah & friends as I dash around the house trying to juggle work deadlines, plan for volunteer commitments, cook, clean and calm people down, while always seeming to rile them up more.
I swear there’s an echo from some sort of hidden Mommy Cam as the experts gather behind a one-way mirror to observe and comment upon the damage being done to mother and children alike:
From relationship expert, Dr. Phil: “So how’s that working for ya, lady?”
Health guru, Dr. Oz: “Pfft. While optimal blood pressure is 115 over 75, the average American's blood pressure is 130 over 85. And what happens to the average American? She dies of a heart attack. Prime the paddles for this one.”
Finance expert, Suze Orman: “Is family counseling a solid investment? I’d say she can’t afford not to seek it.”
Clutter consultant, Peter Walsh: “When she watched the tape last night, why did she snort with disgust when I said moms ought to make cleaning up fun for kids?”
Designer, Nate Berkus: “May I suggest that woman paint her whole house a soothing shade of sea-foam blue?”
Beloved poet, Dr. Maya Angelou: “I’ve said it a thousand times: ‘I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.’ But why did this woman interrupt me with two hallelujahs and then end with an ‘Uh, Oh’?
Personal trainer, Bob Greene: “How does one even train for all of this?”
BFF, Gayle King: “I’m so glad I’m Oprah’s best friend and not hers. If we were one soul in two bodies, she’d be killing us both right now.”
I suppose my one remaining hope is that Oprah will bring back the Dog Whisperer for a second act as the Kid Whisperer. If the man can teach us to soothe our four-legged beasts, there’s got to be a way to manage the two-legged ones so we have a chance to watch our daytime TV when we need the wisdom most… when the little sanity suckers get home from school.
###
Shana McLean Moore is an author, motivational speaker and community organizer who resides in Almaden Valey
