There’s only one thing I envy about reality TV stars and that is their ability to look back on the footage of the previous hour, day or week. If my family’s everyday activities were recorded, I could tell you the exact time I first mentioned what time the practice was at, when we needed to meet someone, what was due at school that week, and the list of tasks around the house that needed to be done. I wouldn’t have to repeat myself over and over to remind my family what I’d asked them to do already (nor would I have to argue that they were, in fact, informed in advance). My moment of glory would come when one of them says, "You never told me that," and I would simply utter the magic words, "Let's go to the tape." There would be documented proof of whether or not teeth were brushed, who made that mark on the wall, why the back door was left unlocked, and who ate the last bowl of ice cream.
From this 24/7 account of my life, I could make a monthly montage of the highlights to remind my loved ones of how many times I was right and how they would have been better off if they had only listened to me. I would also have a record of all my brilliant ideas, witty insights, and utterly charming moments that were fleeting because I was interrupted by a whiny kid, a question about a lost piece of clothing, a pot overflowing on the stove, or the urgent need for a ride. I would, of course, give myself the power to edit out unflattering angles, bad hair days, and unfortunate clothing choices.
Many years into the future, I would be able to live every mother’s dream when visiting my grown children by giving them a little payback. I would leave my dirty dishes on top of their dishwasher, use up the last of their milk then put it back in the fridge, and unroll reams of toilet paper leaving just one square for the next user. I would not feel an ounce of remorse when I spill things on their carpet, leave crumbs on their counter, blast my favourite music, walk out of the room with the TV left on, and complain about what they’re making for dinner. When they ask why I was being so inconsiderate and ungrateful, I would bring out the recorded evidence of any random day from their childhood— and rest my case.
On the other hand, I suspect that this TV reality life would wear thin quickly resulting in too much information, a violation of privacy rights, and difficulty moving on from the repeats of a bad episode. My whole “I told you so” scenario may also blow up in my face when, on the rare occasion, the infraction may be mine. I would steadfastly deny that I said anything mean, inaccurate, or unladylike, and that’s when my family would say, “Let's go to the tape.”
