Goodbye, Oprah

Well, I'm officially swearing off Oprah. Last night I deleted my season pass on Tivo. 

She's been fairly cringe-worthy for the past year or three, what with all the unnecessary God talk and her ability to make anything and everything about her (Guest: "And then I watched my whole life crumble before me..." Oprah: "That reminds me of when I..."), but I still enjoyed the occasional look at hoarders or inspiring story about overcoming great odds, etc. But this latest deal with Jenny McCarthy pushed me over the edge. 

I get that Oprah and Jenny are BFFs now. It's clear that Oprah has no personal connection with autism (amazing, given the number of people she must know), or else she wouldn't be able to stomach the insanity either. But giving this woman her own show is really horrifying. 

As if her Oprah show appearances weren't damaging enough, now she'll be able to infiltrate people's lives on a daily basis, spouting her delusions and positioning herself as someone whom people should aspire to emulate. Imagine legions of women trotting their special needs children around like purse dogs, telling anyone who will listen that they've "cured" them using Google.   

Frightening, wrong, and completely irresponsible. I'm done. 

My Thoughts on Jenny McCarthy

I didn't watch Jenny McCarthy on Oprah yesterday - I couldn't do it again after her last appearance made me want to vomit - but I've already started hearing the backlash. 

She refers to her son's autism in the past tense, because he's been "cured" - by her, of course.

Supermom extraordinaire. 

I have a lot of problems with Jenny McCarthy. The fact that she's a talentless starf*^ker doesn't even top the list. 

I would have been happy to see her shed her blonde bimbo image and reveal herself to be an intelligent woman fighting for her son. Instead, what I see is someone who doesn't want to have a special needs child. It doesn't fit into the glamorous Hollywood persona she's been working so hard to build. 

Ah, but lucky for her, autism is a hot topic these days -- an opportunity to resurrect her never-really-famous-for-anything career. So why not take that smudge on her glossy little life and turn it into an asset? Now she can admit that her son HAD autism, while also taking credit for being such a committed mother that she was able to CURE him! Unlike the rest of us slack-ass parents just sitting around waiting for a medical explanation for this neurological disorder.

I feel sorry for her son because his mother will never accept him for who he is. She will continue to deny that his brain works differently than her own and she will probably spend the rest of her life trying to squeeze him into her narrow definition of "normal."  

Do I think she loves him? Absolutely. I also think she loves the idea of having a "normal" child. She loves it so much that she is trying to make it true by going on national television to proclaim his normalcy. This should come as no surprise from a woman who has clearly devoted her life to keeping up appearances.

As for her assertion that the rest of us simply aren't well informed enough or haven't worked hard enough to help our children: Fuck you, Jenny McCarthy. 

Tell that to the parents who have given up everything -- their homes, their jobs, their health, their marriages -- to help their children, and yet these children are still so mysteriously locked inside themselves, that they cannot speak. Parents who don't know whether their children will ever be able to say "I love you." Parents who wonder what their children will do when they are no longer around to care for them. 

And don't think Oprah is getting off the hook here. I sent a letter last time and I'll do it again. Oprah is being irresponsible by repeatedly having Jenny McCarthy sit on her stage, spouting her lies, without ever offering a counterpoint. Where is the equally outspoken expert standing up for those of us who believe in science? Who believe that the money that will be spent on Jenny's new book would be much better spent on autism research? On helping the families who can't afford their children's therapies? 

Where is the follow-up show that profiles the mothers who are clinically depressed as a result of feeling like they have failed their autistic children? Who feel like they must just not be good enough parents because they weren't able to cure their kids the way Jenny did? Where's the show about the parents who have killed their autistic children out of a sense of hopelessness and fear? I guess that wouldn't make for such a fun, feel-good episode...

With the incidence of autism as high as it is, I have to believe there is another celebrity out there who is living with the complexities of autism. One who understands the disorder and understands that, so far, there is no cure. Who understands that blaming the parents makes everything worse. Who will speak out in favor of research and early intervention without exploiting their child. Who can speak intelligently about how to have hope without living in denial. How to see every baby step as progress. And how to love your child for who he is. 

Whoever you are, I hope you've got Oprah's number.

A Therapeutic Moment

I have been given an assignment. Every time I start to feel anxious, I'm supposed to count red cars. If I am not in view of a street (like inside my house), I'm supposed to open up a magazine and see if there are any red cars in there. 

It's called thought stopping. Interesting? I think so.  

It reminds me of the episode of Oprah I saw where the expert was explaining that FEAR stands for "Fearing Events that Aren't Real." Then she asked a question that stuck with me, "How much of your life have you spent fearing things that haven't happened?"

If, like me, your answer is "too much," then perhaps you'd like to count cars with me. Sure, it's hokey, but who knows? It could work.

Sleepy

I am so very tired. That icky tired where you snap at the kids even though they really aren't being any more whiney than usual, it just seems to be a lot more grating today. 

I think I might have gotten 5 hours of sleep last night. Usually, I try to get at least 7 if not the heavenly 8. The first 4 were easy - I went to bed feeling like crap thanks to this mysterious stomach ailment that plagues me at random intervals...it's probably the ulcer that I am positive the teenager has been burning into my gut over the last 3 years - but then my husband came home from his show at 2:30 a.m. and made just enough noise to wake me up before collapsing into a deep sleep right next to me. Thanks, sweetie.

The next 4 hours were spent obsessing in that half-asleep way where you think you've thought of something, only to not be able to recall what it was you were thinking about. Again, the teenager factors in heavily here. Will he turn himself around before the end of the year? What will we do with him this summer? Will he ever drive again* or will I be stuck shuttling him around like a little kid for the next two years? Did we make a mistake? Are we being overprotective? Are we being irresponsible?

I'm sure I thought of other things, too. My little boys, my job, the guy who was on Oprah yesterday talking about finding job satisfaction...

Then the sun came up and four little feet came pattering down the hall. Though I tried to sleep through "Word Girl" (Have you seen this show? I kind of love it.), I knew I'd have to get up. And here we are. And I feel a little better now even though I haven't had any Starbucks. 

Happy Saturday.

*I'll skimp on the details here, but the gist is that we yanked the keys for chemical-related indiscretions.  

Out to Sea

We continue to ride the wave of teen angst and irrationality. Well, I'd like to think we're riding it...coasting along on top, ready for the next big swell...but it's more like we're dog paddling, hoping to get to shore before we drown. 

Sometimes the water is calm. Today, it all seems just a little more manageable. Like it really won't go on forever...I see that glimmer of hope that so often gets obscured by the chaos. 

I watched Oprah last night (on Tivo) and she was talking about wastefulness. She profiled a family with three teenagers who all have plasma TVs and computers in their bedrooms, cell phones, iPods, closets full of unworn clothes - you know, pretty much everything. They didn't say, but it did not appear that any of the kids had jobs. The point of the show was to see if they could go without all of these things for a week, but what struck me was how much easier it probably is just to give your kids everything and just not think about it.

Sometimes I wonder if all the work we put into trying to teach integrity and responsibility is even worth it. So far he isn't demonstrating much of either. Yes, of course I know it's the right thing to do...I think what I'm wondering is, Why does the right thing always seem to be the hardest thing? 

There are days when I just want to surrender, to give in, to stop worrying about instilling values and just let him do whatever the hell he wants. I don't want to be the bad guy. I don't want to say no anymore. I just want to live my life and say to hell with parenting. I think this might make us all very happy for a moment...unfortunately, appeasing him at age 16 does not translate to helping him lead a happy life for the next 80 years. And I know that. And I can't stop knowing it. And so I can't stop caring what he does and who he becomes. 

So we keep on paddling.