A Touch of Frost (Or, My New Pretend Girlfriend)

I don't do reality television. I can't. I'm not allowed. I realized long ago that it is impossible for me to watch a reality TV show and NOT get emotionally involved to the point of disturbance.

Case in point: a couple of years back, John and I caught a random episode of "Wife Swap". "Wife Swap" is a series that takes two vastly different wives/mothers from two vastly different families and has them trade places for two weeks, cameras documenting every move and thought. Though the show can get quite heated and dramatic, the particular episode we caught was one of the tamer experiments. But I was nonetheless so emotionally entangled in the unfolding dynamics that I was haunted by these people for some time afterward.

"How do you think Nancy is doing?" I asked John, a few weeks after we had seen the show.

"Who's Nancy?" John replied.

"You know, from 'Wife Swap'. I think about her all the time. I wonder how she's readjusted to life at home."

"What are you talking about?"

And John was right. What the hell was I talking about? I didn't know Nancy, and there was no good reason she should impede my thoughts from one single hour of questionably-entertaining entertainment.

So ever since that epiphany, I've steered cleared of most reality shows, for my own sanity and serenity if for nothing else. Some of the "lighter" reality programs, I admit, I've been drawn into. I watched a talent competition, appropriately titled "America's Got Talent", all last summer, but when the insanely gifted and luminous Butterscotch failed to win, I swore I'd never watch the show again. (And yes, I voted for her -- until I maxed out on how many votes I could cast.)

And I'm embarrassed to confess that I even got sucked into some far seedier reality TV fare while on a business trip to Florida last year. Sitting in a hotel room that made even "The Golden Girl"'s living room look tasteful, I watched marathons of the dating shows "Flavor of Love", "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila", and, God help me, "I Love New York". These shows are the lowest forms human of "entertainment", ranking somewhere below amateur porn yet above "The 700 Club". But still, I was emotionally enthralled by these crapfests. I mean, Flavor Flav is mentally retarded, isn't he? He has to be. And Tila Tequila is a great big moron for eliminating that adorably funny and sweet hot piece of Italian sausage known as Domenico. And New York, a.k.a. Tiffany Pollard! Christ on a cross! She has got to be the most disgusting human being to ever walk the planet. Though it was AWESOME when she was a contestant on "Flavor of Love" and Pumkin spit on her! I LOVE PUMKIN. And New York was born a man, wasn't she?

UGH. You see! It's happening again! Just writing about it gets me all reabsorbed and worked up. No, no, no. Ick, ick, ick. Reality TV and me are a love affair that was never meant to be.

Until Jo Frost.

Now I had caught Frost's show "Supernanny" a few times over the last couple of years. I was always into it, but I consciously kept myself at a remove from the inner emotional landscape of what I was watching for fear of getting too involved. If you don't know "Supernanny", it's a relatively simple premise. Parents with out-of-control children, who are unruly at best and downright terrorizing at worst, contact Frost to come into their homes and lives to instill some wisdom, sense, and order. She also shows up and departs in a fantastic car.

Last night I stumbled upon "Supernanny" again, and I realized how brilliant this show really is. It's far and away light years above any of the other tasteless piles of reality television poop that now stink up the airwaves. And this is all because of Jo Frost. While what she is doing onscreen may be entertainment to us, she is also providing a valuable, and I would even go so far as to say highly effective, service to families in a true state of crisis.

An airy and sugary Mary Poppins knock-off she is not. Frost is direct, firm, bluntly honest, and a stern, unwavering taskmaster. But what makes both her show and her work so wildly successful is not that she's some mean nanny-monster hard-ass. Everything she does, every word, every step, every breath, comes from a place of great love and concern and a sincere desire to help people. You can feel that watching her. She's not going to sugarcoat anything; she has no problem bringing both parents and children to tears in her efforts to make them wake up to the reality in which they are living. She holds parents responsible, as they should be, but instead of raking them over the coals about their failures, she jumps in and teaches them HOW to be parents. It's an amazing thing to watch. It's also amazing to watch her with children. Her personality, her choice of words, and her actions toward kids hardly waver or differ from her interaction with adults. Frost doesn't talk down to these children. She talks to them like they're human beings; she treats them as if they understand every word and every rule she's laying out. And you know what? They do.

There is struggle at first, with both the parents and the kids. There always is. This not only makes for good television, but it's also reality. Frost's unshakable commitment and approach does not yield. If you've taken the step of calling her into your lives, you'd better be ready to shut up, open up, and shape up. She takes no prisoners, and she'll call you out on all your inauthenticity and excuses, no matter how big or small you are. But she also recognizes success and improvement, from the tiniest, seemingly-non significant detail to the biggest breakthrough, and praises these things with genuine thrill and pride. Hers is a love that is palpable, poignant, and always passionate.

By the end of every show, there is always some degree (usually an extreme degree) of success. What's more is that both the parents and children are all completely respectful and appreciative of what Frost has given them. She may have had to open their eyes with some hard tactics, but the results speak for themselves. I guess you could say her families fall in love with her as I have.

In the episode I saw last night, which I'm sure was a rerun given the time of year, was about an affluent Chinese-American couple, both dentists, living in San Francisco with five absolutely adorable though wildly out-of-control children all under the age of ten. The breakthoughs Frost made with this family, notably with the eldest son, were breathtaking. It's not just that she sweeps in and shows parents how to be parents and kids how to be respectful, functioning members of society. It's that she teaches everyone how to be a family. In these dark days, this is a beautiful, powerful, and not easy thing to accomplish. My admiration for Ms. Frost knows no bounds. She is someone who walks the walk and talks the talk. We should all be so lucky.

Jo Frost, who turned 38 just a few days ago, was born and raised in London and has had extensive experience working as a nanny in both the UK and stateside. She has written three books on childcare, and, in addition to the US version of "Supernanny", has also starred in the UK version. By all accounts, she is as endearing and sincere as she appears on her show, and about as far away from our current ideas of "celebrity" as one can get. According to one source I came upon, when she is not filming the show, Frost lives her with widowed father in London. She pretty much keeps out of the limelight, graciously allowing the power of her life's work to speak for itself. She is a class-act, through and through.

And what's also so important and unique about Jo Frost is that she is perhaps the first and only reality television show personality who actually deserves her own show. In a reality TV universe filled with mentally-challenged ex-rock stars, big mean trannies, and fake bisexual chicks, Frost is a breath of fresh air. Curvy and beautiful, witty and honest, consummately professional and a valuable expert in her field, there is no one like Jo Frost.

I'd love to meet her someday, but I don't think it would really be wise. I mean, I'm sure I would just blather on like a fawning psychotic, and she would surely take me to task for that.

I'd probably end up in the Reflection Chair.