Confession

Confession: I am addicted to the show “19 Kids & Counting.” For those who haven’t had the privilege (fortitude?) to see this show let me quickly explain the premise. The Duggars – Jim Bob (I swear I didn’t make that up) and Michelle have 19 kids and counting. Basically they lost a baby when they were younger and blame it on birth control. And so…rather than practice any form of moderation they basically reproduce like bunnies. The entertainment value? First, all of the kids’ names begin with a J. (Makes monogramming anything in the family impossible). Second, they are extreme conservative Christians – I’m talking UBER conservative. Girls wear only skirts, boys all have the same republican hair cut that dad has, all are homeschooled, no cable, limited & moderated internet – no outside ideas of any sort. Oh I could add and add to the list of entertaining things on this show, but those two are probably the top contributors. Well that and…
Michelle Duggar. Really, if you haven’t watched the show you really ought to in order to fully grasp what I am attempting to describe. Michelle is happy. Always happy. Always! Annoyingly so at times. 19 kids could crap on the floor and she’d cheerily say with a big smile, “well, looks like I have some work to do.” Everything is said in a sing-songy, over the top, joyful voice. Think some child entertainment (a female Barney with a softer tone?) but amplified. While I watch the show I usually spend the entire time thinking, why are you so happy? Is it Jesus? No, I have Jesus and I’m not filled with that much happiness all the time. The ridiculous number of kids? That didn’t work for John & Kate. The simplicity? Perhaps because she is so sheltered and her entire life is literally spent caring after children. Maybe all those years of hormones surging through her has created a permanent euphoric state. Whatever it is TLC should find some way to concentrate it, bottle it, and sell it to the masses.
Until that day, I’ll continue to watch. Mesmerized by the Duggars and their simple joy and wonderment. Not really wanting to be part of their world, but rather watching them like one would watch a circus act or some odd creature at the zoo that hadn’t been seen before. Meanwhile, they are probably praying for people like me – a moderate liberal, a woman that dares to wear pants, use birth control, and dares to have a career and a life outside of the home, a person that reads books other than the Bible, and listens to and even tolerates other beliefs (insert proper gasp here). One day, we’ll meet in heaven. I’ll thank them for their entertainment value and their ability to distract me from the rest of the world. They’ll let me know they prayed for people like me, and will add that they know it was their prayers that let me in by the skin of my teeth.