Yes, I Watch Real Housewives. No, I’m Not a Moron.


The Real Housewives is the cure for mommy brain.I once took a meditation workshop from Deepak Chopra. I figured that if anyone could get me to meditate, it was the man famous for meditation.

It didn’t work.

There is a famous phrase called “mommy brain” reserved for the pregnant and new mommies – those sleep-deprived, wondrous bundles of hormones – that account for fogginess, forgetfulness, and generally wacky behavior like pouring water in your palm instead of the prenatal vitamin you needed the water to take (I actually did that) or putting the cereal in the fridge and the milk in the cupboard (also did that). 

But what they may not tell you is that “mommy brain” never really goes away.

It just becomes a constant loop of to-do lists, guilt about that thing you said or did, setting reminder alarms on your phone about Pajama Day at school, knowing where the kid left his favorite stuffed monkey at all times, and Disney Junior ear worms (don’t tell me you don’t know the Hot Dog Dance and what specific move belongs to Daisy Duck). 

The only thing that drowns the noise of my mommy brain is trashy reality television.

I will plop on the couch after putting the kids to bed and, even if I have work to do, I will put on Bravo as white noise. It soothes me. It comforts me. The weirdly melodic cacophony of middle-aged women arguing over mean tweets washes the day away. And it’s not just Bravo (though see my previous article, “Which Bravo Show Is Right For You?” for my love letter to my favorite network).

Dudes demanding five minutes with “The Bachelorette” to convince her that they are here for the right reasons, teams fighting over who has to be the one to eat twenty pounds of caviar on “The Amazing Race,” and total strangers deciding if they want to get married after having three conversations behind a wall on “Love is Blind…” these are the Zen chimes of my mommy brain. 

I hear a lot of snide comments about how these shows are vapid or pointless or contributing to the devolution of our modern society. Fine. You don’t have to watch them. And it’s not like I don’t also watch and read things that stimulate my brain and make me think. That’s not the point of my meditation.

If trashy television is the thing that calms my mommy nerves, then let me have my Housewives. I don’t need to hear your judgment about it. 

Whatever you need to do to shut off the constant buzzing of your mommy brain – you do you. I’ll be drinking a Vanderpump Rose at Sur if you need me right after I do laundry for Pajama Day at school. 


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here