Bring. It. On.

It was only a matter of time before it happened. Friends and family oohed and aahed about Grace's red hair, her dimple, the way she turns into straight sugar when she wants to. "That face could sell anything," my dad once said of baby Grace, who was cutely gurgling in his arms.

So when a casting agent propositioned us at the phenomenal Aquarium of the Pacific, I was appropriately flattered but not surprised. "Your daughter is just SO cute!" she said while Grace was rejecting my attempts to move away from the touch pool. "Her sunglasses, that attitude...you know, I work for a casting company in LA, and she would be great for a show I am working on. In fact, you all would."

Insert embarrassed flattered face here. Here it was! This is how it begins, I thought. Grace was being discovered! I tried to act calm as I imagined telling this story in years to come when interviewed about how Grace got her start. "Well, it all began at the touch pool," I would say smugly to my imagined future reporter.

But then things somehow went horribly, irrevocably wrong. She continued: "I cast for this show on TV...maybe you have seen it..." (Readers, prepare yourselves for a shock) "...it's called 'Supernanny' and your family would be just perfect."

WHAT?! SUPERNANNY? You mean the show where they hold up your dysfunctional family for the whole nation to see? The reality show whose sole purpose is to make viewers at home realize that at least their family isn't THAT bad?! Is she freaking kidding me?

Here I thought we were headed toward fame and fortune with Grace's beauty and dramatic flair and really the woman is saying I suck as a mother, have no boundaries, and need live-in, round the clock help to save my dysfunctional family. I really didn't know how to respond. I think my expression changed from "embarrassed but flattered" to "looking around to make sure no one overheard the insult." I instantly wondered how long she had been observing us. Had she seen me yank Grace down from the rocks by the sea lion exhibit? Did she see when I let Natalie wander a bit too far in the Great Hall while Grace and I watched the Whales movie? Had she noticed I let them play outside on the patio without sun block? What about when Grace threw a tantrum because I wouldn't let her sit in the green chair at lunch time because (horror) someone else was already sitting in it?

"Um," I oh-so-eloquently began, "I, I know I could use some help...I do have two young children and who couldn't use some advice?" I laughed nervously to keep from freaking out on her. "But I'm not sure I am in need of a parenting overhaul, you know?" Does she even know who she is talking to?!?

"Sure. It's just that your daughter would be great on camera and you are a local family with young kids, and we are really looking for that right now. Think about it." She handed me her card. "It's two weeks of free advice from a professional. Think of it as free help." She smiled and walked off to pet some bat rays. Is it wrong to hope that one of the ray's stingers hadn't been removed?

I walked away from the touch pool and listlessly floated past the next set of exhibits like a dazed zombie. Or like a sea bass circling the Kelp Forest over and over. Finally it set in that while she may have observed an awkward moment with Grace having an attitude with me, she probably didn't single us out based on my parenting skills. In all probability, she simply thought Grace was photogenic and the right age. But still I felt stunned and insulted but not wounded--like a snapper who got too close to an octopus and was inappropriately inked. Or like a sea star pulled from the real tide pool to live out her life in a touch pool where little kids sometimes jab and moms and dads crack jokes at her expense.

But back to my story. Mostly I was excited to be able to blog about the whole thing. Most of my readers actually know me and know how seriously I take parenthood. Those of you who don't know me can tell from my blog that I am a very intentional, while not perfect, mom. I make mistakes and get angry and sometimes let Grace do something she shouldn't, but for the most part, I try to make educated decisions about how to respond as a mother to my kids.

So that is why the follow up to the Supernanny/Aquarium experience was so great. Two days later I was at Target, the only place besides Costco where you can go in to get some detergent and leave $174.56 poorer with new swimsuits, hula hoops, Ziploc bags, kids’ gardening tools, goldfish snacks, and a Starbuck latte, among other things. We were just getting in the cart after a precarious experience in the Target bathroom that involved hand in the toilet (Natalie), fingers crunched in the door (Grace), and no cussing from Mommy (yay!). A woman approached us while we were negotiating the seating arrangements of the cart (where are those double carts when you need them?!) and asked, “Were you the young mother whose kids were just crying in the restroom?” My eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” I said, kind of briskly. I was in no mood to be recommended to parenting boot camp reality show again. Unless she wanted to say I could be an instructor.

“Well, I just wanted to say that I heard you being such a good mother. You were so patient and your calm demeanor really put your kids at ease. Look, it’s only been a minute since the door closed on her hand, and neither one is crying anymore. I had three in three and a half years, and I know how it is. Crunched fingers, hands in the toilet and all. And you are doing so gracefully. I just wanted to share since I know we moms don’t get validated enough.”

I don't know when I ever have smiled so brightly. I think I mustered a “Thank you so much,” before I moved onto keep from tearing up in front of her. As we walked away, Grace said, “What, Mommy? What did that woman say?”

“She said we have a good family, hon.” And she was right. I am a good mom. The reason Supernanny is so calm and controlled and helpful is precisely because she isn’t there 24/7. She can go home at night or after the two weeks and have her martini unpestered. When she showers with someone else, you can bet it’s because she chooses to, and he isn’t two years old and throwing her soap around the bath. When she goes to Target, she can drink her latte while perusing the jewelry aisle without fear that one hand alone can’t steer a mammoth two kid cart with two boxes of diapers on it while searching for the huggies coupon. I’d like to see the cool, calm, collected mom who can do it effortlessly while keeping a clean house, delicious meals, well-behaved and enriched kids, and all the while keeping her husband sexually satisfied with her perfectly shaped body from abdominal crunches. When THAT mom has a TV show AND is humble about herself, then I will volunteer to go learn something from her.

So I will probably call the Supernanny lady and see if they want to interview us. It would be a good experience, especially if we plan on pursuing anything dramatic with Grace. And I am not afraid of them. Supernanny, Bring it on.