Nanny 911 Applicants - Tampa, FL
Posted: Sun Jun 25, 2006 2:49 pm
Fox comes to Florida in search of parents who are willing to expose their family flaws before millions of judgmental viewers.
By BEN MONTGOMERY
Published June 25, 2006
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TAMPA - The sign taped to the table between the Pretzel Time and the Chick-fil-A at Westfield Citrus Park mall says "Are your kids out of control?"
The woman sitting behind the sign is tanned and blond and has flown from Los Angeles to find Florida families for next season's episodes of Fox's Nanny 911.
"We've already had a few people from Tampa contact us," says Tami Brandel, casting producer for the show, who has no children herself. "Hopefully we'll get some more today."
Here? Bad kids? Parents willing to expose their familial flaws before millions of judgmental viewers?
Brandel is barely set up Saturday when the first family arrives. Three girls, all with blond hair and bright smiles, step to the table.
"You girls are beautiful," Brandel says.
Behind the girls stands their mother, Melissa Temple, who looks tired, and father, Chris, who has a shaved head, cowboy boots and a tattoo that says "Only God Can Judge Me."
"They won't listen to us," Chris says.
The girls - Alexandra, 5, Alyssa, 4, and Alicia, 2 - smile away. "I'm a model," Alexandra says. "A model princess."
Melissa fills out a questionnaire that asks for names, ages and behavioral problems. That's easy. Alexandra won't take off her tiara - going on six months. Alyssa won't eat but she drinks all night long. Alicia wakes at 2 a.m., ready to play.
"Nothing works," Melissa says. "The more toys you buy them, the more they want."
They bought the girls a horse and named it Burt. Now Melissa has to take care of Burt. And now the girls all want cell phones. That's why they came.
Don't they fear exposing their problems to America? "It can only help," Chris says.
Brandel likes them. She schedules a time to film them in their Carrollwood home. As they leave, Chris promises a ride on the carousel.
The show's premise is simple: English nannies visit troubled families and help parents get their children in line, using "Mary Poppins-like magic," according to the show's Web site. All is filmed and edited and shown to America. ABC offers a similar show called Super Nanny.
Brandel plugged the day's two-hour casting call on local radio and television. A few calls came in, but casting for the show is tricky, she says, especially at open calls in public places.
At the Citrus Park mall, there are tons of kids and tons of parents. Only a few stop by the Nanny 911 table.
"People talk themselves out of it," she says. "There are families that really need help but they don't want it exposed on national TV."
Then there are those who don't mind.
Donna Kennedy approaches the table holding the arm of 3-year-old Kaeden, a smiling boy who she says was "kicked out of day care" and now stays home with Grandma while Mom and Dad work.
"What are his behavioral issues?" Brandel asks.
"He hits me," Kennedy says. "Then he tells me he loves me after he beats me up."
Brandel takes her information, and the mom takes her son for pizza.
Once families are filmed in their homes, the casting producers submit the tapes to executive producers for review. When a family is chosen, a nanny comes to watch them for a week and help parents better deal with the children.
"Some of these moms I get calls from, they're just desperate," Brandel says. "You need help from a nanny?" Brandel asks a woman walking by.
The woman stops.
"I think we're okay," she says, "but I could put one in my neighbor's mailbox."
They get that a lot, Brandel says. We're okay, but we have a friend...
It's nearing 2 p.m., and toward the table comes a caravan of people who could not possibly be from the same family.
"Oh, no way," Brandel says. "Oh, my gosh."
Meet Tammy Taylor, 42, and her crew: Cara, 1; Jadyn, 2; Kimberly, 4; Kylee, 7; Jon, 8; and Jessica, 10. And Jessica's friend. And Taylor's daughter-in-law who is pushing a stroller and feeding a bottle to her newborn. And there are more at home. In all, nine children and three grandchildren living in 4,100 square feet in the Tampa suburbs.
"We wanted, like, five," Taylor says.
Taylor starts the paperwork and the kids ... well, one chews on the table, another darts to watch the merry-go-round, another heads to the play place, another toward a man carrying balloons, and another taps Taylor's thigh.
"Mommy, can you give me a quarter?"
Asked about exposing her family to the world, Taylor doesn't flinch.
"I'm not here for other people," she says. "My goal is to get my children to where they need to be."
Brandel asks about discipline.
Taylor, a nurse, says her husband is retired military and works in real estate, and he's verbally strict, military style. She, on the other hand, tends to be more passive and uses time-out as discipline.
"We're completely opposite," she says.
"Mommy, can I have a quarter?"
Brandel has seen enough.
"I want to tell your story," she says. "I want to see a day in the life of you."
She wants to send a film crew by the house to make a casting tape. How's Wednesday?
The little girl by Taylor's legs begins poking her mother's thighs.
"Mommy, can I have a quarter?" she asks.
Taylor's cell phone rings. It's her husband.
"They're going to come..." she says.
"I want a quarter."
"...by on Wednesday..."
"I want a quarter."
"...and you need to..."
"I want a quarter."
"...act like you always do."
"I want a quarter."
"Okay. Love you."
Phone snaps shut.
"I want a quarter."
"I don't have a quarter," Taylor finally says.
"A nickel? Mommy, a nickel? A nickel?"
Ben Montgomery can be reached at bmontgomery@sptimes.com or (813) 661-2443.
[Last modified June 25, 2006, 06:19:11]
http://www.sptimes.com/2006/06/25/Hillsborough/On_their_best_behavio.shtml
By BEN MONTGOMERY
Published June 25, 2006
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TAMPA - The sign taped to the table between the Pretzel Time and the Chick-fil-A at Westfield Citrus Park mall says "Are your kids out of control?"
The woman sitting behind the sign is tanned and blond and has flown from Los Angeles to find Florida families for next season's episodes of Fox's Nanny 911.
"We've already had a few people from Tampa contact us," says Tami Brandel, casting producer for the show, who has no children herself. "Hopefully we'll get some more today."
Here? Bad kids? Parents willing to expose their familial flaws before millions of judgmental viewers?
Brandel is barely set up Saturday when the first family arrives. Three girls, all with blond hair and bright smiles, step to the table.
"You girls are beautiful," Brandel says.
Behind the girls stands their mother, Melissa Temple, who looks tired, and father, Chris, who has a shaved head, cowboy boots and a tattoo that says "Only God Can Judge Me."
"They won't listen to us," Chris says.
The girls - Alexandra, 5, Alyssa, 4, and Alicia, 2 - smile away. "I'm a model," Alexandra says. "A model princess."
Melissa fills out a questionnaire that asks for names, ages and behavioral problems. That's easy. Alexandra won't take off her tiara - going on six months. Alyssa won't eat but she drinks all night long. Alicia wakes at 2 a.m., ready to play.
"Nothing works," Melissa says. "The more toys you buy them, the more they want."
They bought the girls a horse and named it Burt. Now Melissa has to take care of Burt. And now the girls all want cell phones. That's why they came.
Don't they fear exposing their problems to America? "It can only help," Chris says.
Brandel likes them. She schedules a time to film them in their Carrollwood home. As they leave, Chris promises a ride on the carousel.
The show's premise is simple: English nannies visit troubled families and help parents get their children in line, using "Mary Poppins-like magic," according to the show's Web site. All is filmed and edited and shown to America. ABC offers a similar show called Super Nanny.
Brandel plugged the day's two-hour casting call on local radio and television. A few calls came in, but casting for the show is tricky, she says, especially at open calls in public places.
At the Citrus Park mall, there are tons of kids and tons of parents. Only a few stop by the Nanny 911 table.
"People talk themselves out of it," she says. "There are families that really need help but they don't want it exposed on national TV."
Then there are those who don't mind.
Donna Kennedy approaches the table holding the arm of 3-year-old Kaeden, a smiling boy who she says was "kicked out of day care" and now stays home with Grandma while Mom and Dad work.
"What are his behavioral issues?" Brandel asks.
"He hits me," Kennedy says. "Then he tells me he loves me after he beats me up."
Brandel takes her information, and the mom takes her son for pizza.
Once families are filmed in their homes, the casting producers submit the tapes to executive producers for review. When a family is chosen, a nanny comes to watch them for a week and help parents better deal with the children.
"Some of these moms I get calls from, they're just desperate," Brandel says. "You need help from a nanny?" Brandel asks a woman walking by.
The woman stops.
"I think we're okay," she says, "but I could put one in my neighbor's mailbox."
They get that a lot, Brandel says. We're okay, but we have a friend...
It's nearing 2 p.m., and toward the table comes a caravan of people who could not possibly be from the same family.
"Oh, no way," Brandel says. "Oh, my gosh."
Meet Tammy Taylor, 42, and her crew: Cara, 1; Jadyn, 2; Kimberly, 4; Kylee, 7; Jon, 8; and Jessica, 10. And Jessica's friend. And Taylor's daughter-in-law who is pushing a stroller and feeding a bottle to her newborn. And there are more at home. In all, nine children and three grandchildren living in 4,100 square feet in the Tampa suburbs.
"We wanted, like, five," Taylor says.
Taylor starts the paperwork and the kids ... well, one chews on the table, another darts to watch the merry-go-round, another heads to the play place, another toward a man carrying balloons, and another taps Taylor's thigh.
"Mommy, can you give me a quarter?"
Asked about exposing her family to the world, Taylor doesn't flinch.
"I'm not here for other people," she says. "My goal is to get my children to where they need to be."
Brandel asks about discipline.
Taylor, a nurse, says her husband is retired military and works in real estate, and he's verbally strict, military style. She, on the other hand, tends to be more passive and uses time-out as discipline.
"We're completely opposite," she says.
"Mommy, can I have a quarter?"
Brandel has seen enough.
"I want to tell your story," she says. "I want to see a day in the life of you."
She wants to send a film crew by the house to make a casting tape. How's Wednesday?
The little girl by Taylor's legs begins poking her mother's thighs.
"Mommy, can I have a quarter?" she asks.
Taylor's cell phone rings. It's her husband.
"They're going to come..." she says.
"I want a quarter."
"...by on Wednesday..."
"I want a quarter."
"...and you need to..."
"I want a quarter."
"...act like you always do."
"I want a quarter."
"Okay. Love you."
Phone snaps shut.
"I want a quarter."
"I don't have a quarter," Taylor finally says.
"A nickel? Mommy, a nickel? A nickel?"
Ben Montgomery can be reached at bmontgomery@sptimes.com or (813) 661-2443.
[Last modified June 25, 2006, 06:19:11]
http://www.sptimes.com/2006/06/25/Hillsborough/On_their_best_behavio.shtml
