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The Art of War
"When you have a child, you have power over your parents because you can control access. You can shut them down any time for any reason."
A friend tossed this out quite casually one of those bleak post-Thanksgiving afternoons, when the fact that it gets dark early really comes home because it makes holiday shopping that much more exhausting. It was coffee time and we were growling about family in the way one does when Christmas is coming.
I had never imagined such power. For a few moments, while she described how her child had given her an everlasting ace in the hole, I was dazzled and comforted. My companion made so much sense, and spoke with such confidence and this notion of control was so appealing that I felt a mercenary shiver. I would follow her example once I had my kid in hand, and people would tremble at the prospect of ruffling my feathers.
Alas, my poor spine. I do not know if my friend has ever had to invoke her secret weapon and threaten to withhold her child from her relatives to get them to behave, but I seriously wonder, if it came down to it, if I could show that much backbone.
By now it should be obvious why my Christmastime coffee conversation was so much in my mind. I've just wrapped up a week of family obligations, which have been at turns pleasurable and onerous. In the interests of discretion, I will not name names, but I will say that somewhere between one and three relatives exhibited startlingly bad table manners. Felix doesn't count. He can't chew.
It would be something of an understatement to say that I did not want to go on some of these outings, that I dread them and the plastic smile I have to assume. But I also understand that once there is a baby (or as some of my relatives insist on referring to mine, all evidence to the contrary, a "TINY baby"), Dread Family Visits join death and taxes on the short list of inevitables. I can't deny these relatives, even when they commit innocent, if annoying, transgressions that set my teeth on edge.
One gentleman, for example:
-tells me I am holding my kid's head wrong
-likes to correct anything that could pass for a medical term "There's no such thing as infant acne. That is a completely inappropriate thing to say."
-Waves his fingers in front of Felix trying to ensure the kid can "track" things.
-Otherwise sits a certain distance away from the baby, hollering "FELIX," and seems sad that, while the kid doesn't seem to know his own name, the dog will bark.
These are but little things, though when compounded with the other irritations of the last few days, I admit I came close to biting someone. But I do wonder, how far would I have to be pushed before threatening to deny anyone my kid. Even when my mother promises to corrupt Felix (by which I assume she means she will tempt him with M&M Peanut and chorizo) I can't imagine a situation in which I would cut her off. The way she loves him makes her too vulnerable. I control Felix and that gives me power so absolute, I could never use it casually. It must exist only for dire, unimaginable, unspeakable circumstances.
It would be much easier if I had my friend's guts and urge to control her family, if I worried less about repercussions and hurting people. As it is, I am stuck with the old standby solutions of ranting, and peculiar wishful strategizing. When my mother-in-law heard of one of these unfortunate assignations she said: "Well, you deserve a drink before you go. No! Don't! Save it for when you get home. If you feed Felix after you have a glass of wine, he may get sleepy. What you want him to do is wake up screaming so you can go home early."
Right on cue, he turned on the waterworks.
posted by Elise at 7:42 PM
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