|
recent posts
----------
Garish Monstrosities - OR - Why I Can't Bring Myse...
Train, Train
I Don't Need to Relate
Post-Party Crank
This Season's Exquisite Corpse
More of the Same or Something Actually New?
Fun and Threat &...
Finally! A Pregnancy Article of Interest
Whew
Just in Time for the Holidays...
|
 |
You've got questions, she's got answers. Be among the first to read Elise Mac Adam's new etiquette guide.
Pre-order from:
- Simon & Schuster
- Amazon
- Barnes & Noble
Post-Christmas Angst
I know, most people are troubled by having to see family and wrestle with thorny social circles for the holidays, but I have actually never minded all of this. I enjoy the frivolity and one really can learn something. Who knew that candy cane makers, when they get sick of tradition, make shot glasses out of their signature product? Who knew that I would, in a weak moment, purchase them?
After all, if it weren't for the rare dress-up occasion I would never know that my kid was such a clothes-horse, and so desperate to wear a tie. (No, he doesn't have one, but he insisted on carrying one of his father's to lunch and kept it draped it around his neck until fun won out over formality.)
And so what if the living room is littered now with little pieces of wooden people and their accoutrements? That's what this week is for.
My problem is the New Year. Toddler-like, I don't handle transitions well and the sands are shifting much too quickly for my stringy constitution. Most of the changes are actually for the good, but it doesn't really matter when you have to plan them or undertake them. I've been watching parents of slightly older children, studying how they guide their kids through the day so that each transition doesn't bring on tears and tantrums. I can only wish I had some similar techniques to apply to myself.
Instead I feel like the White Queen from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland:
"... the Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence unfinished.
`Oh, oh, oh!' shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as if she wanted to shake it off. `My finger's bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!'
Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears. `What is the matter?' she said, as soon as there was a chance of making herself heard. `Have you pricked your finger?'
`I haven't pricked it yet,' the Queen said, 'but I soon shall - - oh, oh, oh!'
'When do you expect to do it?' Alice asked, feeling very much inclined to laugh.
'When I fasten my shawl again,' the poor Queen groaned out: `the brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!' As she said the words the brooch flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it again. `Take care!' cried Alice. `You're holding it all crooked!' And she caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the Queen had pricked her finger. `That accounts for the bleeding, you see,' she said to Alice with a smile. `Now you understand the way things happen here.'
`But why don't you scream now?'Alice asked, holding her hands ready to put over her ears again.
`Why, I've done all the screaming already,' said the Queen. 'What would be the good of having it all over again?'
In spite of my angst, and the sadness that an Ativan holiday isn't available to me at the moment, I have high hopes that everything will work out and all my present raging will make me look as foolish as the White Queen.
posted by Elise at 7:06 AM
........................................................
........................................................
<< Home
........................................................
|
