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Just in Time for the Holidays...
Alcohol consumption and pregnancy.
It seems to have all started with the sumptuous Rachel Weisz saying that she had a drink or two while she was knocked up and not being ashamed to admit it.
Now people are commenting in tenuous favor of giving knocked up women a bit of a break, both overseas in The Scotsman and here in the New York Times.
Perhaps pieces like this are reflecting some sort of new tolerance. I would dearly love to think so, but because I tend to be a glass-half-full type, all I can remember is that just yesterday the very same New York Times ran one of those dread scare articles about how what you do after you're pregnant really doesn't matter.
Rome's burning. We all just have to keep fiddling, really.
posted by Elise at 9:53 AM
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Words. Not From Any Sponsor I Want to Deal With
The television was on a lot over the long weekend, which probably says all kinds of things about me as a parent, but since my kid has paid attention to exactly one thing on the tube for more than 5 seconds (and that, since you're asking was the damp rendition of "One Singular Sensation" from A Chorus Line that was performed during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which I put on, wondering if he'd find the balloons amusing).
Anyway, I became rather glaringly aware of the wildly guilt-inducing text in the advertisements for infant toys made by LeapFrog and its competitor vTech's V.Smile (educational toys for babies).
I can't recall which company produced the most insulting of the ads, but there is one which features a little kid playing around with its mother while a sticky voice intones something like: "You can't decide how tall they'll be or what color hair they'll have, but you can shape their imaginations. . ." and by extension make them smarter and prove yourself a worthy parent and all that crap.
Needless to say, it isn't surprising that companies would decide to twist the knife around holiday time. Parents of older kids are surely being bombarded with child-based requests for all sorts of toys both amusing and unpleasant. (I now hate American Girl Dolls and don't care how edifying they are- I want the catalogues to stop showing up.) But why not give parents a break with their kids who are not yet capable of making consumer requests?
I won't be buying Felix any of these products anytime soon (though I admit he was given a couple of perfectly fine LeapFrog things- one of which he climbs on regularly), because I don't want to think about them and I now hate the ad campaigns so deeply, so I guess I just have to keep my fingers crossed that he'll get into one school or another.
Speaking of which, the saga slugs on: one more tour to go this week and then a little hiatus (during which I will block my ears to all V.Smile ads) before the interviews start.
I told you it was a long saga and it won't end before March.
But here's a consumer question: have you seen a good, non-idiotic set of wild animal flash cards? All I require is that they not be stupid, have photographs and not be religious.
posted by Elise at 11:04 AM
2 Comments
What the Weekend Has Taught Me
1
There is no lower age limit on having a taste for whipped cream.
2
Even if you decide not to bother with sending your kid to school, you have to navigate a cluster of educational choices and worries. Homeschooling is just the tip of the iceberg. The New York Times just tried to describe "Unschooling" in this article, which leaves me with a fistful of questions and convinced that actual school is the route I'll take. I wasn't ever tempted otherwise, truly. I may be contrarian, but I'm rather conventional when it comes to education, and wary of my science skills.
3
Try as you might to raise your child gender-neutral, the world will interfere. This afternoon in the playground, my husband found himself stuck in the middle of a debate that raged among a kindergarten-aged boy with a clutch of toy soldier; a long-haired, pink-clad, glitter wearing boy of similar age and the mother of the kid in pink.
The mother in question trotted up when she heard that Soldier-boy was referring to her pink child as a girl.
"Actually, she's a he."
"She can't be a he. She's wearing pink."
An enormous debate erupted. Soldier-boy kept looking to my husband (noodling with Felix in the vicinity) for support (not forthcoming), and becoming increasingly and rather precociously sarcastic about what he saw as a ridiculous state of affairs.
It ended with a very cute pink clad toddler friend of Felix's wandering up. Soldier-boy looked at her and snarked at Pink-boy's mother: "So I guess that must be a boy. He's wearing pink."
4.
The real lesson to take from example #3 is that it is pointless to get in to theoretical arguments with other people's kindergarteners.
5.
I saw Casino Royale and Daniel Craig doesn't disappoint.
posted by Elise at 8:15 PM
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Thanksgiving
This cheerful dinosaur topiary outside the Museum of Natural History in Manhattan is as good a herald as any of the freshly arrived holidays.
Felix had his first trip to the dinosaur exhibit recently, and I can only hope that he develops the same attachment to extinct creatures that I had growing up. My sibling preferred snakes and sharks, but something about the vanished nature of dinosaurs, dodos and a scattering of mamals (Tasmanian Tigers, anyone?) had a strong appeal the morbid kid I was.
This first holiday reminds me that I am exceedingly grateful for many, many things that don't need elaboration here, but I feel obliged to acknowledge them.
Here's hoping your Thanksgiving is splendid.
posted by Elise at 12:37 PM
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- Nobody can stab a corpse and not know it. - Really? When was the last time you stabbed a corpse?
That's a little snippet of chatter from Gosford Park, one of Robert Altman's last pictures. I just read his obituary and was extremely sad to see it because while he was rumored to be a truly difficult crankpot, he made some spectacular movies.
If you don't know his work, winter is a good time to start watching Altman pictures because they're generally very long and detailed, with tons of characters. I have found with many of my favorite filmmakers that the more I describe the work, the less convinced people are that it's fabulous, so here's a handful of my favorite Altman pictures, and see if the cool weather doesn't lead you in his direction:
McCabe & Mrs. Miller (Warren Beatty & Julie Christie in the West)
A Wedding (it's not a great movie but it's awfully weird)
M*A*S*H (Need I say more?)
Nashvlle (I won't describe it, but it's amazing)
California Split (Las Vegas! Poker! Elliott Gould!)
The Long Goodbye (true Sunshine Noir)
Gosford Park(Murder is secondary to class)
The Player (Hollywood snark)
I had heard Altman was working on a New York City art world picture, but a lot of rumors about him make the rounds- I guess I should say they made the rounds.
And lucky me, my limited movie going capacities mean that his final picture, A Prairie Home Companion, is sitting on top of my television set. Waiting for me.
posted by Elise at 9:50 AM
2 Comments
They've Changed It and Now It's Not Good
This is something of a refrain for my mother, and now for me. My mother is a true loyalist. She does not like it when the things with which she is content and familiar alter. "New and Improved" are horrible words to her. She hates it when her favorite Doritos suddenly become infused with "more" flavor or if pretzels are sneakily made sweeter.
I feel this way about many things as well. My particular sensitivity is to neighborhood changes. It is unpleasant to me when stores at which I was never a patron close. I don't like it when buildings are redecorated and changed. I'm just not a fan of nrighborhood innovation, particularly in Manhattan.
So even though it has been quite a number of years since I lived uptown, I am heartbroken to know that the movie rental store I have frequented since I was in high school is closing. I have been going to the Movie Place since before my family even owned a VCR. The people at the store used to let me go in and stand around watching whatever movie was playing at the time, and if something appealed as I was walking home from school, I'd take an hour long detour. (Does this give you a sense of the kind of teenager I was? Charming, right?)
Clearly, as the New York Times writes today, I'm not alone in mourning the Movie Place, which was a huge focus of my life, my entertainment and my work for many years, but I hate these "childhood's end" moments. So this is my eulogy and my denial at the same time. If I turn away every time I pass that storefront on my way to my parents' house, perhaps I can keep it alive and kicking.
posted by Elise at 8:10 AM
1 Comments
And on the Subject of Toys
I suppose it's gratifying to hear that the Peekaboo pole dancing kit (complete with fake money and little pink garter) has been removed from the "toys and games" section of its company's website. (I realize the company claims that this is a toy for adults, but really... the packaging suggests otherwise.)
If you really DO want to get it, you can find this thing still on the Tesco website (it is a UK company) in the "fitness" section.
The really astonishing thing about this is not so much that people might have a problem with encouraging their grammar school aged kids to take up pole dancing (and garter wearing, for that matter), but that anyone thought this would be a good idea for a toy in the first place. Is there any way this could be imagined as amusing? I'm actually asking.
And I'm also wondering what sort of protective language one can find in the pole dancing pole's assembly instructions about how liable Tesco would be if the pole decided to retract at a crucial moment causing some little acrobat to land on her (or his, let's be fair) head. (Heaven forbid.)
(Many thanks to S. for sending this story my way.)
posted by Elise at 8:55 AM
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Always Carry a Pen
The other night I responded to a Quinnipiac University telephone poll. This is the one kind of cold call I don't really mind so much because I like to think that my political comments are registered somewhere and are significant in whatever the poll is measuring. The last time I was hit, the questions were all about the 2005 New York City mayoral elections and I managed to get the question asker to crack up by shouting: "I will never vote for a Republican. Never, never, never," when he told me he thought I would vote for Bloomberg because that's what everyone else what doing.
This time around, the questions were more scattershot. Would Pataki make a good president? (No.) Would Giuliani make a good president? (No.) Will Bloomberg run for president? Will Hillary? (I'm not a mind reader.)
And then they took an odd turn. What is your favorite thing to do in New York for the holidays? (More or less what I do in New York in every season.) Will I spend more or less money on holiday presents than I did last year? (It is the height of optimism to think that I have even started to think about that, but thank you for adding to the list of things I'm about to be worried about.)
Ah.
That last question did get me thinking guiltily about presents. I have a bunch of children I need to shop for and strangely little toy imagination these days. I am currently fighting a losing battle with the American Girl Doll people from whom I ordered a birthday present once and in spite of rejecting all inquiries about wanting to get catalogues, I am now receiving them in floods. (Consider that a warning.)
And then I remembered the one really great thing I learned about at a preschool open house recently. While talking to a woman who made me feel kind of inferior and gauche for permitting plastic toys in the house (as I've said before, all of those encounters tend to be strangely competitive), I did catch the name of an "acceptable" toy catalogue that is truly amazing.
Part of the appeal is just nostalgia because Back to Basics Toys has a huge selection of items from my youth- things like Lincoln Logs and these odd Bill Ding Stacking Clowns. They also have all kinds of things I've never seen before: puzzles and things to climb on, games and the maniacal Fun Roller.
So as much as I complain about these open houses and as uncomfortable as they make me feel, I have to give credit where it's due. Don't go to anything like this without a pen because there's always the chance that you'll learn something good, and if you don't write it down you'll forget it because you'll have been too busy ranting about the weird parental encounters to commit it to memory before you get home. It might not help get your kid into preschool, but it could save your skin during the holidays.
And, no, I haven't started shopping yet.
posted by Elise at 7:28 AM
3 Comments
Autumn in New York
It remains curiously warm in Manhattan, which always makes me think that when the cold does hit, there will be Hell to pay for this respite. But the fact that it has been alternately lovely and damp this weekend encouraged me to sample one New York-y rites of passage and one supremely New York-y festival. I know the Ninth Annual Chocolate Show New York 2006 perhaps could have happened anywhere, but the city has been talking about it for weeks, trotting out models wearing chocolate outfits and whatnot on the morning news shows, and all, so it feels like a city event.
Saturday afternoon, I dumped Felix at the base of a giant mushroom, the best toddler starting point for the amazing Alice in Wonderland statue and climbing structure in Central Park. I climbed Alice when I was little and even the very limited photographic record my family keeps can testify to it and I'm sure my husband's family documented him scaling the Mad Hatter and even Alice's head on numerous occasions. It was about time I got Felix out among the mushrooms, in spite of the fact that the bronze statues are a bit slick. It was quite rewarding that he wasn't quite content to hang out with the dormouse and kept wanting to go up, up, up. But Alice's head will have to wait until he's a bit older.
The chocolate show was another matter entirely- a good bad weather choice, though plenty of other people, sadly from a stampede point of view, had the same idea. I can safely report that chocolate covered salty caramels are fantastic, that chocolate bars made with 87% cocoa are astonishing and I took a chance on a "drinking chocolate" product made by Schokinag Chocolate. I really don't need to start drinking my chocolate at this moment in my life- gradual delivery seems like a much better idea for someone with limited impulse control- but just the phrase "drinking chocolate" has so much the ring of 19t h century Vienna about it, and I found it irresistible. We missed the chocolate fashion show (except for some cocktail hats that were literal confections), and I took a pass on the "chocolate spa," but I can speak very highly of the chocolate sculptures scattered around the exhibition hall. Of course we discovered this Gateway to Chcolate masterpiece after the substance and I were already more than well acquainted.
posted by Elise at 5:00 PM
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Having a Snort?
Well the New York Times sure broke a story this morning. Apparently, all over the place parents are having a drink in the late afternoon while their kids frolic together. Do I care? Do you?
My kid isn't really old enough for late day group play, but I don't really see what the problem is or how it is worth a big article in the Style section. Unless the parents are all too soused to take care of the kids or have long distances to travel and no designated driver, I don't really see how this merits discussion. My kid has been to parties and dinners. He has seen people imbibe various alcoholic beverages and I don't really understand what's wrong with it.
To me, pieces like this one only serve to generate judgment, even as they claim not to.
And speaking of judgment. I had the oddest experience recently that I don't entirely understand, but it vaguely goes along with the whole notion of pass/fail motherhood that seems to be so much in the ether.
I had a brief conversation with a friend on the telephone. Not too much was said, overtly at least, but after I hung up I was quite unsettled.
I suspect my friend thinks I'm a bad mother.
There were no specific accusations or pointed comments, but the conversation left me feeling withered, as if there was nothing I could say to make her believe that I am a good or worthy parent, as energetic and generally with it as she, and the people in her closer circle, are.
There is always the possibility that I am mistaken and it doesn't matter, since this business is a sleeping dog that I am absolutely not going to prod. But I am feeling sobered, particularly since I'm the kind of person who doesn't really think that most people form much of an opinion about her one way or the other. And it is perhaps unnecessary for me to say that I wonder about my friendship with this friend.
But hey, at least I'm not hosting the multi-martini-playdate every afternoon. Or maybe that's what I should be doing.
posted by Elise at 3:01 PM
3 Comments
New Phrases For Bad Behavior
Recently, my etymologically inclined sister-in-law asked me if I had ever heard the term "helicopter parent." I had, in fact seen it, but only in print, never in conversation.
This turn of phrase has only recently been gaining traction in the United States, but (and here my sister-in-law did this research for me) it appears to be pretty common in Canada and in the United Kingdom. It is probably almost unnecessary to provide a definition, but it is a descriptive term, illustrating parents who hover over their children annoyingly and endlessly.
Actually, "Helicopter Mum" is one of the 9 categories of absurd parent illustrated in the new book (not available in the US, but widely discussed in the UK) The Madness of Modern Families. Witness the authors' description of this type:
"What's that strange whirring noise that accompanies little Hector wherever he goes? Why, it's Tamsin, his mummy, hovering at a safe distance, far enough away to allow him to interact, at least a little, with other people, yet close enough to swoop. Always ready with an opinion, a wet-wipe or a snack, she's as connected to him now as she was by the umbilicus, and as crucial to his wellbeing, or so she would have you (and him) think.
He's never on his own, Hector, although Tamsin did once leave him with Mrs. Arkle who cleans- while she went upstairs to change. At five he has yet to speak because Tamsin does it for him.
Tamsin is particularly noticeable at parties, where she stays, offering to help. How kind, you think, until you notice that the only thing she's helping with is Hector. She ignores any other child's request for juice, referees Musical Statues to make sure he wins and refuses to help with the washing up, because she can't see him from the kitchen.
At the playground she shadows his progress, car keys clenched in her hand in case they have to dash to A&E. Don't bother trying to engage her in conversation. If you'd really like to speak to her, go and chat to Hector. She'll be there like a shot, eager to respond."
So, I think this is relatively amusing, but in general I'm skeptical of canned terms for bad, ridiculous, annoying or impossible behavior. On the one hand, they turn unpleasantness into a kind of joke and make it borderline acceptable and on the other, they let the people who exhibit these traits laugh it off and not have to think about how they may be doing things that are socially awful.
I can imagine, for instance, some people, suffering under some delusions of self-importance might feel that this is some kind of compliment. It's GOOD to hover, because if one doesn't, who KNOWS WHAT WILL HAPPEN? And then being able to say with a little laugh: "Oh I know I'm being a bit of a helicopter parent, but you know how it is when you really care about your child..." (The speaker would thus ensure that she is absolved of looking like a lunatic while also coming off as superior to the person who is, say, less hands on.)
Am I alone in finding these catchphrases sinister?
posted by Elise at 2:34 PM
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Nursery School Is Nowhere Near Through With Me
Another preschool open house has come and gone. This one had snacks, including Halloween candy tidbits, which were so very welcome. I don't know how I'm going to get off the candy corn, frankly. I suppose it will just happen, cold turkey, when candy cane season starts.
Anyway, yet again the room was full of concerned parents brimming with the spirit of competition. It is a little distracting to talk to someone and realize all of their questions, which you felt were largely about how to find good birthday presents for kids and whether or not you feel like having to get on the subway to take your kid to school, are actually geared towards measuring up how much of a rival your kid would be for his kid's spot.
And there was this other odd New York Factor, which is that everyone, EVERYONE looks familiar. I saw about fifteen people I am quite sure I knew from somewhere, but sadly my faculties for such recall are limited and I often make mistakes. I have a strong memory of childhood mortification when I ran up to try to tackle my father in a drugstore, only to realize after the fact the this guy was a stranger. (No, at the time my eyesight was fine.)
A friend of mine remembers with some amusement having lunch with me a number of years ago when I was really depressed about something and surely did need a new prescription for my glasses. I spent the meal kind of contorting and shrinking behind my menu because there was someone at the next table I recognized from high school and I didn't want to have to do the greet-and-catch-up thing since I couldn't remember his name and was feeling I had made a hash of my life. Finally, she took a glance and told me I was an idiot because I surely had not gone to school of any kind with Matthew Broderick.
So after looking at classrooms and talking to teachers, squinting at semi-familiar and very familiar faces, and dodging the an extremely nervous mother who really hit the ceiling when she caught a glimpse of a sleeping class pet (mouse), we went in for a question and answer session. These things are odd because I have this sense that people are either inclined to ask incredibly specific things about their own children or just want to ask something for the sake of asking it, so they tend to fall back on patterns that have worked for them in their professional lives.
One business-type father asked the director of the school where she saw herself in five years, as if she were applying for a job from him. This yielded an interesting digression about Reggio Emilia education, which was probably not what that dad was hoping to hear.
Someone else pursued a strangely aggressive line of questioning about how this preschool would help kids get into public schools, forgetting that in New York City, kids go to the public schools that are zoned for one's residence, unless they score well on certain city-administered standardized tests that get them into other specialty schools. There are other special circumstances of course, but none of this has anything to do with what a preschool can do.
I don't really begrudge anyone the anxiety that produces insanity. It's a completely weird thing to have to do- figure out what school will make your kid happy when it is unclear what the kid will even be like in 10 months. Or what school will have space for said child, for that matter.
For the record, I am not done yet. There are still some places I have to see and frankly, I'm glad I didn't wind up applying to as many as I was told to put on my list, because even with the set I have, I'm fried, fried, fried.
And thinking it may be time to get my eyes checked again.
posted by Elise at 6:21 AM
2 Comments
The Watering Hole
No, no I'm not talking about the place (or places) down the street that serve up plenty of old standard and novel new cocktails (one is mildly curious about what they'll come up with for the holidays, but will probably refrain for numerous reasons, among them the fact that I'm a bit of a traditionalist).
Felix and I have become obsessed with a real and quite distant watering hole in Botswana. After my sister-in-law turned me on to this fabulolus webcam, Felix and I have spent quite a bit of time peering into this little window of Africa on my computer, pointing at animals. He has also become obsessed with National Geographic's WildCam Africa Animal Gallery. If you call up any of the animal images you can read some highly specific facts about a critter (sample comment on the Tree Squirrel: "They're very cute little creatures, and they make good pets. But they make a mess of the toilet paper.")
Perhaps everyone already knows about the WildCam but it has made early breakfast much more compelling as Felix consumes large quantities of fruit, we get to watch all sorts of exotic species perform their ablutions.
Late night on the East Coast is not a bad time to tune in, either. At around eleven o'clock in the evening, I caught some fantastic baboon activity, so if you're looking for nature exposure, you could do a lot worse than Pete's Pond in Botswana.
posted by Elise at 2:15 PM
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