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A Voice of Reason (and a Rash Act Gets Strange Acclaim)
This week everyone got all bent out of shape all over again about the tiresome, yet evergreen Stay at Home With Your Kid(s) or Get a Babysitter vs. Daycare debate. Every media outlet started spouting twisted interpretations of a study that came out which, to an unsubtle and rather careless reader, someone might be able to interpret the data as suggesting that children who are in daycare grow up to be middle-schoolers with discipline problems and aggression (and excellent vocabularies).
The conclusions drawn by the mainstream media should make any reasonable person skeptical. The analysis just seems too stupid and general to be meaningful in any way except to trigger a well-worn controversy.
Happily, Emily Bazelon at Slate did some of her own research and in fact spoke to one of the people who conducted this study and has written a piece that debunks the noisier more sensational articles that got everyone's back up earlier in the week.
In the meantime, in Manila, some parents are apparently praising the day care worker who took their children hostage for 10 hours as a way to prove to the government that poor people need quality day care.
posted by Elise at 3:49 AM
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If Only I Had Known...
The tiniest of plagues, a plaguelet, settled on the house and upon the persons of Felix and his mother and this occasioned a greater focus on today's morning news channels (1, 2, and 4 primarily- except when Felix commandeered the remote) than these programs usually receive.
I was pleased to see that the woman who taught the birth class I took to prepare for Felix, Erica Lyon, has introduced a new class at her Realbirth center: Sibling Preparation. I see from the class descriptions that the suggested age range for the class is 3-9, so in fact Felix is really too young to have taken it, but it is nice to know that there is the possibility of support out there.
I remain quite leery of how things will go when the next kid shows and have unfortunately been unable to console myself with reading that only really serves to make me feel more comfortable in the moment and has nothing to do with how I will manage events once they're in motion.
Have you tried a class like this one? How does it sound to you? Is it just the kind of thing that provides a little comfort before the storm breaks and it's just a matter of survival or is it the kind of thing one really should have taken advantage of... if one had known about it?
posted by Elise at 10:21 AM
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Never a Dull Moment
If one has had a child, it doesn't seem unreasonable to think that one knows something about pregnancy and how one's body will react to the weirdness inside. It is comforting to believe that one has some familiarity with what will happen.
It is almost as delusional as it is comforting.
Every pregnancy is it's own little roller coaster, where the plunges tend to be less thrilling and more embarrassing. For my part, I have a new thing going on: PuPPP, which is the cute name for Pruitic Uricarial Papules of Pregnancy. It isn't dangerous, but it is (in my case) a bit unattractive (looks like light heat rash) and very uncomfortable (making up for being hard to see by being incredibly itchy). I'm so glad not it is not summer. This business in the heat would probably send me diving into the Hudson River.
I have now invested in a wide array of skin creams and soaks that, it has been suggested, may ease these symptoms.
The cure? Glad you asked. There is only one cure. The cure is delivery and that is something I need to put off for a while, so I'm entertaining any tips and suggestions for home remedies, temporary as they may be.
Adding to the indignity is the fact that Felix heard me describing my symptoms to my doctor on the phone, which I did to confirm my self-diagnosis, and the following morning greeted his father with the happy announcement: "Mommy has a big, big, big, big, big rash!"
I suppose it will be at least ten years before I can begin to hope he will learn to be discrete.
posted by Elise at 12:03 PM
3 Comments
Lazy Lingo
It may be unavoidable, but I have never gone for cute verbal shorthand. My time is precious, but not so precious that I can't pronounce the words "Mission Impossible" without resorting to the annoying abbreviation "MI" and words like "Bridezilla" or, as I ranted a while ago "Momblocker" are just ridiculous because they either insult in a kind of undefined way or encourage the bad behavior they claim to resent by making it sound adorable.
So it was with some curiosity that I looked at the new site Babble and saw a recent column about various words that the anti-kid/anti-parent fragment of the childfree population uses to describe how repulsive they find mothers, children, infants, fathers, families, the whole wash.
I actually find the proliferation of this anti-parent/kid lingo kind of fascinating. I was of course familiar with the term "breeder" but had never heard words like "fleshloaf" (used to refer to infants) or "crotchfruit" (same) before.
Why does this happen, exactly? All lingo turns me off. Parent lingo is just as cloying to me, though I suppose less insulting. I hate words like "playdate" (I also don't care for it when people who aren't my kid call me "mommy"). I'm so disinclined to embrace jargon generally that I don't quite get why anyone finds it appealing, unless it really is to secure one's place in the club of the childfree.
But why should it be so important to draw a distinction that is first of all, not very interesting, and second of all pretty obvious? People who don't have children have very legitimate complaints in terms of workplace benefits and various considerations that people with children are accorded, but resorting to name calling just distracts from the actual issues. And don't think that people who have children aren't completely annoyed when little tiny screamers show up in movie theatres. I have a kid and I'm not charmed.
The Babble piece points out that there is something rather childish, middle school-ish at least, about feeling the need to invent a whole set of words to describe how icky you find certain people. This tends to reflect strangely on the people who hate the child-ed and children for being, well, concerned with things immature.
Still, if it makes everyone feel better, and pleased with themselves to invent new ways of being nasty about large chunks of he population, I suppose it can't hurt really. Hate language is very popular right now, in spite of efforts to make it illegal, so why not wave the free speech flag while you can?
posted by Elise at 11:21 AM
1 Comments
Really, Really. The Last Word on Preschool Admissions
So I had closed my mind to the whole preschool admissions fracas but then Emily Bazelon, a writer I tend to think really gets it, wrote a piece for Slate about preschool admission issues and I wanted first to point it out, because it is interesting (and furthers what I was saying about how this isn't all a "New York is such a crazy place" problem). I also thought she missed a point that was out there blinking away.
She feels, as anyone would, that the whole idea of interviewing a toddler for school is sort of insane. They're unpredictable, alternately antisocial and charming, and I have a hard time imagining how even experts can get a good sense of a child based on a 30 minute play session. Bazelon leaps to the defense of misfit tots, saying that they don't necessarily deserve to be thrown to the bottom of the application heap just because they are odd.
Of course they don't. Many of the schools I looked at (including a bunch where I couldn't even apply because my application didn't clear the "lottery") were quite insistent that they select children based on a wide range of factors, including some vague notion of balancing the class so that not all the kids are docile sheep or wildcats ("spirited" is the happy word for them, I understand). They also look to balance boys and girls in each class and attempt to arrange for a spread of kids born throughout the year instead of all clumped up on the "older" and "younger" ends of the spectrum.
But one thing that I was warned about that schools that have playdate "interviews" do examine quite closely is the parent. Parents are in the room for the playdate interviews and the observers really do check to see if you are out of your mind, if you press your kid aggressively to perform, if you encourage attachment issues (though no one apparently is surprised when these things crop up in unprovoked children). They want to see what you are like when other people are interacting with your child. It's hard to sit still and watch your kid do his or her thing. It creates the feeling that I certainly have when faced with a difficult conversationalist-- I always feel obliged to maintain the conversation, make (probably not at all funny) jokes and over explain. It is the beginning of letting your kid be him or herself and while it is a lot of fun to watch, it is harder than it sounds.
We, or perhaps I should say HE made it through, though, and I dread doing it all again with the next kid and with ongoing schools, but at least I know what I'm in for. Mysteries are a killer.
posted by Elise at 10:53 AM
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Miracle of Betty Hutton
I'm late with this obituary observation (this week has gone off the rails a bit), but I wanted to mention that the actress Betty Hutton died. Among other things, she starred in a truly insane Preston Sturges movie that I used to recommend to friends who were waiting to go into labor (though I'm pretty sure not one of them every watched it), The Miracle of Morgan's Creek. Somehow Sturges, who wrote and directed the picture, did a huge end run around the production code and managed to tell a story about a jolly girl, Gertrude "Trudy" Kockenlocker, who gets knocked up out of wedlock, by the U.S. Army.
The events that follow are indeed miraculous, in the way of all of Sturges's best pictures.
The movie has many things to celebrate, but I have to also mention a particular fondness I have for Diana Lynn, who plays Trudy's smart-ass younger sister.
The weather is turning on the East Coast. Tuck in and watch it, especially if you're waiting on labor.
posted by Elise at 12:47 PM
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Madonna! Outrageous!
So Madonna's former (presumably) nanny has apparently sold a proposal for a tell-all memoir about what it was like to bounce all over the world taking care of her charges and participating in the Madonna-family generally.
Now, I have no great sympathy for Madonna, and I don't think she particularly would want it anyway, but it did occur to me that pretty much any nanny's description of life in any family is going to come off as a tour of duty in a sanatorium.
Sure, Madonna set up some crazy rules that I would never bother living with, but I am always running into people with incredibly strict and dearly-held policies for their children, the violation of which threatens to topple everything into chaos.
Some have extraordinary food policies, and not for reasons of allergies or anything practical. These are particularly hard to navigate out in the world.
Others won't allow the discussion of any negative news items. I remember this was particularly difficult for one family I knew slightly in the wake of the events of September 11t h and in the end the children, who were school age, found out about everything anyway (and I suspect learned it all in a less reasonable and controlled way than if their parents had broken the story first).
There are people who prohibit public transportation and some who think that putting kids on school busses is tantamount to child abuse.
The word police (and I don't mean obscenities) also make me particularly crazy since it is hard to remember which people don't allow you to speak words like "gun" or "stupid" and then you're stuck getting glared at and scolded for being a bad influence.
And when I turn that lens on myself I imagine someone reporting extensively on how I don't force hats and gloves and sometimes after wrestling the same shoe onto my kid about 10 times in the bread aisle of the supermarket I give up and let him flap his bare foot around in the cold air until we can get home. I guess I would be the anti-Madonna in that case.
This is not to say that Madonna and her crowd aren't fair game and exposing their quirks the same way the Smoking Gun exposes various performers' contract riders isn't entertaining. Imagine being able to demand that no one run water in the house while you were napping and everyone complied instead of laughing at you.
Anyway, I can't say I'll read it, if this book appears. Not only is it not particularly my bag, but also anyone can see the equivalent all over the place. Since parents everywhere are embracing their Madonna-tendencies, there's really no point in being scandalized by the real thing. I suppose the book could be good for people looking for tips, or who want to admire the magnitude.
posted by Elise at 5:07 AM
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Verdict
So the upshot is that Felix did get in to preschool.
Not only is it a relief that anything worked at all, the school he'll be attending is one that his father and I really thought was great. There are so many philosophies of education bouncing around that looking at schools means getting behind one pedagogical style or another. Some are more aggressive than others, of course, so sometimes it comes down to balancing how much (or little) the Montessori philosophy irks you or whether you want to send your kid to celebrate Halloween or Valentine's Day, or what kind of time slot (morning or afternoon session) your child was offered. Another huge factor is convenience, since everyone wants a school that's within spitting distance of home or work, and that is a huge question.
In my case, something had to give and I found I had to wrestle between proximity and a program I really loved (and somewhat secondarily, a time slot that promises to work well). What that means, though is that my kid will go to school on the other side of town.
I have been told that I am out of my mind.
In my defense, there are a couple of things working for me: hidden comforts. I have a place I can work a handful of blocks away from the school, friends and relatives in the neighborhood, and my husband can do morning drop off. None of these factors exists in the schools that are somewhat closer.
It wasn't a decision, in the end, that was particularly hard, since the options weren't exactly voluminous, but since I'll scratch my head and ponder endlessly if given the opportunity, I'm relieved that I forced my hand.
In the end, I’m glad this business is over because it means I can cross a worry off my rather long list. There's not so much longer before Kid 2 shows, so in spite of this happy resolution, the fretting is only beginning.
posted by Elise at 12:16 PM
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Yeech
A disgusting headcold settled on all of the human members of the household. Something else settled on the terrier. (Someone saw him on the street and said: "Oh, what a beautiful dog! He's such an interesting color- almost purple!" This convinced me that a bath was in order. The only thing that could possibly make my brindle dog purple is that he had so much applesauce poured on his head that he was fermenting.)
We've all been coughing and drippy with red noses and watery eyes and moods to match, and everything is just that much more revolting when the cold is on the way out. What astonishes me, though, is the difference between what a toddler finds comfortable and how a marginally grown-up type gets by.
The kid is perfectly happy to have his face completely encrusted with food and- forgive me- mucus and fights savagely and horribly to avoid the touch of a warm washcloth. Just looking at his face, all cracked and multicolored makes me cringe.
Don't go ringing Child Protective Services just yet. I happily drop to the floor and scrabble around with my kid and a washcloth, doing my best to scrub down to the upper layer of child beneath the crud.
What makes me curious, of course, is why the filthy, crusty state would be preferable to being even marginally clean.
Is this a parallel situation to the Mitten Problem that kicked in this winter? (A vague solution has been found for that, by the way, but I won't elaborate for fear of jinxing it.) Is it just free will expressing itself, defying practicality? There is no learning process involved. No matter how many times the kid is wiped and dried and de-chaffed, he will continue to fight for his filth.
Or is he actually more comfortable?
Not that I'd really let him wander around looking like some sort of cubist representation of himself anyway, but these fights are a bit exhausting. He will now ask for tissues, but seems to do that only when he wants one, which has nothing to do with when he needs one. One can only hope that part will come.
posted by Elise at 4:05 AM
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Preschool Panic (the Continuing Story)
So the talk of the town, the town in question being New York City, right now is about preschool admissions. Notification of acceptances, rejections and waitlists happens this week for many (but not all... certainly not because that would make certain decisions simpler) nursery schools. The application process has been long, confusing, and through no fault of its own, chafes so hard that all of one's insecurities are hovering just beneath one's increasingly thin-skinned exterior. It has been on my mind in various forms for months now.
I'm far from alone, though this is an instance where there is no safety in numbers. (The enormous volume of tots needing edification being the problem to begin with.) An Op-ed piece in the New York Times exercises some of the angst and weirdness that goes with making something that shouldn't be that complicated incredibly difficult. This is nursery school, after all.
The Op-Ed is a parody of a "first choice" letter to a nursery school. You didn't misread that, and yes, the whole "first choice" question made me nostalgic for my pre-college days, too. Someone I know told me that her kid was accepted to nursery school based on "early decision."
The first choice letter is one of several missives that one is supposed to send to preschools schools as the last step of the application process. The nuances are something I can appreciate, given my interest in etiquette. There is something really Henry Jamesian about the whole exercise because these letters are not explicitly requested by the schools and their qualities are defined by very specific linguistic choices.
If you send a first choice letter, and you can only send one to one school, it should be the school you intend to send your kid to should he or she be accepted. Indeed, many of the schools communicate with each other, so there is a chance you could be caught should you try to hedge your bets with multiple first choice notes. You must incorporate first choice language into the letter (witness the Op-Ed example), and understand that sending this letter is like giving a Gentleman's handshake on a deal. If one is squicked out by having to commit, there is another letter one can send to express interest without an implicit promise. Sending an "I Love You" letter to a school, or schools, expresses extreme passion for the institution or institutions. It shows you care. Finally, if even the "I Love You" is too strong a message to send, there is the gentler "Thank You" note, which is a polite missive, thanking the school for its attention.
And even when it is easy, it isn't really that simple. Some schools aren't interested in first choice letters or anything of the sort, but then even the mailing of applications can take on a certain Cold War mystery. One school I know of is very fair in that it accepts children on a "first come, first served" basis, but to apply one must go to a specific mailbox before the first pick up on a certain Friday in February and post the application then and only then. Hand deliveries or alternative mail options are not accepted. If your application arrives before the following Monday, you will receive a call telling you to pick up the application and place it in the mailbox again.
I suppose this beats what some other "first come, first served" schools do, which is pretend that people can just drop in and pick up applications, when in actuality this results in freaked out parents literally camping out overnight on the street to be among the "first come".
There are, of course, plenty of choices when it comes to preschools and much of the insanity is due to neighborhoods suddenly seeing population booms or other vicissitudes. Really, this is one of those syndromes that is a big deal or completely under the radar, depending on how you feel about nursery school in the first place.
But don't look out into your splendid back yard and watch the family of deer happily capering in the twilight and rejoice that you're not living in Gotham. Preschool madness is spreading everywhere probably because there is no such thing as public nursery school. Friends in various parts of the country have complained about the difficulty and angst of school admissions.
So, just because New York City is an unfortunate trendsetter in this, doesn't mean nursery school freak-out isn't coming to your town soon. Sadly, this is another "call your Congressperson" scenario.
posted by Elise at 3:59 AM
5 Comments
Up Up Up With the Fish
Today is the day that Random House is celebrating The Cat in the Hat's 50th birthday, with all sorts of events and a "Read Across America" festival. The site actually has rather interesting information in its "About the Book" section and there are games and projects, some sort of vaguely described art auction, and opportunities to donate books to libraries.
There is considerable Seuss in the ether right now and I do feel obliged to direct you to the Dylan Hears a Who website, so that even if you're well beyond the Cat in the Hat, you can still find a bit of amusement and entertainment in this landmark.
posted by Elise at 6:01 AM
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A New Word for Awful
So in New York Magazine, Amy Sohn has a piece about her husband being an interfering dad type. She, or someone, has coined the term "Momblocker" which on the one hand cuteifies his behavior and on the other makes it seem almost as if it were common and not really unpleasant. In her shoes I would be tempted to pop him one.
"Momblockers" are fathers who know best. They take over and know the best ways to do everything- including things like breastfeeding, which would demonstrate an astonishing empathy and anatomical understanding. But I suppose the modern extremely sensitive man is possessed of all sorts of talents, alternatively impressive and incredibly annoying.
I have an experience with fellows of this type. One is the partner of an acquaintance who saw fit to lecture me on the birth of my kid (not the right kind), the timing of my kid's first bath (probably poor, but I couldn't remember when it was), the pleasures of breastfeeding (immense) and his experience delivering- no, I don't mean assisting the delivery, I mean delivering- his kid (painful and transcendent). I smiled sweetly. Now I find extremely sensitive fathers really problematic, but I am also annoyed by extremely sensitive mothers. I just can't stand the superiority and bullying that these folks emit with their know-it-all, do-it-better-than-you-can attitudes, especially about things that don't matter at all.
Becoming this fetishistic about the minute details of how a baby is fed or held or dressed or coiffed is pathological. Of course, it can't last because the child will eventually go its own way, but it also suggests that the control being exerted is not so much one parent influencing his or her kid's environment, but trying to command and best his or her partner as well.
So what if a kid wears something ugly or paint stained or badly fitting once in a while, or even all the time. Perhaps my careless dresser attitude comes from the fact that my father was never one to give up on clothes and had a rare talent for packing his children into outfits that were several sizes too small. There is some amusing photographic evidence of his offspring lying, prone on beds and couches, arms and legs stuck out stiffly in tight sleepers, sort of like those baby harp seals but not as cute.
And perhaps my carelessness in other things kiddie is also bad and would make these folks cringe and itch to summon child protective services, but not only do I feel there are only so many hours in a day to spend fussing the details, I suspect the extraordinary care taken over the child and the belief that only one parent can know what's best for the kid betrays something aggressive and rather ugly that all the pastels and cute terms can't disguise. Don't embrace the word. Why soft soap the fact that your partner (male or female) has turned into a bully? It's totally annoying no matter how you slice it, and making it adorable is just the first step toward making it acceptable.
posted by Elise at 10:09 AM
2 Comments
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