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In What World
Should wearing red nail polish be worse for a girl than being able to play the French horn?
Since you're asking, allow me to show you this little vintage curiosity, a "Marital Rating Scale-- Wife's Chart" published in 1939 by a doctor at Northwestern (one George W. Crane, M.D., PhD).
For my part, I think that not only my husband but the entire apartment building would happily vote for Jungle Red fingernails on me over my waking everyone up as I bang around trying to "dress for breakfast." (Exactly what is required here, pearls, sweater set, heels over two inches?)
1939 produced a lot of quite interesting things, however, so we can forgive the year that produced this little rating scale for also giving us: Vivian Leigh as Scarlet O'Hara (a woman unlikely to let her husband sleep late), Claire Trevor in Stagecoach (her seams would be straight, but then again she's a prostitiute), Garbo laughing in Ninotchka (although it takes her a while in Paris for her jolly personality to appear), and The Wizard of Oz.
About the personality that created the little quiz (which incidentally, I found mentioned on Slate's XX Factor blog), I can only say perhaps he would have been better off with a cat (no cold feet under the covers, unlikely to go to bed with cold cream on the face, great at conversation) than a wife.
posted by Elise at 5:50 AM
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That Day Again
Well happy mother's day to all and sundry. I'm writing in that pasty jet-lagged state that sets in when one gets up at 5:21 am. But it isn't every day one gets to see all the stages of dawn breaking, so how's that for a Pollyanna attitude?
I may be bleary, but I did take note of a handful of articles that detail interesting trends in children's books and parenting literature. Since both of these genres have had me twitching
lately, it has been interesting to see what books Daniel Handler recommends, what new kiddie books Carolyn Hax has spotted recycling older, usually better, favorites, and for parents looking for guidance, Ann Hulbert at Slate suggests some volumes that won't make you feel worse about yourself. It is unlikely I will be drawn to any texts on the final list, though. It is hard enough to stay awake and make headway in any of the curious, pulpy or strange things I've been reading lately.
Overall, this season has been something of a disappointment. With the exception of toilet training (progressing apace, and that is all I will say about it), I have not made progress on anything and I walk down the street angry and stymied and have found myself increasingly wrathful when faced with people who don't like children in stores or dog runs or supermarkets or on the street. They're getting in my way and, as concerned as I am about the delicate sensibilities of the people around me, I wish someone would cut them some slack.
posted by Elise at 11:19 AM
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Policy
Rules are a major topic of discussion suddenly. There are of course the standard problems that three-year-olds bump up against constantly and it stands to reason that they would want to issue a few mandates so that their carefully constructed Lego and couch cushion environments don't get cleaned up by a thoughtless mother. A new edict was issued this morning:
If he touches my treatments he gets smashed!
This was largely ignored because Sebastian ignores all rules (or screams at them) and I never managed to uncover what exactly the treatments in question were, and since it was unlikely that they would be able to help with my headache I didn't feel this was pressing.
But springtime in Gotham is bringing out the preschool policy maker in everyone and now I want to start strangling people.
Among the people who need a kick in the teeth:
- The woman who told a friend of mine that her young children sitting on a (mostly) empty bus should stand because they didn't pay a fare and so didn't deserve to sit.
- The man who tried to tell me that Sebastian wasn't allowed in the dog run with my terrier because he isn't eight years old. (The actual rule, for anyone who is counting, is that children under thirteen are not allowed in New York City dog runs without an adult, and much as he would like to take the terrier and go off without me, I would be remiss to let Sebastian go before he can take more than eight or so consecutive steps.)
- The angry guy on the supermarket "express" line who picked a fight with the depressed looking woman in front of him who had a bag of lemons that, since they had not come in a prepackaged container, needed to be counted individually which brought her total number of items WAY ABOVE THE 10 ITEM MAXIMUM. (Happily I was just a spectator in aisle 2, and my check out of at least 20 items took much less time.)
I could go on. I went on all weekend about these jerks, in fact so maybe I'll spare you.
Now, you might think because I often write about etiquette and policies of social engagement that I like rules and enjoy the order they bring to the world.
But you would be mistaken. I like the idea of a guide. I like social suggestions because at times when I feel so deeply that I must only be a visitor to this planet with its strange ways and odd people I can pretend to understand what normal behavior might be.
But there are too many rules. I hate diets and food regimens. I hate dress codes and social straightjackets and I hate the clubby neighborhood smugsters who invent their own regulations and then get mad at you for transgressions you don't know you've made. Contrary to what you might think, I haven't yet actually been the recipient of neighborly bile, but it is coming. These eco conscious days make everyone want to protect trees from dog attentions (signs have gone up in various parts of the city hoping to shame owners into making the beasts re-embrace fire hydrants), and one gets scowled at for even using a single supermarket plastic bag. One can't let one's kid trot a few paces ahead on the street and I could go on.
So you'd think given how deeply people feel about these rules that life would be pretty civilized, pretty easy, but it is actually impossible. It's actually like living in a sea of preschoolers where the policies are capricious and changeable and he policy makers (the Deciders, if you will) are constantly revising their thoughts without warning and flying into screaming rages.
If it were really a polite world, the rules would be that one shouldn't constantly point out everyone else's small transgressions (there's always an exception or life-threatening or life-damaging situations) but as it is, I spend a lot of time wishing I could tell some strangers that they should go to their rooms or risk my taking their dessert and throwing it in the garbage.
posted by Elise at 12:10 PM
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