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You've got questions, she's got answers. Be among the first to read Elise Mac Adam's new etiquette guide.
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A Reading
Well, sadly I can't make it (nose should be, no MUST be to grindstone) but if you enjoyed what you saw or read of the Perfect Baby Handbook, you can hear some portion of it rendered by the author himself this evening in Brooklyn at BookCourt on Court Street (appropriately).
For my part, I will almost surely be working unless I am looking for my wristwatch, which I know I had this morning for a pediatrician visit but which has since gone into hiding. Not that I'm not sympathetic to its feelings. the boxes around here would tempt anyone to do the same.
posted by Elise at 12:03 PM
31 Comments
Waving? Drowning? Waving?
Forgive the silence. Last week the small collective I call my family moved abodes and now we're ensconced well... not far from where we were before.
And yet somehow this change has made me feel as if I've been asleep for months, as if the world has completely passed me by and I'm unable to sort out what happened. (When did we first hear about the Swine Flu pandemic anyway? I can't tell how panicked I'm supposed to be but I did meet someone today who shook hands by touching elbows.)
The children seem to be handling the changes pretty well. They're sleeping (not quite late enough but there are no window shades yet, so who can blame them really?). They're amusing themselves in their new space. Sebastian already threw a beloved toy out the window and we had to get a building employee to retrieve it, much to our embarrassment. (Yes, I'm employing the royal "we" at the moment.)
The hardest part though is pretending to be "normal" in the face of the move and not knowing where anything is or how to do anything. I have developed a bit of "unpacking paralysis" suddenly where I'm afraid to open boxes because I can't decide what the "right" way of putting things away is, though I'll have to get over this because at some point my husband is going to say something a little more assertive than: "Oh look, the delivery place sent us paper plates. We don't have to eat off the children's plates after all."
Anyway, it is good to be home. I just have to get to feeling a little more like a human being than a space alien playacting.
posted by Elise at 4:19 PM
1 Comments
Complaining
So the move is still pending, though it is scheduled for later this week. Here's hoping. And if you have any other ideas for non-incense based home charms, I'm open to suggestions. One can't be too careful.
Anyway, while I'm waiting for this big thing to happen, I happened upon this sort of sentimental set of articles on Slate about "idle parenting." They are extracted from a book by Tom Hodgkinson and the general attitude seems to be that parents should spend more time doing not much of anything with their children, rather than engage in highly structured, strategically crafted behavior.
The opening piece is about how people want children, have them, then complain endlessly about them and fail to appreciate and play with them. Well, maybe this is so, but I don't really know why this guy would write something that misses such a fundamental point about his subjects. It isn't that people have children and then start to complain. People complain. People complain endlessly. Some people complain competitively (which is territory into which I don't tend to venture) and get great pleasure about one upping each other, misery for misery. This tends to be a family thing, I think.
My own family has a few tendencies, less competitive and more standard. My mother, for instance, has a peculiar kind of nostalgia that I fear I have inherited a little bit where she always feels beloved things have been altered. She is often right, of course and I think I've written about "They Changed It and Now It's Not Good" syndrome here before. (This syndrome applies broadly: to the subway system, the formula for Doritos, any "improvements" in products, new menus in restaurants. She doesn't mind progress, but does tend to lament change.
But I'm drifting. I suspect a lot of people would read The Idle Parent, whose subtitle is: "We had children and then we complained" and say that people shouldn't be having children in the first place. This is one of those obnoxious attitudes that inevitably ends up with people ending up in: "You're a Nazi/No YOU'RE the Nazi" arguments. People do complain about their children, but they complain by nature. It isn't as if they wouldn't be complaining about something if they didn't have children and it isn't even as if the lament is reflecting fundamental unhappiness. I have been seriously under the gun lately and rising very early to work, which is hard but it is the only system that guarantees any kind of progress. This is fair enough, I think, but the other morning, Felix woke up and began a pre-dawn howl after I had only been at it for about 20 minutes. I complained about that. I don't actually think there's much wrong with being frustrated about this sort of thing. The article seems to suggest that to even feel torn in this way is unhealthy.
The second piece in the series talks about how one should spend a lot of time with your children in unstructured activities, NOT going to amusement parks and museums. Surely there is some sort of middle ground one can reach for that doesn't involve constant frantic activity and the sort of shut-in life that Hodgkinson writes fondly of when he says: "At home, you are free. You can create your own fun, at no cost whatsoever. We often now stay at home all day on Saturday and all day on Sunday." My home not being some sort of small Utopia, I would be sorely tempted to jump out the window.
Of course I get the idea of not entering a schedule frenzy, but there's something of the self-righteous in here that makes me want to do something wild and rebellious, like go to a zoo for the better part of a day. Anyway, this theory of living is not for me and I'm as lazy as the next person.
posted by Elise at 4:12 AM
1 Comments
Bless This House
Well, not THIS house, but the next one.
A friend and I were chatting recently about various home issues and I was suddenly reminded of the days of the Angry House in our previous apartment. These were sort of remarkable not just because everything broke but for the way in which they fell apart and also for the ways in which they were unfixable. Our super was also sort of broken and unfixable, which may have added to the problems.
But it was so odd to have the front door handle break (and yes, I did discover that all front doors must be lever-style for ADA reasons)-- and that was completely unfixable and replacing it took weeks so getting in and out was interesting. And then some handles on two doors and a closet fell off.
There were the sinks: a bowl in one broke (my fault), then these odd hoses that I didn't know were even part of the inner workings of the thing broke (and these had been discontinued of course). The bathtub drain quit in a way that didn't seem possible. The dryer stopped drying, but it turns out that the problem was in a vent (a fascinating diagnosis for this, by the way), and finally three days before we had to leave, on Christmas, the kitchen sink faucet had a spectacular swan song casting water everywhere. I love New York because even in the waning days of the year one can find a plumbing supply store open that will match a faucet for you.
And here, there are a few issues too, such as a shower that hasn't been usable for months.
So my friend said that she had been given once an object, a sort of charm to take the mischief out of her house. She has misplaced it and coincidentally is having some indications of Angry Apartment herself now...
But this does have me thinking idly. Surely there are practices that people have for greating good will in their houses. Of course there's feng shui, which itself is fascinating but requires considerable discipline and study. What else is out there? Do people rely on charms and talismen? Incense?
As you can see, I'm not inclined to exert myself particularly, but since I am starting in a new home soon (I can count the days now even), it might be wise to have a bright clean slate.
Bright and clean so my children can grub on it with their little mitts, of course.
posted by Elise at 3:19 AM
2 Comments
Distance
So, today has been a welter of domestic stuff: discussions about schools that Felix may or may not attend in the future (it is a delicate and mysterious process every step of the way), sorting out moving issues (everyone needs something faxed somewhere), and trying to figure out cupcakes for an upcoming birthday (I'm not cooking until we move).
And I'm chugging along on this, trying to forget the other things that have me worried (absence of respectable clothing being but one of them, word count being another), when a little news blurp I saw just blasted me out of that haze. Porn star Marilyn Chambers died, rather abruptly at 57. I am actually not familiar with her porn star work. Really. Insatiable has never been on my radar. But I have seen and feel somehow attached to another picture she starred in, David Cronenberg's Rabid (which I notice actually came out before her signature movie).
In Rabid, Chambers plays a woman who, following a terrible accident is repaired by a fabulous new experimental medical technique, which works wonders except that she becomes a sort of vampire person, feeding off a strange syringe-like new organ that springs from her armpit and leaves a trail of, well, rabid, zombie victims in her wake.
I am a huge fan of David Cronenberg and I'm not ashamed to say that I once wrote him one of th two fan letters I've ever written. It is a little funny, though to be consumed this afternoon with the career and mysterious (for the moment, at least) death of Marilyn Chambers and as always, I wonder, when they start watching movies, what my children will think of their mother's taste. I made some headway with Buster Keaton shorts, but I think I'll hold off on the body horror for a while.
posted by Elise at 12:18 PM
0 Comments
Before Children, Unremarkable... Post-Kids Detestable
Historically, I have never been fussy about the household hardware-- cabinet pulls and doorknobs, little latches and lock mechanisms. As long as they basically function and aren't hanging crooked, I am all right with them. Or rather, I was all right. The past three years have taught me that my casual attitude was misplaced and now that our move is fast approaching (I can't believe I said that), I am so looking forward to waving a not-so-fond farewell to the lever door handle.
When did these things become fashionable? I don't mean fashionable in any design sense (though I suppose I mean that too), rather they seem pretty ubiquitous. Are they easier to install? Cheaper? Do they have some sort of secret advantages?
I ask because, and take this as a PSA if you're contemplating door handles. Don't get levers. Very young children can open them where doors with ye olde fashioned round knobs can still foil them. This means you can keep them out of the bedroom if you're trying to have a "professional" conversation or more easily stop the hilarous door swinging/slamming games that for some reason start happening around 5:30 in the afternoon (happy hour?). I hate them because my coats get caught on them when I'm late (again). I hate them because the kids can't seem to stop hanging on them and in our last apartment one of these things somehow broke (though I don't know if I can blame the kid 100% but he couldn't have helped and it was a spendy thing to replace).
So soon I say good-bye to the levers. And if you still see the appeal, don't say I didn't warn you. They're as innocuous as jellyfish.
posted by Elise at 4:00 PM
1 Comments
They SAY You Forget
There is this claim out there that one forgets the discomfort of childbirth (which is why people find it possible to return for multiple rounds), but there is hardly anyone who doesn't find a story in their birth experience.
If you have good recall and would like to jot down 100 words that encapsulates the birth of your child, you could enter Smith Magazine's "What's Your Pregnancy Story" contest and win a tidy collection of stuff both edible and readable. Smith, if your curious, brought us the six-word memoir that has been so popular lately.
No, I have not yet submitted either of my possible tales... but that doesn't mean I won't.
Good luck.
posted by Elise at 9:53 AM
0 Comments
Open Call
Among the numerous elements I'm juggling is a promise to produce a new book, a follow-up, a sequel, a natural continuation of the comportment issues I talked about with weddings in Something New.
The subject, and the reason why you're seeing me mention it here, is parenting etiquette. I'm dealing not so much with how to get children to behave well, rather, the book is about how to navigate tricky, disastrous, even nightmarish social situations as a parent, potential parent, or person who deals with children regularly. (My recent airplane experience, for instance, offers some fodder on both the parent and non-parent.)
Progress is well under way, but I thought I'd cover all bases, do due diligence and see if I had forgotten anything.
So, if you have anything you'd like to get off your chest, be it old insult or recent social scramble, I'd love to hear about it. I never use names and I chance all identifying details and often reframe situations entirely, so don't worry about anonymity. One thing I've learned from years of writing about etiquette is that, no matter how weird and singular you think your problem is, there are plenty of people out there who have wrestled with the same thing. (How many letters have I gotten about mothers and mothers-in-law who have worn long white wedding dresses to their sons' and daughters' weddings? More than one.)
I'll take it all: pregnancy, infertility, childbirth, babysitter problems, school snafus, car pool disasters, Other Parent Oddness, you name it.
Feel free to post in comments or write at greater length to me at indieetiquette(at)yahoo(dot)com.
Many thanks and cheers,
Elise
posted by Elise at 4:46 AM
2 Comments
"I've got hampers of ironing to do and my diet pill is wearing off"
Don't you love John Waters? This is a line from the original movie Hairspray and it was delivered, of course, by Divine, and it has been rolling through my head all week?
"Why would that be?" You may ask, "Surely you haven't lifted an iron in years. At least it doesn't appear that you have. And clearly you aren't taking diet pills."
No. But that line perfectly encapsulates my state of being these days. I have that edgy feeling of being overwhelmed and scrambling and needing to consume massive quantities of Red Hots or jelly beans just to take the edge off (someone save me from myself). You see, there really aren't enough waking hours and so to try to get any work done (because I have two painfully sharp deadlines to wrestle into submission), I've embarked up on a doomsday schedule in which I rise at five am and poke away at things until the shouting starts...
But those kids must be psychic because for the first 2 days of doomsday sleep reduction they woke up at 5:45, permitting me just enough time to work myself into a hole and not quite get out of it. So I continue the day exhausted and wondering why I make the effort anyway. Still one must keep on keeping on.
Here's hoping I can stay away from the Easter candy because, though it has been rumored to assist productivity and clear up the skin, I don't want diet pills to actually become a helpful suggestion, rather than a joke about the 1960's.
posted by Elise at 9:44 AM
5 Comments
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