Dad: It just makes you want to do it better.
Mom: Do what better?
Dad: Everything.
Monday, April 26, 2010
The Grocery Store: A Study in Ethics
You and your baby arrive at the grocery store ready for business. You have just a few items to purchase--paper towels, dental floss, milk, and cold cuts. It should be a relatively simple procedure...but you have little time to spare. Already your little one is yawning, and you know a full-blown meltdown--your child's automatic response to nap deprivation--is less than 20 minutes away. Your mission is fraught with danger; each item on your list presents unforeseen obstacles. How will you handle this challenge? And are you willing to do what it takes, run over other customers if necessary, to meet your objectives? Take this quiz to see how you stack up when it comes to ethics in the aisles...
20 minutes to meltdown....
1. You reach the paper towel aisle and grab an economy-size package (enough to last your family for about a week). Unfortunately, your baby has stealthily grabbed a roll of toilet paper from a display and, in one Jenga-esque move, has caused the demolition of an entire toilet-paper tower. Do you:
(a) Walk away quickly and hope that the mess will be blamed on the family of six at the other end of the aisle.
(b) Attempt to rebuild the tower, despite your suspicions that whoever put this thing together had a degree in architecture and a team of union workers at his disposal.
15 minutes to meltdown...
2. You arrive at the dental care aisle and grab some floss. Your daughter is fascinated by the packaging--an irresistible combination of cardboard and plastic. It's the perfect distraction! However, after a few minutes you discover that the packaging is soaking wet. Do you:
(a) Put it back in the aisle for some other sucker to purchase.
(b) Show the cashier the one small spot on the packaging where she can place her fingers without soaking them in your daughter's saliva. And then think of new places to grocery shop.
10 minutes to meltdown...
3. You arrive at the deli line at the same time as an elderly couple. The elderly woman, who is standing (barely) with the help of a walker, begins cooing at your baby, while her husband analyzes the ham and grumbles to himself. Do you:
(a) Wait for the wife inevitably to say to her husband, "Oh, let her go first, she has a baby." (And, just in case the offer isn't forthcoming, tickle your baby to elicit a giggle. Resist that, grandma!)
(b) Let the couple go first, even though you know they will question every sale item, complain about the thickness of the slices, and order about 50 pounds of meat. Face it, they're old and trump you in the obligatory kindness hierarchy.
5 minutes to meltdown
4. You've paid for your items and go to unload your groceries into your car. You suddenly realize that your baby is holding a pack of Altoids that you never picked up and certainly never paid for. Do you:
(a) Dash into the car and speed away. Not only do you have all your groceries, but now your breath smells like crème de menthe. Score!
(b) Go back inside and wait to speak to someone at the courtesy desk. As your baby begins to wail and attract the attention of the everyone in sight, you abashedly admit that your child is a kleptomaniac. (Luckily, with the all the crying, the customer service rep is eager to usher you out of the store.)
If you answered mostly A: Congratulations! You beat the baby meltdown clock with your ruthless efficiency and total disregard for others. You are teaching your child important life lessons, preparing her for a bright career on Wall Street or teaching Sunday School. Good job!
If you answered mostly B: Yeah, yeah, you're teaching your kid all about courtesy and respect. But let's face it: It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. Dig through all the milk cartons, leave your shopping cart in the middle of a parking spot, cut in front of someone on the deli line. If anyone complains, do the adult thing...blame it on your kid. Or, better yet, do the American thing. Blame it on someone else's kid...
Happy shopping!
20 minutes to meltdown....
1. You reach the paper towel aisle and grab an economy-size package (enough to last your family for about a week). Unfortunately, your baby has stealthily grabbed a roll of toilet paper from a display and, in one Jenga-esque move, has caused the demolition of an entire toilet-paper tower. Do you:
(a) Walk away quickly and hope that the mess will be blamed on the family of six at the other end of the aisle.
(b) Attempt to rebuild the tower, despite your suspicions that whoever put this thing together had a degree in architecture and a team of union workers at his disposal.
15 minutes to meltdown...
2. You arrive at the dental care aisle and grab some floss. Your daughter is fascinated by the packaging--an irresistible combination of cardboard and plastic. It's the perfect distraction! However, after a few minutes you discover that the packaging is soaking wet. Do you:
(a) Put it back in the aisle for some other sucker to purchase.
(b) Show the cashier the one small spot on the packaging where she can place her fingers without soaking them in your daughter's saliva. And then think of new places to grocery shop.
10 minutes to meltdown...
3. You arrive at the deli line at the same time as an elderly couple. The elderly woman, who is standing (barely) with the help of a walker, begins cooing at your baby, while her husband analyzes the ham and grumbles to himself. Do you:
(a) Wait for the wife inevitably to say to her husband, "Oh, let her go first, she has a baby." (And, just in case the offer isn't forthcoming, tickle your baby to elicit a giggle. Resist that, grandma!)
(b) Let the couple go first, even though you know they will question every sale item, complain about the thickness of the slices, and order about 50 pounds of meat. Face it, they're old and trump you in the obligatory kindness hierarchy.
5 minutes to meltdown
4. You've paid for your items and go to unload your groceries into your car. You suddenly realize that your baby is holding a pack of Altoids that you never picked up and certainly never paid for. Do you:
(a) Dash into the car and speed away. Not only do you have all your groceries, but now your breath smells like crème de menthe. Score!
(b) Go back inside and wait to speak to someone at the courtesy desk. As your baby begins to wail and attract the attention of the everyone in sight, you abashedly admit that your child is a kleptomaniac. (Luckily, with the all the crying, the customer service rep is eager to usher you out of the store.)
If you answered mostly A: Congratulations! You beat the baby meltdown clock with your ruthless efficiency and total disregard for others. You are teaching your child important life lessons, preparing her for a bright career on Wall Street or teaching Sunday School. Good job!
If you answered mostly B: Yeah, yeah, you're teaching your kid all about courtesy and respect. But let's face it: It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. Dig through all the milk cartons, leave your shopping cart in the middle of a parking spot, cut in front of someone on the deli line. If anyone complains, do the adult thing...blame it on your kid. Or, better yet, do the American thing. Blame it on someone else's kid...
Happy shopping!
Friday, April 23, 2010
More Than Words
I've been reading a lot lately about the importance of helping your child develop language skills at an early age. As an editor and writer, I'm all about exposing my daughter to language in any way possible. Luckily, I've got two baskets full of informative, gripping children's books in the nursery. Let the learning begin!
Mom: OK, Baby, let's read this fascinating book called That's Not My Tractor!
Baby (Grabs book and throws it across the room): Ba ba ba ba.
Mom: No problem! (Picking up another book) This one is called The Wheels on the Bus. Let's give it a try.
Baby grabs book and begins chewing on it furiously.
Mom: How about this one? It looks really interesting. It's called I Love Sheep.
Baby: Thank you, mother, for your attempts to expose me to language and develop my linguistic abilities at such an early age. While I am not yet fully able to communicate my gratitude verbally, please interpret my pulling your hair and throwing my sippy cup on the floor as signs of my utmost appreciation for these early lessons.
Mom: You're welcome, I'm so glad we can have these special mother-daughter moments...
Baby (ripping pages out of book and throwing them like confetti): DA DA!
You know, I'm starting to think this language thing is overrated...
Mom: OK, Baby, let's read this fascinating book called That's Not My Tractor!
Baby (Grabs book and throws it across the room): Ba ba ba ba.
Mom: No problem! (Picking up another book) This one is called The Wheels on the Bus. Let's give it a try.
Baby grabs book and begins chewing on it furiously.
Mom: How about this one? It looks really interesting. It's called I Love Sheep.
Baby: Thank you, mother, for your attempts to expose me to language and develop my linguistic abilities at such an early age. While I am not yet fully able to communicate my gratitude verbally, please interpret my pulling your hair and throwing my sippy cup on the floor as signs of my utmost appreciation for these early lessons.
Mom: You're welcome, I'm so glad we can have these special mother-daughter moments...
Baby (ripping pages out of book and throwing them like confetti): DA DA!
You know, I'm starting to think this language thing is overrated...
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Training Days
I took the train to the city the other day to have lunch with my former boss. While on the train, a ride that, both ways, probably took longer than the lunch itself, I thought about how appropriate the ride was...symbolic in a way. As a work-from-home mom, I often feel like I live between two worlds. I don't quite fit in with the working-mom set. They worry about daycare; I worry about (barely) affording health care. I don't commute to an office. I don't wear a suit (or clothes that don't double as pajamas). I don't order my lunch from a shoebox-sized deli where despotic cashiers bark at you if you fail to pay within a 30-second time frame. I take breaks from my computer not to talk to coworkers or grab coffee, but rather to nurse my daughter or (on a good day) take a quick shower. I'm a mom who works, but not a working mom.
And yet, like many of the women I know, I'm not living the life of the "stay-at-home mom" that I imagined for myself. I can't schedule play dates because I have deadlines set by editors who don't care that I'd rather be at the playground watching my daughter squeal in the swing. I can hear my daughter laughing with my husband or parents on the other side of the wall, yet I'm glued to a computer screen in the office, trying to rewrite an article on establishing an LLC in Michigan (it's not too complicated, if you're interested). I'm a mom who stays at home, but I'm not a traditional stay-at-home mom.
Yes, riding on the train between two worlds--the quiet, serene village that is my home and the frenetic city that provides my livelihood--suits my situation. I've come to accept living in the "in between," creating a life instead of choosing a label. And if that means typing an email while nursing, or correcting a split infinitive from my iPhone while at the playground...well, so be it. My train may not always run smoothly or on schedule, but I'm doing my best to enjoy the ride.
And yet, like many of the women I know, I'm not living the life of the "stay-at-home mom" that I imagined for myself. I can't schedule play dates because I have deadlines set by editors who don't care that I'd rather be at the playground watching my daughter squeal in the swing. I can hear my daughter laughing with my husband or parents on the other side of the wall, yet I'm glued to a computer screen in the office, trying to rewrite an article on establishing an LLC in Michigan (it's not too complicated, if you're interested). I'm a mom who stays at home, but I'm not a traditional stay-at-home mom.
Yes, riding on the train between two worlds--the quiet, serene village that is my home and the frenetic city that provides my livelihood--suits my situation. I've come to accept living in the "in between," creating a life instead of choosing a label. And if that means typing an email while nursing, or correcting a split infinitive from my iPhone while at the playground...well, so be it. My train may not always run smoothly or on schedule, but I'm doing my best to enjoy the ride.
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