Dinnertime discourse for little people

It's always thrill to see a mannerly topic garner headlines, even if only in the “style” section. And so “Table Talk: The New Family Dinner” in Sunday’s New York Times was a welcome sight. The article describes the habits, conventions and rituals of family dinner conversations, cites examples from the childhoods of famous and/or highly successful people, including Johnathan Safran Foer, Amy Chua, Laurie David, and Rahm Emmanuel, and describes the Obama family “rose and thorn” ritual in which family members enumerate the high and low point of their day.

While some might find such family conversation strategies contrived, I was inspired. Would it be possible to use the “rose and thorn” trick to steer our family dinner conversation away from Star Wars, Captain Underpants, and Why can’t I go see the Hunger Games? Could we manage to banter about ethical conundrums? Geopolitics? Would heated discussions of current events propel my children into fame, fortune and politics as it in the Emmanuel family?  Hardly, yet it’s worth the effort. Guiding our children towards informed conversations means setting expectations about behavior, treating them with the civility and respect we hope they will show others, and teaching them about the larger world. Such family table talk is hardly “new” as the New York Times title suggest. It's just good manners.

The International Order of Sympathetic Parents

A modern mother may one day find herself in need of a few PVC fitting to make a small household repair. Though she considers herself competent in many areas, this particular task, involving plumbing fixtures and possibly some special glue, falls decidedly outside her core competencies. After striking out at the local hardware store, she sighs and resigns herself to the no man's land of a cavernous big-box retailer. She'll have to figure it out for herself, and with a toddler in tow.

And so, she finds herself, standing in front of a seemingly endless wall of elbow joints and minimizers in every possible size, with her toddler screaming and kicking in frustration that she won’t let him scale the wall of pipes nearby. She shuts out the wailing and hurriedly picks PVC pieces, trying to fit them together and make a match to the broken fixture. Nothing fits; nothing matches; child continues screaming. Like a mirage, a salesperson materializes, “What are you looking for? I heard the crying baby and figured you must need help.” She extends her arm, her hand cradling fragments of a fixture. He takes a look, plucks a fitting from the many, many bins, says “be back in a sec," returns with another piece, puts the two together and voila, a match. “I’ve got three of those screamers at home myself. I know how it is,” he says. And there it is – an invocation of the international order of sympathetic parents.

For all the times a crying child in a public place garners withering looks of annoyance and disgust, we hope our well-mannered readers encounter a kind and understanding fellow parent, grandparent, or other adult. When a parent recognizes, remembers and comes to the aid of another, temporarily struggling, parent, he joins the order of sympathetic parents, a lifetime membership. So, thank you to Jay at the Home Depot. And, thank you to the many mothers and fathers (and others) who hold the door for mothers carrying small children, help carry strollers up and down stairs, and stop parents on airplanes and in restaurants to compliment them on the behavior of their (mostly) well mannered children. Thank you all for your magnanimous civility.

I'm not here to make friends!

The early years of motherhood can be lonely for a mother who stays at home, and she may find herself frequenting parks, toddler music classes, and the public library, partly for the benefit of her child, partly to meet some like-minded mothers and probably mostly just to get out of the house. Like a young, single man going for a “run” with a puppy, this mother is ready and available for conversation. (Understandably so.) Unlucky for her, then, when she runs into another variety of mother, a mother of many children and/or older children. Out for a jaunt with one baby or toddler, this mother may be enjoying time with her youngest, who can not yet ask questions like “so, how exactly does the baby get out of the mommy’s belly?” (“Birth canal,” of course.)

When the new-ish mother sidles up to chat about diaper bags and preschool, the more experienced mother may be thinking, “oh please, please, don’t make me engage in small talk! This is boring enough already.” Whereas, she once would have welcomed the interaction of an informal mother’s group, now, she just wants to watch her child play/dance/explore and possibly sneak in a little time with her Blackberry. So what is the well mannered mother to do about this? Clearly, acting like a reality TV contestant and declaring "I'm not here to make friends!" is out. Packing up and heading home is also not likely an option. Instead, she could politely indicate a disinterest in conversation by keeping her answers short and questions few. She could casually mention the older children. Or, she could remember her own boredom and loneliness as a new mother, smile, and chat. In no time at all, she may find herself enjoying a casual conversation with her husband's college roommate's sister's friend, with a former buyer for Bergdorf's, or some one who used to clerk for a supreme court justice. She may even find the whole experience a bit interesting, fun, or informative. And, all while watching the her child giggle and clap his chubby hands or scale a playground ladder for the first time.

Tie One on Today

Tie on a necktie, that is. May 4th is national tie a tie day, as recently proclaimed by Antwone Fisher, author of the recently published book, A Boy Should Know How to Tie a Tie: And Other Lessons for Succeeding in Life.

The authoresses at Manners of Modern Mothers would like to salute Mr. Fisher and all the intrepid mothers (and fathers) out there who work hard to convince their sons that "handsome clothes" are really not that bad, endeavor to teach their sons to tie their own ties, and continue to strive towards civilizing their offspring.

More kudos to those mothers who manage to consistently have blazers, ties, dress pants, button-down shirts, and dress shoes, all of the approximate right size, and all clean, pressed, and waiting in the their sons' closets.

Emergency Room Etiquette

Unfortunately, most mothers (and fathers) will sometime find themselves sitting in a room full of hollow-eyed strangers, with a child curled up and clinging, trying to ignore the TV blaring CNN or Nick at Night. In other words, many mothers will someday find themselves waiting in the Emergency Room. Perhaps a daughter may decide to ski herself into an oncoming tree, maybe a young child needs IV fluids after a virulent GI bug, or a son may need some x-rays after some excessively ebullient superhero enactments. Whatever the reason she ends up there (and we hope it is always a relatively benign one), a mother may feel understandably anxious, upset, overwhelmed and even terrified. The problem is that everyone waiting in an ER is white-knuckled, worried, and waiting with a loved one in need of medical care – a recipe for frayed tempers and lack of consideration. A wise mother knows, however, that maintaining her manners in the face of the apparent chaos and intensity of the ER, is not only the “right thing to do,” it may also help her child get good care.

ER doctors and nurses have seen it all. They will not be amused by imperious requests to “see a manager,” casually dropped comments about knowing a hospital board member, or disrespectful language. Pull some really colorful stunts, and they may even blog about you, but they won’t take care of your child any faster. A mother is her child’s most important advocate but irritating the staff is not advocacy. Asking pointed questions politely, paying attention, taking notes, understanding the expected sequencing of events (see doctor, medical testing, see doctor again), and learning the names of the medical staff are all effective ways to simultaneously maintain civility and advocate for a child patient. No need to fear seeming demanding, it is well within a mother's rights to ask for an update on her child’s status, just remember to use "please" and "thank you" and for goodness sakes don’t ask every 5 minutes. With luck, the child will be discharged shortly with a sheet of instructions, possibly a cast, prescription or stitches, and a follow-up appointment scheduled. In these cases, all parties should leave with a sigh of relief and healthy sense of gratitude.

Diaper Danger (part 2)

The mother of very young children may sometimes find herself in a busy restaurant or on an airplane, with a baby or toddler in urgent need of a diaper change. She may feel a moment of panic when she sees the limited and paltry options for changing: (1) a closet-like bathroom of dubious hygiene with no counter or other horizontal surface, or (2) right there, at the table or airplane seat. That’s it. Even the best-equipped diaper bags can’t rectify this situation.

As she considers the crowded scene before her, a mother can be forgiven for thinking no one will notice if she sneaks in a quick diaper change, right there, at her seat. But they will. There are always people grumpy to see babies and small children in restaurants and on airplanes, no matter how quiet and angelic. A visible public diaper change just might send one of these people over the edge, turn the stomach of an otherwise child-loving observer, or even violate health codes.

And, so, despite the indignity and frustration, the well-mannered mother must swallow hard, grab her diaper bag and make it work. In a restaurant, she could consider escaping to her car, if she drove. Or try using a reclined stroller as a “changing table” if she can find a discreet place for it. However she manages, she keeps the diaper change private. She may be thinking, “this is not what I signed up for!” as she cradles her baby’s head and shoulders with one arm, grabs the wipes and changes the diaper with the other arm, all while limiting contact with the paper towels and changing pad on the bathroom floor. She may even break into a sweat. But she will know that she has made her own heroic contribution towards keeping the world civilized, even if the perpetually grumpy people sitting next to her don’t have the slightest clue what she has spared them.

Oh, Please!

Every well mannered mother wants to teach her children to use the word “please.” And most know that one effective strategy is modeling the use of “please” when making polite requests of her child:
“Please help set the table, darling.”
“Please pass the butter.”

Yet, the well mannered mother also knows there are times when adding a “please” is neither effective or recommended:
“Please don’t hit Mommy in the face, sweetheart.”
“Please? Honey? Can you stop kicking the back of that very large man’s chair?”
“Please! Stop beating your brother to a bloody pulp.”

Hitting, kicking, and the kind of atrocious behaviors that land a family on a reality TV nanny show, all need to be addressed immediately. In these situations, she can be confident enough to skip the pleasantries and go for a direct command: “Stop it.” No raised voice necessary, no pleading, no extra words, because this is not a request, but an instruction. Think about it. Is continuing to hit his mother/ kick the seat/ beat his brother really an option for the child? Of course not, and the well mannered mother wants to make sure her child knows that.

White Lies and Homework Time

Some evening, a well mannered mother may find herself helping a child with a homework assignment in which he is required to write a compliment for each classmate. After dashing off a few compliments to his friends, the child lays his head on the table, taps his pencil on the table, stares off into space. Though she may be thinking “Are you kidding me?! This is what passes for homework these days?!” the well mannered mother takes a deep breath and peruses the class list. “One of these people must be funny. What about him, he makes you laugh, right?”

The child responds, deadpan, “He’s not funny.”

“Ever? Even a little bit?”

“No”

“He seems funny to me.”

“He’s not.” Head back down onto the table. “He just thinks he is.”

Children are raw and uncompromising in their assessments of one another. Though some may learn to tell social lies from a young age (“that sweater is beautiful, Grandma”) their world is not greased by the polite pleasantries of adults. They know who their friends are and who has been making faces behind their backs. With only a few scrawled compliments standing between the child and his bedtime, the well mannered mother may be tempted to say, “if he thinks he’s funny, just tell him he is and he’ll feel flattered and complimented.” But she knows she can’t ask her child to say something he doesn’t believe. Not for social expediency. Not for bedtime expediency. One could call it a white lie, but it’s a lie nonetheless. So, the well mannered mother and child review the adage posted on his classroom wall: “Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?” And, she may say, “Lets try again and think of something true. He did a good job in the school play, right?” Kind? Yes. True? Yes. Necessary? To finish this homework assignment, absolutely.

You may find yourself

From time to time the well mannered mother may find herself driving a car much larger than she ever wanted to own, full of yelling children, a few of whom are hers, to an activity in which she has zero personal interest. In the immortal words of The Talking Heads, "Well, how did I get here?" It might also happen that her not so well mannered daughter in the back row is terrorizing her son who is screaming like a Banshee in the second row while their respective friends look on in delight. It might even be that there is another mother in the passenger seat who is probably thinking something like "Did she say she writes a blog about manners? Oh my, how ironic." But the well mannered mother drives on knowing that some day her children will be safely deposited at any wonderful boarding school that will take them. At that point she will miss these hectic times as she scoots around town in her Mini Cooper, alone with her thoughts and her music. Yeah right.

Don't Mind Me

These days there seems to be a growing number of individuals who believe the rules of polite, orderly society do not apply to them. No doubt Paris Hilton is somehow responsible. Well mannered mothers may wonder, what on earth makes people feel entitled to jump the post office line, scoot in front of you at the car service center, or usurp a sales person with “just a quick question” that turns out to be exactly the same sort of transaction the rest of the queue was waiting to perform? Prada boots? Tory tunic? Gucci bag? Because high fashion is no excuse for low behavior. In these and a myriad of other instances the best thing a polite person can say in a pleasant but firm voice is “Excuse me, you must not have realized that there are several people waiting, all of whom were here before you.” There is no guarantee that this will have any effect since the perpetrator is probably immune to such civility. However, you will feel better for having tried. Another common affront is the invasion of personal space in a situation where it is not acceptable. Obviously a subway or crowded elevator is one thing and the social norm is sardinesque. But in a restaurant or waiting at a counter when you have already made way for an encroaching individual once or twice you might try “I hope I am not in your way?” or “Do you have enough room?” Again such subtlety could easily be lost. And yet, the well mannered modern mother continues to fight the good fight against ridiculous entitled behavior. She knows that often the eyes of her young family are upon her and how she reacts in these situations will leave a lasting impression on her children. Plus these people are so annoying.