Please Excuse the Brattling

After stumbling across That Should Be a Word, in the most recent New York Times magazine, a modern mother might feel a mixture of amusement, curiosity and chagrin. The column offers three neologisms: (1) brattle (to discuss one’s children at length), (2) spamily (Facebook or Twitter updates about kids) and (3) spawntourage (a group of approaching strollers). All these terms are admittedly funny. Who hasn’t had to pinch herself to stay awake through a fellow parent's enumeration of nap schedules and dietary preferences? Who hasn’t scrolled right by the Facebook photos of a college acquaintance’s children? Who hasn't felt pushed aside by multiple strollers spanning a narrow sidewalk?

The modern mother snickers, but she might also frown at the tinge of hostility towards children and families. Are there really people out there who roll their eyes at the sight of several strollers passing? Who are these anti-children people? Do they sit around in cafes smoking, writing screenplays, and snarling at passing infants? Do they wear berets? Trucker hats? Do they have bushy hipster beards? Do they all live in Manhattan? (Because, last we heard Brooklyn had been taken over by young families, come to think of it, Manhattan too.)

Whatever the authors of these neologisms are like, wherever they live, anti-child sentiments are not frequently visible in the suburban enclaves inhabited by this modern mother. Perhaps that's a good thing. Or possibly not.

Being cocooned in a child-centric culture just might leave many parents vulnerable to the impression that their darlings are universally adored and admired. Could it give modern parents the idea that it’s appropriate to bring children to any and all events? Does it leave some parents unaware of the possibility that the view of a toddler smearing his dinner across table linens might detract from another diner’s fine dining experience? Or worse.

Perhaps it is just such cluelessness that has incited any child-hostile sentiments lurking in the child-free majority. So, thank you, New York Times, for that little bit of humor and that small reality check to parents out there. Or at least the ones who have the time to read the Sunday magazine.

Toddler Nation

The war is over and those on the side of glamor, sophistication and adulthood have lost.  You may, dear readers, have varied reactions to this news.  The first being, "How do you know?"    Secondly, "Is this such a bad thing?" or thirdly "Viva the revolution!  Down with the ageist separation between adults and children.  Elmo for everyone - put the sippy cup next to the Macallen 17.   Let's push on through til' midnight listening to senseless toddler prattle and the Velvet Underground. "

As for the how do you know - this is a most indelicate story and those of you prone to squeamishness might want to skip to the next paragraph.  The facts, as unbelievable as they are, are these: the modern mother had taken the modern father out to a very nice wood-paneled steak restaurant in Boston for his birthday dinner.   So, the tone  was festive - jacket no tie, dress and heels, linger over each course, make the most of a nice evening out.  Around 9pm the lady of the couple excused herself to freshen her lipstick in the ladies' room.   You can imagine her shock upon entering the lounge to hear a screaming toddler and a mother loudly and repeatedly urging the young person to "push those poopies out."  This diatribe went on for all to hear for the short time the modern mother was there and possibly long into the night.  (!!!!!!) Now, obviously biology is venue indifferent and when you have to go you have to go.  But if the young person was home in bed where she belonged it might have been a much better evening for parent, child and innocent victims alike.  Needless to say, this episode was something of a "buzz kill" for the modern mother.  She has sadly come to expect such behavior in many, many places (library, aquarium, playgroup, coffee houses) but somehow in such an elegant setting this was all so very wrong. 

Now the true libertarian will say, if these parents want to to take their child out for a $100 meal on a Saturday night at 9pm that is their right.  After all we wouldn't want to children to think they are second-class citizens.  Brilliant.  In that case let's give them licenses, voting rights, draft cards and firearms.

Forget the smoking and trans-fats bans in public restaurants, this author wants a toddler ban or at a minimum a 7pm  curfew for all people under 13.

Thank you.

Barbarians at the Plate

As discussed previously, passable table manners in children are not achieved without tremendous effort. Thus, when the well mannered modern mother is at last ready to introduce her little dears to the world of out-of-the-home dining the last thing she needs is the Visigoths charging into the Forum leaving a trail of carnage and destruction in their wake. In other words, as a delightfully well mannered friend recently asked 'What can you do when you have taken your generally well behaved children out to eat with another family only to discover that their progeny are not even acquainted with the basics of civilized dining?' While obviously making a mental note to “never do this again” the well mannered mother still needs to get through the next 45 minutes. Or not. In such a case the well mannered no-nonsense-mother has every right to give her own children two very clear warnings and at the third offense bundle them home (paying the bill whether her food has arrived or not) to a dinner of pb&j.

If she chooses to remain and fight the good fight she should focus on the basics - keeping her children seated and speaking at a reasonable volume. The exception, of course, is al fresco dining in which case they are welcome to play on the lawn before and after the meal arrives. Assuming there is no fresco and the other children are tearing around the restaurant, making inappropriate noises, throwing rolls, putting straws up their noses and quoting the Black Eyed Peas while the other mother is sipping her slow gin fizz studiously ignoring her terrific children – what then? In such a scenario the well mannered mother can hardly expect her children to be impervious to such wild temptation. Instead of shrieking like a Harpy or getting into it with her 'friend' the best a well mannered mother can probably do is quietly remind her children what is expected of them and point out that there are other people in the restaurant trying to have a nice dinner. The sirens’ call of dessert might also have some effect. Other than that, breathe, have a glass of prosecco and promise yourself you will never ever, ever go out to dinner with those children again. As for your own children, remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day and you should have them back in shape in a month or two.

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.