In the past month, two things I posted on Facebook caused me real-life conflict. The first was hurtful to a sister and a close friend. The second caused me to leave a mommy group I quite enjoyed being part of.
Facebook is a balancing act for me. My Facebook friends include three of my four sisters (a long story), my parents, my former students, my principal and assistant principals, my coworkers, my husband’s college friends and their wives, as well as my former schoolmates.
Many of my updates are child-related. I try to be funny, but I have to watch my language and my subject matter. Writers consider their audience. When I post on Facebook, I am posting for married mothers of 1-7 children, single moms, childfree men and women, single dads, divorced people, teachers, students, one Israeli and one Palestinian, Republicans, Democrats, Christians, Atheists, Buddhists, Hindus, Sikhs, gays, bisexuals, those who do not wish to gender identify, Ron Paul enthusiasts, and Mormons.
Understandably, I stay away from religion and politics in my posts.
I got into a bit of trouble when I posted an article from Psychology Today which described research supporting my belief that allowing babies to “cry it out” is harmful to them. The issue inspires deep, passionate feelings and it’s a good one to stay away from in polite company. Something the youth of today have no concept of (I’m practicing being old in anticipation of my 40th next month).
Recently, the popular article to post and repost is titled, “Why French Parents are Superior” by Pamela Druckerman. It appeared in The Wall Street Journal. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204740904577196931457473816.html
Let me sum up: French women not only don’t get fat, they are better parents than me and you. They have excellent control over their petits enfants. They don’t say “no,” they say “NON!” in an authoritative tone, and it works. The article claims French children are well-behaved, self-sufficient, and obedient. These petits sit at the table quietly and eat their vegetables. They do not throw tantrums at playgrounds. They share their cigarettes.
I didn’t get offended. I didn’t get pissed off. I didn’t unfriend anyone. Yet, I still want to criticize the article. What is a good parent? If it is someone whose children are obedient, quiet, and vegetable-eating, then I agree that the French have succeeded where I have failed. My 33 month old throws tantrums, ignores me, argues with me, and refuses to eat almost everything. We don’t even have a table, much less do we sit at one and eat meals as a family. That’s what restaurants are for.
I think a successful parent cannot be gauged simply by the behavior of the children. Our job as parents isn’t done until our kids are grown. Are French adults more successful than Americans? Do they have better health? More successful relationships? Less addiction? Are they smarter? Happier? Do they shower daily?
The author gives some anecdotal evidence wherein she describes a French mother teaching her how to say “no.” What a beautiful story. Apparently, all I have to do is say “no” the right way, and Viva will obey me like a good little French girl. The author insists that French parents have excellent boundaries and they do not plead with nor negotiate with their children. There is what is possible, and what is “pas possible.” The French parents do not yield.
Unless their kids suddenly start speaking German.
Personally, I know someone who is both French and a father. His wife is American, but I think they have raised their daughter in a very “French way” and she has always been perfectly behaved. The five of us used to go out to breakfast or dinner about once a week, and she sat at the table with us, ate, and never once threw a tantrum or complained in any way. Nor did she need to be endlessly entertained or walked around. She was content to sit and eat her food while interacting with us or going into her own internal baby world.
I wasn’t a mom at the time, so I just assumed that babies were like that. Then I had my own, and restaurant trips became rare indeed. I came to believe that my friends’ French daughter was a special kind of baby who sat quietly in high chairs, and I just didn’t get that kind. Odie and I often remarked to each other how well-behaved this little girl was and what great parents our friends were.
I still believe that. I think that people can be great parents and have vastly different parenting styles. To say that one is “superior” to another depends on what you want the outcome to be. Who says children are supposed to sit still and be quiet while adults have conversations? Kids like to be included in what the adults are doing. My life is far more child-centered. When the kids go to day care or to sleep, then my life is my own. From a child’s point of view, I cannot think of anything more boring than sitting in a restaurant while grown-ups talk.
And how much can we really trust a society that thinks Jerry Lewis is a genius?
Dooce Divorce Devastation Part 2: Jon Talks
I’ve been following Jon Armstrong’s blog since he and Heather Dooce Armstrong split up. Today, he wrote that he will not publish any comments that discuss Heather and if anyone writes about her he will delete those comments because she “deserves” that. He is totally not in the petty backstabbing phase yet. If he believes there is still hope, then so can I.
Heather, please take Jon back. And if you won’t, then please explain why. I think you are making a huge mistake.
He admitted in another post that he didn’t want this separation. I feel for the guy, but that’s because I have read her blog for years and she seems like she’d be impossible to live with. Creative types often are. I’m not sure what comes first, the writing or the suicidal impulses, but the two frequently go together.
Medication helps, but mentally ill people are still challenging to have relationships with. I once dated with a man who had bipolar disorder (once called manic depression) who was also an alcoholic and an unemployed wake and baker. I initially typed “lived with a man who” but went back and changed it because I remembered that while he did move his stuff in, he moved it out again in the middle of the night while I was sleeping because “shit got too real” and he was convinced that I was trying to steal his favorite lamp. I had no interest in his stupid lamp, but that relationship was so messed up, when I finally broke it off, I DID steal his precious lamp. It’s actually in my garage right now.
Jon Armstrong has my sympathy, but at the same time, I have to wonder how bad he fucked up. Because it must be epic. This was not an “amicable” or “mutual” split. He had to have really screwed the pooch on this one. All he will say is that it’s hard to live with someone who doesn’t tell you you’ve been doing it wrong for years, and then when she finally tells you, it’s too late to fix it. He can’t mean banging someone else, because he’s just too smart to NOT know that counts as “doing it wrong.”
I find this so confusing because according to Dooce, the two of them have been going to therapy for years together. Dooce has praised her husband and openly loved him for years. I don’t get how this happened. Was she lying to us about how things really were?
I’ve noticed that many very successful and/or famous people do not stay with the partner they were with prior to that success and/or fame. But Dooce has been successful and famous for a long time now. The marriage had the outward appearance of surviving not only Heather’s mental illness, but also her career. Jon doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would begrudge Heather her success. He seems to really love and respect her.
There are two sides, though. No one knows what goes on in another person’s marriage. I have a friend who once told me that when she gets angry she name-calls, yells, and throws things. I would have never in a million years pegged her for a screamer nor prone to violence. She is the sweetest, most caring, giving woman I know. But her husband thinks she’s mean. I’m pretty open about my marriage here, but there is a lot you don’t know. Nor should you, because it’s private. One of my big struggles as a wife is that I come from a family where there is always a hidden agenda. So when Odie sits down and says about our daughter “I’ll bet she watches 20 hours a week of television” I hear “You are a shit mother. All you do is let our daughter watch television.” What he meant was “I am a shit father because I don’t do more fun stuff with my kid.” Or maybe he just meant she watches 20 hours a week of television.
For me, it would have to be something horrific for me to separate Odie from his girls. Like at least 24 hours a week of television. He loves them more than anything. If you had asked young single me how I felt about a future husband who loved our children more than me, I probably would have bristled. If I’m honest, it hurts a little bit. I’m slightly jealous. I’m also glad. When Viva says, “Daddy, will you play with me?” the answer is NEVER “No, honey, I have to work” or “I have to send emails” or “Sorry, baby, but Daddy’s busy.” The answer is always “YES! I would love to play with you. What are we playing?” It makes me love him even more that he’s so good with them.
What would it take for me to throw him out? I already put up with his shit. I’ve put up with his shit for almost ten years. His shit is TIRESOME. The qualities and characteristics that counterbalance his shit are magnificent.
Plus, he puts up with my shit. And my shit is TIRESOME.
Infidelity? It would ruin our marriage. I’m not saying it wouldn’t. But would it separate him from his kids? It depends. The world isn’t as black and white as I once thought. I always thought it would be him cheating on me, and not the other way around. All of a sudden, forgiveness seems like the way to go in that situation, you know?
On her blog, Heather got real mad. She spelled out “jerk” with alphabet blocks and balanced them on the head of her dog and took a picture. She said that she is so healthy that her therapist pronounced her cured and may even be moonwalking with joy and approval as I sit here typing. I have two family members who are therapists. They only moonwalk for the super sane ones.
Heather is tired of reading all the negative shit out there and wants to say “fuck you” to all of you. I don’t say “us” because I’m not sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for her to have a breakdown like the rest of them. People who hate her are legion and they are all salivating over her suffering. People are just like that.
I will say this. Girl needs to come clean. Jon loved her and stuck by her through hell and back by her own account. I read her book. He brought their infant to the mental hospital to visit her every day. And when she got out, he didn’t divorce her and take their kid. He stuck by her. He kept his vows.
When she was better and they had built her business together, they had a second daughter. I’ll bet they were both terrified. I didn’t follow her blog faithfully, so I don’t know how things went after baby #2, but I know she didn’t wind up in the looney bin that time. They bought her dream home. A home so big, they needed cell phones provided by sponsor Verizon just to keep in touch with each other inside their home. Not, it turns out, big enough for the two of them.
When Heather got attacked for blogging about her “life changing” trip to Bangladesh, Jon wrote passionately and eloquently to defend her. His love and respect for her shine through in his writing. There is no undertone of resentment or irony. Now, he sounds hurt but optimistic. He defends her. He clearly still loves her.
So, what is the story? Why does a handsome, tall, fit, smart, funny, supportive man get thrown out of his home and separated from his wife and children?
We’re waiting…
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