Message to Toddlers: Manners Matter

Yes, I know what you're thinking "Good Luck Lady". Well, I have all of these unrealistic memories of being well mannered from earliest childhood. I believe as an infant, my amazing parents had me saying please and thank you and holding open doors for others before passing through myself. Therefore, I determined to set my sites high. I believe, in general, that children will rise to meet your expectations and, with that in mind, I launched on a full scale effort to finish school my children right here at home and right now.

Like a lot of good things, our lessons in manners are meal centered. My kids are open to all kinds of suggestions when weakened with hunger. I require the word "please" to be spoken as part of a sentence when food/drink requests are made. Claire, clever girl, has developed a very short and convenient catch-all sentence "Yes please". I am sorry to report compromise won a round. Okay fine, I thought. A little yes please would have me leaping to attention to serve. But then, two nights ago, I came to my senses. We had guests over and Claire said to me "Mommy, juice???" She really says these demands so sweetly and with a long, questioning end tone that it usually fools me for a second. I hustled to the kitchen and was nearly to the refrigerator when I realized I'd been tricked. I turned and faced her "that is not how you ask" and then continued to walk away. She hustled after me "MOMMY!" I stopped expectantly waiting. She turned back toward the door and said dismissively over her shoulder "yes please." Oh wait ONE RED SECOND. THAT was not what I had in mind when I was aiming for manners. It occurred to me that what I really want is for my children to ask sweetly (and include the word 'please' in a grammatically correct way) because I just might say NO.

Now I say NO all the time. ALLLLL the time ALLLLL day long. But they know I can't resist feeding and watering them so food/drink requests are delivered with the smug assurance of success. Yesterday, in an effort to reestablish myself as mean alpha mom, I told Claire that from then on, if she didn't say please, the answer would be no. I only remembered I told her that just now, so I am guessing she's been ordering me around ever since without me even noticing.

I bought a book "How to Raise a Lady", written by some snotty woman who probably has no children. It is published by Brooks Brothers so I should have known to not expect a hands on guide. The first chapter ends with a section titled "Your Daughter is Becoming a Young Lady if ..." with a long list of ifs that would bring sinister laughter to my child's mouth if she knew. The third item "She always knocks on a closed door, particularly one that leads to a bathroom or bedroom." Hmm. As I read this, I suffered a collage style flashback of times I've been "caught with my pants down", and let out a chuckle. Oh boy. Claire barges in and then says in an accusing voice "Mommmmmyyyy, what are you doooooinggggg?" I SHOULD say "go back outside, close the door and knock." but instead I give her honest answers "peeing" or "clipping my toenails" or "plucking out creepy random beard hairs". Well no more! You may ask "why not lock the door?". That just tells me that you are either not a mom or you are a bad mom. What if I fell in the bathroom and was unconscious on the floor while my babies wail at me from outside a closed door "Moooooommmmmmeeeeeeeee". No, I'd rather they discover my bloody body themselves. I really think things through like this.

On to another gem on the you-know-she's-becoming-a-lady-if list "If she is wearing a cap, beret (oh please) or hat, she removes the headgear when she sits down to eat at a table at home or in a restaurant." It then adds helpfully "a kerchief is not officially a hat, and need not be removed". The only reasonable response to a book like this is to throw it away.

I will close with a recap of our very rude morning. We went to playgroup at my friend Li's house. Li works full time, so couldn't actually be there to host. Instead, she arranged for her poor mother and angelic friend, Grace, to be there. I'll keep this short because I am still working through the emotions. Claire and Ava got enormously attached to a jack in the box toy and were taking turns hitting each other with it to determine who would play with it first. Grace came over to assist and Claire, detecting Grace's generous nature, flew into a rage (tantrum) which began its decline only as I dragged both girls out to the car to go home. Claire then threw up and somehow Grace (I was and am mortified) ended up mopping up the worst of it and waved at us as we drove away. I was so angry with Claire. During the ten minute drive home, I contemplated the pros and cons of forgiving her. Or not. I forced myself to be civil and her sweet repeated statement "Mommy, was I very naughty?" was answered through my clenched teeth. I peppered my terse language with threats to never ever take her anywhere again and to throw up on HER the next time I am not feeling well. I decided, on the drive home, to send Grace flowers. I am still cooling off.