Some Wisdom From Those That Walked Before Us (Or Why I’m Smitten With Lucia van der Post)

Some Wisdom From Those That Walked Before Us (Or Why I’m Smitten With Lucia van der Post)

 by JOSLYN TAYLOR in ENRICH Jan 10th, 2013 11:13am 0 Comments Share Post

I was perusing Dallas mom Paige Darrah’s fantastically honest and funny blog Poppy Adventures this morning when I came across this post about Lucia van der Post’s (the lovely lady pictured right) bookThings I Wish My Mother Had Told Me.

Now let me pause to say that I am 100% with Paige when she says, “Whenever I come across a confident, intelligent, well-put-together older women I usually consider asking her to come home with me and teach me things.”

I am a big believer in the wisdom of those that walked before me, those who (pardon my vulgarity) have their S%$T together because they no longer care so much about what other people think of them, those who have some real wisdom to share about husbands/children/home/career/lipstick (you know, the important stuff), because they’ve slogged through the mire and lived to talk about it.

Here’s a more of what Paige has to say about van der Post’s book:

“I am trying to prepare myself to be an inspiring mother. But how does one do that?

Well, I thought that I’d start by being the kind of mother who knows some of the secrets. It seems that Lucia van der Post, the woman who wrote Things I Wish My Mother Had Told Me, knows a lot of the secrets.

This woman has an enviable amount of conviction about how to behave – from the trivial, to the logistical, to the genuinely important. Her book offers guidance from all three of these categories. Much (but not all) of what she wrote resonated with me, so I’ll start with that which addresses the importance of family mealtime:

‘Families that sit around tables enjoying evening suppers that have been properly cooked and served tend to be closer and warmer than those who sit perched in front of the television set with fast food or takeout, not talking, not communicating. Families gathered around a table build up memories of intimacy and warmth that last throughout one’s life.’

In the evening, perhaps as I’m arranging the to-go food or the dining-in meal onto proper plates, I’ll ask Matt the following question: Are we going to be civil or American tonight?”

You can read the rest of her post here and buy a copy of Things I Wish My Mother Had Told Me here (which is exactly what I just did). Thanks Paige.

Dear Abby: Bye Bye

Dear Abby:  I heard that you died last week, is this true?      -P.D. in Dallas, Texas

Dear P.D.: __________________ .

Dear Abby: Our son married a girl when he was in the service. They were married in February and she had an 8 1/2-pound baby girl in August. She said the baby was premature. Can an 8 1/2-pound baby be this premature? — Wanting to Know

Dear Wanting: The baby was on time. The wedding was late. Forget it.




Dear Abby: I have always wanted to have my family history traced, but I can’t afford to spend a lot of money to do it. Have you any suggestions? — M. J. B. in Oakland, Calif.

Dear M. J. B.: Yes. Run for a public office.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/18/business/media/pauline-phillips-flinty-adviser-to-millions-as-dear-abby-dies-at-94.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0



I highly recommend this compilation of her work; she even has a chapter devoted to the complaints she received about snoring spouses (which apparently amounted to many thousands of letters).

http://www.amazon.com/The-Best-Dear-Abby-ebook/dp/B003XYE6LY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1358805369&sr=8-1&keywords=the+best+of+dear+abby

Poppy's Second Semester of Music Together

It's difficult to summon the leagues of enthusiasm required, but Poppy O. needs to begin enhancing her social and motor skills (and by that I of course mean that she needs to begin carving her Curriculum Vitae).  All any of us mommies want (with regards to our children) is for them to have intelligence, a well-adjusted demeanor, and an acceptance letter from the University of our choice*.  That's not too much to ask - but it does mean that I must again summon the enthusiasm to sing children's songs while dancing and twirling around at Tiferet Israel.

During the first class of the semester Ms. Gila shared a Music Together success story with the group: the first 3 year old to ever be admitted to Mensa was indeed a MT student.  This anecdote was quickly followed with the instruction to 'not make this our goal'.

It was only later that I found out that Mensa is a club for geniuses.  If you have to ask what it is, non of your offspring are eligible.

They're doing a bit of renovation at the primary entrance to the temple, so it's now necessary to use an alternative entrance.  This alternative entrance is closer to the main....oh what's it called......let's just call it the 'main adult worship chamber'.    

While walking to the MT classroom Poppy and I saw the following box next to the main adult worship chamber:

Which resulted in the following:

'i consider this to be only mildly disrespectful.'

My first words to Ms. Gila this semester were:

me:  'Poppy stole a yarmulke.'

(which Ms. Gila, being the professional that she is, chose to ignore)  

'Music is language'
-Ms. Gila

http://MusicTogetherDallas.com/






*oh yea, and we also want them to be happy.  

Pop-Tart Nomenclature

tasty

I consulted my sister about this nickname before Poppy was born.  Keep in mind that she lives in Colorado and has an alleged allergy to Gluten:

me: 'Matt and I have been discussing nicknames.  What do you think about 'Pop-Tart'?

Leslie: 'I like it.'

me: 'No really, you can tell me what you really think.  That's why I'm asking you.  I won't be offended if you don't like it.'

Leslie: 'Well...it's just that....I can't imagine my niece wanting to be likened to such an unhealthy snack.'

I consider this point for a few moments.

me: 'Well, sure, that's actually a good point.  What about 'Organic Pop-Tart'?

Leslie: 'Perfect.'


Jerry Seinfeld likes Pop-Tarts and has thought about them a lot.  He remembers when there was only toast.  Here's an excerpt from his recent discussion with the New York Times:

'How did they know that there would be a need for a frosted, fruit filled, heatable rectangle in the same shape as the box it came in and with the same nutrition as the box it came in?'

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/23/magazine/jerry-seinfeld-intends-to-die-standing-up.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

Brett Paesel's Angsty Memoir

Mommies Who Drink is Brett Paesel's 2006 memoir.  She's a TV writer who has written for shows on HBO, Comedy Central, Oxygen, etc..  As an actress, she has had insignificant roles in significant television programs like Six Feet Under, Curb Your Enthusiasm and Gilmore Girls.  She also writes for the New York Times...sometimes.  But these things aren't what initially drew me to her book, it was this awesome book jacket.  I bought Mommies Who Drink while I was pregnant; and I’m willing to admit here that I treated my pregnancy as an independent research project.  Perhaps I was inspired by that shiny, supple, slender woman with the lampshade head.

I had been feeling bombarded with people and literature (including, but not limited to, articles from The Bump) conveying to me variations of the following:  my new name will be ‘Poppy’s Mom’; I will no longer be interested in going to graduate school; I will never again have time to read the NY Times....ever. 

For me, this thing was unrealistic.  The alleged impending transformation was the unrealistic part.

This woman, Brett, offered a welcome contrast.  She doesn’t take things too seriously.  That isn’t to say that she shirks her motherly duties, quite the contrary.  She’s concerned about getting her child into good schools, and she’s a committed TV nazi (no non-educational programming for this lady’s offspring) but she doesn’t let the fact that she’s a mother take over her identity. 

The first half of the book talks a lot about people in groups:

‘Yes, I think, it’s something about groups. Something that dulls the active mind and subdues the eager heart.’  

This aversion doesn't stop Brett from attempting the occasional playdate in the chapter entitled ‘Mommy Groups and Me’.  Her playdate participation is in vain hope that the new mothers in attendance are in search of the same thing she is: adult conversation, a safe place for the baby to roam, and booze.

After a few attempts she ultimately describes her mommy peers as ‘sinking to their most boring common denominator’in the playdate setting.  I wouldn't know because I have yet to do the playdate thing with Poppy; and I imagine that playdates in California are different than playdates in Dallas.  But perhaps some relevance shines through.  To be determined-

The following summary of Brett’s chapter entitled ‘Parental Guru to the Stars’ illustrates one of the many reasons why I dislike California:

Brett is at a prenatal yoga class given by Cindy Crawford’s personal yoga guru.  The guru requests that the forty or so women share with the group their names, their doctor’s names, and where they are planning to give birth.  Whenever one of the women announces that she’s having a home birth (like Cindy did), the rest of the group turns to her en masse to convey hazy looks of endorsement while the guru mutters ‘Home Birth’ approvingly.  One of these pregnant women offers up her previous birthing plan gone right as motivation for her quasi-yogi peers: 'My last home birth, during which I was in labor for thirty-two hours, I managed the pain by chanting and making a gorgeous daisy chain that now encircles my garden.'

I have friends who are into this at-home drug-free birthing bit and I must say that I have yet to understand the appeal.  It's like they want the Girl Scout badge for ‘Most Painful Birth’.  I might understand this practice if the badge gave your child some extra IQ points, or if it gave you some sort of edge in parenting prowess.

I’ll leave you with this funny scene where Brett and her OBGYN are discussing the method of delivery for her second child (who's in the oven).  Having already had one C-section, Brett's doctor has just finished explaining some of the risks associated with trying for a vaginal delivery (VBAC):

Brett:  ‘That’s okay, I’ll take the C-section, I think.’

OBGYN:  ‘You’ll probably want to go over your options with Pat.’

Brett thinks to herself:  C-section is fine.

The OBGYN continues:  “If you decided on the C-section . . .’

Brett thinks to herself:  C-section, yes, that’s the one I want.

OBGYN:  ‘. . . we’d schedule it a week earlier than your due date.’

Brett:  “A week earlier...”

OBGYN:  “Yes.”

Brett:  “I’ll take the C-section.”

OBGYN:  ‘But, a lot of women really want to go for a vaginal birth. It’s important to them.  Me, I’m not really into vaginal heroics.’

Personally, I recommend the audiobook.  It’s read by the author whose voice reminds me of a comically apathetic cartoon character-

The Pop-Tart Doesn't Like Real Food

Poppy doesn't like real food. Of course, by 'real food' I mean puréed fruits and vegetables.  So not real real food, but we're getting closer.  Or at least we should be getting closer.  The problem is that when I try to feed Poppy anything non-liquid she makes her distinctive frowny face and closes her lips tightly.  So what should be mealtime turns into a messtime.  It's a bit discouraging, and I'm ashamed to admit that I have taken to just having the babysitters feed her her real-ish food.  Poppy only gets babysat about once per week these days, which means that she may be drinking formula until she's 12.

'me only eat bottles'