Skip to main content

Maplewood Moms

 One reason I like the current season of "You" is that the suburban satire feels accurate.


In a memorable scene, a new transplant bakes vegan cupcakes for a very picky eater.

But the eater becomes furious: "You fed sugar to my children! Raspberries have SUGAR! We are a no-fruit house!!!!!"

In my own town, people are upset because of an apparent theft of political signs.

"I'm sure it's just teenagers," wrote one snarky Maplewood Mom. "I mean, I can't imagine any of you adults are stealing the no-turf signs....."

A (possibly) defensive respondent ignored the snark and introduced a *new* topic: "It's not just the NO-TURF signs that are disappearing....It's the PRO-TURF signs, as well....."

Elsewhere, a pediatrician is under fire because she keeps some families waiting, and because her secretary has a brisk manner.

"I mean, my child could have been dying in that room.....and where is the apology?"

"The assistant asked for my ID, and when I couldn't produce it in two seconds....she looked like she wanted to kill me....."

My favorite stories concern a Black family who posted a sign--in the George Floyd weeks--that said...."Black People, Be Brave."

Certain liberal viewers became agitated. "The burden shouldn't be on Black People. It's White People who need to do the work. The sign should say: WHITE PEOPLE, BE BRAVE."

A rather logical participant asked: "If you don't like the sign, why not knock on the family's door and talk to them about the sign?"

This was met with derision. "That could lead to a misunderstanding.....and even violence!"

I believe the sign stayed up.

Recently, writers have turned their attention to Halloween: Do we still need "contact-free candy chutes" at this stage in the pandemic? When is "too early" for ringing doorbells? There is murmuring about a curfew? Is there a Halloween curfew? How do I signal that I'm just not home?

I'm tracking the answers, and: Guess what? Generally, they are not satisfying.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...
2 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more