Sunday, November 05, 2006

I stumbled across this book in a store, and as I was already buying a bunch of stuff that was not, strictly speaking, absolutely necessary, I did not toss this one into the cart. However, the concept has been haunting me, and I find myself wishing that I had written this book.

Or, at least, wishing I had written the book that I want this one to be. It appears, from this introductory excerpt, to actually be a self-help parenting guide; one which truly believes that adults have a right to their adult space even when raising children.

Which is probably a more valuable book than the one the I want to read. What I want is the book that Dorothy Parker and Fran Liebowitz would have written. The book that looks frankly at the huge job of parenting, and then advises vodka as the first line of defense. I want to read someone who is witty, so that when I feel pulled under from all the family demands, at least I know I am not alone. If that wetty someone is willing to exaggerate and represent herself as downright neglectful, I can feel like I am a better parent than I think I am.

After all, don't you really want to live by the rule: "Take care of luxuries and the necessities will take care of themselves?" Goodness knows that there are entire days, weeks, months, years even, where the only response to the cry of "Mama" is Parker's stock response to the telephone ringing: "What fresh hell is this?"

And wouldn't raising a family be less psychically taxing if you could simply approach discipline with an attitude like Fran Liebowitz's: "No animal should ever jump up on the dining room furniture unless absolutely certain that he can hold his own in the conversation."

So, I have in my imagineation the Platonic ideal of the "Three Martini Playdate" which is not a guide to easing parental guilt over taking time away from children. I want to see what it would look like to be completely amoral about maintaining one's pre-child life. That would be a delightful book to read, and wouldn't we all appreciate the opportunity to feel smugly superior?

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