The Jury Has Reached a Verdict on Manners
It was a Monday in early April. I had just gotten my second (trimester) wind, which is a kinda like that first good day after a terrible flu. I was ready to conquer the world, or at least our messy apartment. I took even greater satisfaction in my highly productive domestic spree because I knew it would be a nice surprise for Dan, who really dreaded going to work that morning. I systematically attacked the dirty dishes and laundry mountain, taking breaks in between to clean the bathroom and vacuum the rugs. I mailed stuff, made annoying phone calls, picked up groceries and even made dinner (a task I had avoided as much as possible during those "I hate food" first trimester days). Our spotless abode and thoroughly checked to-do list made a lovely homecoming for Dan, indeed.
Since I'd bothered to clear the book and paper piles off the dining room table, I even set it for dinner. How nice, for a change, to look at each other instead of Alex Trebek as we digested our meal! When I finally sat down and laid my napkin upon my lap, I felt so contented. I looked at my husband and said, "I love you, Dan," which I'm apt to say any time (even while staring at Alex Trebek), but the moment deserved special recognition.
Dan looked up from his plate. "Even though I'm sitting here without a shirt, eating salad with my fingers?"
I laughed and said, "Yes!" but a little bug gnawed at my sense of mellow. I tried to let it go, as I had the couple other times that bug had made an unwelcome appearance. But I knew I couldn't let it go forever, and it seemed as good a time as any to embrace the issue. "Dan, I know how you feel about manners. That they're kind of dumb. I get that. And I respect that. But I want to teach our kid manners. But I don't want you to change. Or, at least, I don't think it's reasonable to expect that. So, what I'm thinking is that you can just be who you are, and I'll tell our kid to be like me and not be like you."
I couldn't help cracking up laughing, but I was worried I may have hurt his feelings. What a relief when he just nodded thoughtfully and said, "That's fair."
"I'm working on a couple lines like, 'Your father has cultivated a certain charm that allows him to get away with this stuff. Until you have that charm, you need to act like me.' Or something to that effect." He enjoyed that.
A good discussion on manners followed. As Dan noted, it is easier to pick up salad with your fingers than to use a fork. I agreed; good manners aren't about efficiency. It isn't even necessarily about being courteous to present company, for truly, I wouldn't have noticed he was using his fingers if he hadn't made a point of it. I guess it's mostly about practicing your politeness for the benefit of strangers. There's an excellent chance you could encounter someone who finds vinaigrette-coated fingers disgusting. And honestly, if I saw a shirtless dude manhandling salad at a restaurant (which Dan would never do), I'd be somewhat repulsed. As you get to know a person better and feel more relaxed in their presence, these things become less bothersome. Relinquishing manners can even be a rite of passage in a relationship, like the first time you fart in front of someone you're dating. It's when you know that you're totally cool with that person. I think that bond ought to be rare.
But how's a small child supposed to know the difference between private and public decorum? I guess you help them practice for the latter by setting a good example in the former. I'm hoping we can get our kid understand the difference between the two, or at least ourselves. Maybe? I don't know. I guess we'll find out. If nothing else, we have a preliminary plan and laughs to back us up.
*There are enough of those already. Also, I'm allergic to focus. I don't know enough about any one thing to have a blog dedicated to a single topic. I suppose this limits the potential size of my audience, and that's okay.
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