Old-School Mum Betty Draper: Why We Love Her

(For Stacy)
I’ve recently become addicted to the TV show Mad Men. Nerdy, I know. In fact, I can almost hear you uttering ‘get a life’ under your breath right now. But when the summer TV doldrums hit, I went to the video store and innocently enough hired the first ‘Season One’ dvd and I was hooked. However, it wasn’t the antics of the Pee-Wee Herman Pete character, or Christina Hendrick’s admirable-even-if-you’re-a-woman cleavage or even the dashingly handsome Alpha male Don Draper that kept me hooked; it’s his long-suffering wife Betty. And I continued watching in the name of research and in hope of gaining some insight into parenting like its 1960. Here’s what I’ve learned, thanks to Betty Draper.

1. Sending the kids off to watch TV is okay. Wouldn’t it be good to have lived in the era when TV was the latest, greatest invention and there was not yet in existence a library full of research about the detrimental effects of too much time in front of it? There is more than one occasion when Betty orders the kids to ‘just go and watch the TV’. Ok, so her marriage was having some problems and maybe she just needed some ‘me’ time. But since this was pre-Sesame Street days, it means the kids were probably watching soaps. Therefore, we can stop feeling bad about letting our children watch TV shows that have been designed by a fleet of early education experts and actually make an effort to teach something. So there. Now go put on Dora and read your magazine.


2. Don’t fret over the kids’ nutrition. From what I’ve gathered from my close watching, Betty seems to dish up mostly meat and three veg with some convenient food mixed in: fluffernutter on Wonderbread, mac and cheese. Fretting over what our kids will and won’t eat has become an overly-inflated concern of the worried well. How many times have you been at the playground and overheard some yummy mummy yabbering away on her iPhone something along the lines of ‘I just can’t get Ethan to eat soy burgers OR brussel sprouts. I’m so worried I called my nutritionist today…’? Or ‘I can’t bear to even think of letting Jayden/Brayden/Hayden have anything with red food colouring/xanthum gum/preservative 21 until he’s at least seventeen.’ Well ladies, according to Dr. T. Berry Brazelton, here are the daily nutritional requirements for a toddler: 2 cups of milk or its equivalent in cheese, yoghurt or (LOVE this one!) ice cream; 2 oz. of protein (meat or egg) or iron-fortified cereal; 1 oz of orange juice or fresh fruit; 1 multi-vitamin, to cover for uneaten veggies. One ounce! Rest easy, mamas. Here’s my three-prong nutritional advice, and I think Betty would agree: worry if your kid’s in Haiti right now. Make them eat everything they should first – and I mean make ‘em. Don’t let them eat too much processed stuff. The end.

3. Her house is not overrun by toys. There are no toys visible in the Draper household. I did see Don building a cubby house and drinking 87 beers in one episode and this was the era when it was still considered safe to let your kids play outside mostly unsupervised. But the only toy I’ve seen on the show is Bobby’s robot, which Don later throws against the wall and breaks. People just didn’t have as much stuff back in 1960 and that includes toys – and you know what? They didn’t miss it. This should be a reminder to all of us that just because stuff is cheap doesn’t mean we need to fill our houses up with it. Pass up that bargain next time.


4. Teaching your children their way around a drinks cart is okay. Betty knows the secret to successful entertaining is keeping everyone liquored up. While you’re busy with kitchen duties, mother’s helper can be mixing the drinks. After all, nothing is more fun when you’re eight than a pressurised bottle of soda water. (Is it any wonder that as a society, our interest in food has risen now that we can’t drink as much? We used to get too drunk before the food was served to care what it tasted like – but now we need our tower of fig and gorgonzola lasagne with a burnt ashtray reduction. Although this was a golden era of ignorance and denial, there is a lot to be said for a good stiff Manhattan to whet the appetite – and dull the tastebuds. Betty knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, especially when it’s gin-soaked.) The point is, as Betty knows, it’s okay to have your kids be a part of the entertaining duties, only now with trays of canapes instead of Old-Fashioneds. It gives them a sense of responsibility and makes them feel a part of the action. One caveat – just make sure they know when it’s time to go to bed: an overly precocious child is never a substitute for good adult conversation.


5. Uses line ‘Wait till your father gets home!’ Ok, so I don’t use this one. This is a little old-school even for me. My justice is swift, a la the hand. But it shows that Betty and Don are a united front. Even if they fight about how they discipline the children, which they do in one episode, at least the kids think both their parents are playing on the same team. Very important, since most kids work out the old ‘divide and conquer’ approach sometime during their second year of life.


6. Allow yourself some ‘me’ time. Wine with dinner. Riding lessons. Lunch with the ladies. Ok, so once again, Betty has the advantage because she was just on the tail end of the era when (white) people still employed domestics to help them. (Try springing this one on your man the next time complains about how good the Don Drapers of the world had it back then. Make sure to add that he doesn’t have the same smouldering good looks either.) Make some time for yourself, even if it means you have to lock yourself in the toilet to read your People magazine once a week. This is a hard one for a lot of us, but we need it. Husbands, are you listening? Our pedicures are not frivolous and indulgent, they are necessary in order to prevent us from killing either you or your offspring. Now do you get it? Me Time is the secret to Betty looking so fresh - that, and the 37 relaxing cigarettes she sucks down each day.


7. Look nice for your man. Even though in Betty’s case he’s a cheating bastard, she still loves him. But that's another discussion. Most importantly, look nice for yourself. We can’t all do this everyday. But you will feel like you’re doing a more worthwhile job this way – and being a mother is a more important job than that of any CEO considering your product is another human being. I’m not suggesting combing through second hand shops for Doris Day dresses and aprons, but make a little effort. Yes, you can stay in your sweatpants all day because no one sees you. But don’t. As Jerry Seinfeld once had to remind George, sweatpants say to the world that you have given up on life. Now go put some lipstick on.

8. She knows how to deliver a good bitch slap. Seriously, how many times have we wanted to do this to someone, someone who insulted your abilities as a mother? In other words, someone who no doubt deserved it with a capital ‘D’. Having the looks and class of Grace Kelly means she didn’t even come over all ‘Springer.’ What more can I say? Betty Draper, Old-School Mum, we love you!

The Great Black Hole of Kindergarten

Although my brain still says Groundhog Day and Black History Month, here in the southern hemisphere February means back to school time. And this year, we hit the big time: big school. Full. Day. Kindergarten. And can I just say ‘WOOOOOOO-HOOOOOO!’? I no longer have three at home. I made it. I survived.

Let me tell you, it has been no small feat having full-time responsibility for a diva, as any of Naomi Cambell’s handlers will gladly confirm. Eva was and continues to be the most work of my three children. This had been something I thought would subside as she aged and matured (read = ‘mellowed’); but this is not to be. This past year in the run up to school has been a lot about my acceptance of who she is – I was reluctant to realise that some of the traits she has I cannot punish, beat or time-out out of her. She is her own woman already. So the give and take continues.

The first day of school was a day that seemed to forever loom large and far away and I was as keenly aware of it as a man on death row is of his doomsday. However, unlike that man on death row, my counting down was in no way melancholy, or full of sorrow, regret, or any of those other therapy-inducing emotions. Oh no. Mine was pure excited anticipation, as was hers. I was ready and more importantly, so was she.

I remember my own first day of kindergarten. I had no nerves and was excited. When I got there and I saw kids screaming, clutching mom’s legs, my antennae went up: what did they know that I didn’t? Why the tears? And for Eva and I, it wasn’t nearly as emotional as it is for some. In the lead up and even on the actual day, I kept waiting to feel wistful or have that ‘It’s the end of an era’ feeling wash over me. But it didn’t. In fact it was so easy that I almost started to feel a little guilty that I wasn’t sad or it wasn’t more difficult for one of us to let go. But all I felt was relief – and no one had prepared me for that.

Now, three weeks in, I realise that I also wasn’t prepared for how shut out I am from her secret school life – and maybe that’s why I didn’t know to be sad. Without going all cheeseball Hallmark card, it really is the first letting go milestone. And as I’ve quickly discovered, I also cannot be there to solve every problem, fight every battle, supply every answer.

With preschool, although I wasn’t there, I would come at the end of the day and have a look in the giant book the teachers had pieced together during the day: ‘Today we discussed fairies. We drew pictures of fairy homes. Sally asked, “What do fairies like to eat?”’ etc. Plenty of material there. I had inroads. I had discussion starters.

Now? Well, now I got nothin’. All that’s in my arsenal of questions is ‘How was school today?’ You can guess the answer to that one. My other question is, ‘What did you do in school today?’ Here are some actual discussions (or not) about the goings-on from our first few weeks.

Day One
Me: How was it?! Was it fun?
Eva: It was the best day EVER!
(We have nowhere to go but down…)

Day Two
Me: How was it?! Was it fun? How’s your teacher?
Eva: She’s nice. Her name is MRS. Lawlor. Mum, mum, you CAN’T just call her ‘LAWLOR’, okay?!? It’s MRS. LAWLOR.
Me: Yes, because I often make a habit of calling people solely by their last names. A hangover from my years as an Army staff sergeant. Thanks for bringing that to my attention before I embarrassed myself. How did I ever get on in life without your sage instruction?

Day Three
Me: How was your day?
Ted: We had a doughnut!
Eva: A DOUGHNUT?!?! AAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Me: Oh for God's sake! It’s not a pony we’re talking about. (Note to self – do not mention any ‘fun’ activities from our secret life.)

Day Five
Me: So…How was it? What did you do today?
Eva: I played with the Play-dough.
Me: For six hours?
Eva: No…and the tea set!
Me: And what about the other 5 hours and 22 minutes of the day?

Day Nine
Me: So…what did you do today? Did you do any of your letters?
Eva: No. I don’t know. We just did some numbers, OKAY? (In that perfected, 15-year-old, ‘I’m just telling you this to shut you up’ tone of voice)

Day Twelve
Me: So, how was your day?!
Eva: [Exasperated] I don’t want to talk about it. (With the snippy disappointment in her voice to indicate that she was actually talking about blowing her call-back audition for the starring role in the latest Andrew Lloyd Webber musical)

I’m stonewalled. And fascinated. How do they actually teach them to read or add or anything else for that matter? And, for the sake of pure curiosity, how does one even manage to keep 27 five-year olds entertained for six whole hours? It’s all shrouded in mystery.

When my kids were all babies together and I was bleary-eyed with cracked nipples, there were always those completely insensitive but well-intentioned older ladies (who had clearly romanced their early years) who would say things like, ‘Don’t wish it away – these are the best years of your life!’ Three kids shitting in nappies who fight and bite, va-jayjay farts during my weekly yoga and preparing three dinners a night and this is the best I have to look forward to in my life? This would usually make me want to reach for my sharpened dagger and commit hara-kiri on the spot: this is as good as it’s ever going to get? People said that about high school too. And while I enjoyed high school, I wouldn’t say it’s ‘the best’ and I don’t want to go back. (Except maybe to be the-cool-chic-in-a-John-Hughes-film sorta way.)

And now, for all my anticipation – poof – it’s gone. For 30 hours a week she is someone else’s responsibility entirely. When you consider that there are 164 hours in a week, roughly half of which are spent asleep when you’re five, our time together has nearly been cut in half. And five has been a magic age. I feel like I just got her nice and it’s time to send her off into the world – a preview for the teen years, no doubt. So maybe when my next one goes off, I will be sad. I’ll let you know in two years, but in the meantime, I have go and set my countdown clock…

Tis the Season for Toy Recalls...

I got an email about the disastrous MacLaren stroller recall recently from one of those ‘helpful’ parenting websites. (For those of you who didn’t hear, there had been twelve – count ‘em TWELVE reports of fingertip amputations by infants who had gotten their fingers caught in the closing hinges. Why twelve before a recall?) The email also included a question something along the lines of ‘Which other safety recalled toys do YOU have in your home?’ or something equally alarmist. In the name of research I couldn’t resist having a look.

The list was rather boring. Which, in an odd way was disappointing. I’m not saying that I derive any sort of pleasure out of other people’s injuries – well, other than in the ‘Funniest Home Videos’ sort of way. But there is a certain amount of entertainment value in the seeing what went wrong.

Most of the things on the list were due to manufacturing and design flaws, eg, loose buttons or parts, cords, lead paint, parts that broke off too easily and the like. Nowadays toys are mostly recalled due to faulty manufacturing, not faulty ideas.

Let’s travel back in time to the 70s, when in the weeks following Christmas, toy recalls were in the top headlines on the nightly news as the post-holiday carnage was recounted:
Good Evening, I’m Kent Kennerson and here are today’s top stories. Reports of injuries from Mattel’s top selling ‘Knife-Fighter Street Warrior’ kit have been reported in the post-Christmas fallout…’

I can remember sitting catatonic, waiting for the newsreader to finish the report, imagining some little boy being mauled by his own Rockem Sockem robots who finally turned their anger on their puppet master. I would be catatonic with impending disappointment waiting to hear someone had been injured by the Barbie camper-van. I imagined chaining myself to mine, should it have found itself on the dreaded recall list. No way would I have parted with that, and Ken would’ve backed me up.

I began to wonder if it was just nostalgia, or if toys were more dangerous back in our day: and not because of a few dangling cords, but because Larry in Marketing convinced his team that the ‘Johnny Junior Electrician Explorer Kit’ was destined to become the top-seller of the season. Reminiscent of the SNL skit, ‘Bag O’Glass’, there seemed to be more of an element of danger involved in some toys - lawn jarts are just one example. And let’s just admit it: if fun and danger didn’t go together, they’d be no bungee jumping or roller coasters.

So again in the name of research I consulted the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission for a stroll down memory lane. Here are extracts of actual press releases from recalled toys:

1977: "Tumble Stones, Model #1901 Rock Polisher" and "Deluxe Double Barrel, Tumble Stones, Model #1902 Rock Polisher,” manufactured by RAPCO, Division of Martin Yale Industries, Chicago, Illinois, fail to comply with Federal regulations for electrically-operated toys and are banned from sale.
Although no injuries associated with these rock polishers have been reported, both fail to provide protection from moving parts; contain live parts which are accessible; have electric power cords which are not adequately secured to the unit; and the cords are shorter than the minimum required length of 5 feet.

A rock polisher for a toy? I suppose in order to make it fun there had to be some element of danger – in this case, the risk of electrocuting one’s self or the chance of jamming one’s fingers in the high speed moving belts. My cousins had one of these from the Sears catalogue. As I type this with nine fingers, I’m happy to report that it was the source of many good times.

1980 – “Fun Fountain” toys. The toy consists of a clown hat and head which attaches onto the end of a garden hose so that the hat rises in the air when water flows through the clown's head. Children may be inclined to peer into the water outlet and the stream of water could cause serious eye injuries, especially in communities with high water pressure.CPSC so far has been informed of two consumer complaints since June, 1979, involving a six-year-old boy and a seven-year- old boy who suffered eye injuries when struck at close distance by water emitted from the "Fun Fountain" toys.

Remember this one? Never went near the thing due to my fear of clowns. Scandal could’ve been avoided with a disclaimer on box and some complementary ‘kooky-klown’ eyepatches.

1979 - Toy Telephone recall. The sets include two battery-operated toy telephones connected by means of a detachable cord. The two-prong plugs at each end of the cord so closely resemble genuine electrical plugs that children may try to force them into household sockets, thereby receiving severe shocks or burns.
While Montgomery Ward has received no consumer complaints of injuries from the cords, CPSC staff reports that an 8-year-old girl was burned earlier this year when she forced a plug from a similar phone set (which was distributed by another company) into a wall electrical outlet.

This girl was eight - EIGHT! Way past the usual danger stage. I'm thinking a little Darwinism doesn't go astray from time to time. All of a sudden Hasbro’s ‘Li’l Elves Cobbler Kit’ (complete with tacks, hammer and toxic-fume glue) isn’t looking quite so dangerous as this little menacing telephone number.

1985 – “Official Chopper 9”. Approximately 30,000 "Official Chopper 9's" were sold between July of 1984 and January 1985 in Hawaii only. The firm and the Commission are aware of four eye and face laceration incidents in which the rotor blades either flew off the toy, striking the user or bystander, or the entire helicopter descended rapidly, striking the person in the face. The incidents happened in October 1984, and Whimports voluntarily stopped sales of the toy in January 1985.

‘Voluntarily’ stopped sales? Bless. This really was the good old days since clearly no one was suing. Note that even if the blades didn’t fly off the toy, you still weren’t safe: ‘…or the entire helicopter descended rapidly, striking the person in the face.’ Funny how they just slipped in that information. But there’s nothing like unpredictability to add to the danger element.


Things were perhaps more 'dangerous' then. We didn’t stay in car seats till we got our licenses, there were no woodchip-covered playgrounds, and the only people who wore helmets were the kids with special needs (and referring to them as retarded wasn’t in any way mean-spirited). Everything has become so…sanitised. Parent’s fears are manipulated to hysteric proportions – I’ll save my rant on the child-proofing industry for another time. It's worth noting that of all the reports I trawled through very few of them contained reports of any really serious or long-term injuries.

Ok, we may be sparing our children from a few scraped knees and elbows, but it makes me wonder if all this sanitization is coming at a price. In making all the decisions for them, we crippling the growth of one of the most important attributes for any adult to possess: common sense.

On that note, I’m going to ask my 5 year old to bake me a cake with the light bulb in the mini-bake oven. And I’m just going to warn her it gets hot.

The Graveyard of Old Bibs

Anyone have any clever uses for old bibs? (I feel obliged to mention that I am in no way crafty.) I don't use them that often anymore, and have roughly 122. I'm thinking of sewing them together into a quilt. I should have it completed before I'm 60.

New Dog

I would consider getting a dog simply for having someone to suck up the crumbs after every meal. Although our in-house ants do a wonderful job, it takes all day.

Seriously, who carpets under a kitchen table?

An Ode to David Letterman via Oprah

In my latest bid at shameless self-promotion, I decided to try and go straight to the top: Oprah. There was a recent ‘Be on the Show’ topic that asked for you to create a video of your ‘mom moments’. I can do this – I thought – boy, do I have plenty of fodder! And while I’m not really all that keen on the idea of seeing myself on television, I would like an hour with those hair and make-up people she employs.

Among others, one of the questions asked was what was something you wished you knew before having children?

So here is my Top Ten List, an Ode to Dave Letterman and of course, you too Oprah.

10 Things I Wish I Knew Before Having Children, or Things I Now Know For Sure, in no particular order:

10. The hours from 5-7pm are the equivalent of six normal daytime hours; conversely, the hours from their bedtime to yours are the equivalent of 15 minutes, during which time you have to email, read your book, have sex, and watch everything you’ve tivo-ed

9. If you can look in on them at night while they're sleeping and not still want to kill them, you're doing okay

8. Unless you move to a deserted tropical island where fig leaves or total nakedness is acceptable, you will never be caught up on your laundry again. Ever. (Except maybe with a full-time nanny, and then, only maybe.)

7. As soon as you pick up a telephone, your children (who have spent all day ignoring you) will begin fashioning crude weaponry out of things from the utensils drawer, helping themselves to ice cream, chips or other ‘sometimes’ food and /or simultaneously start demanding your undivided attention with that puzzle or craft they haven’t looked at in weeks

6. The contents of your vacuum cleaner bag will be thus: 90% dust, dirt and fluff; 10% cheerios, Barbie shoes and legos

5. You will have to renegotiate every major relationship in your life, no matter how stable: with your husband, your boss, your mother, your friends

4. Going to the bathroom for any reason (from peeing to tamponing to showering) will become a 'teachable moment'

3. Your outdoor voice becomes your indoor voice for large portions of the day

2. Expect your favourite clothes to become napkins, tissues, and on the odd occassion, even toilet paper - a sponge for any and all bodily fluids. (I'm still waiting for a fashionable clothing range from Bounty)

1. If you do it right, it's the hardest job ever; if you don't do it right, it's even harder

And, as every mum knows, everything tastes better with ketchup.

A Stationary Bike for Oompa Loompas

Ok, I usually don't just 'blog' and write little blurbs about (inane) things I have observed during my day, but today I just can't resist.

I saw for the first time ever today a pint-sized exercise bike. Yep. You heard me. A STATIONARY bike. For children. I thought exercising with a Wii was a bit disheartening, but woefully accepted it as a sign of the times.

But a kid's stationary bike? And it was not just a smaller version of an adult bike, but crafted out of bright, 'fun' primary colours and looked like it could only hold a child less than 8 years old.

I wonder if Junior is supposed to get on it so he can multi-task: say, to read the Wall Street Journal and catch up on his stock porfolio? Perhaps he can scarf down a sleeve of Oreos while pedaling away: try doing that on a ten-speed. Or perhaps it is for those days when he just can't bear to miss Diego. But then, isn't that what tivo is for?

The only obvious conclusion is that Oompa Loompas do, indeed, exist. It also explains their thighs of steel.