My lovely wife's post the other day got me thinking. Holding doors open for people- and the etiquette of doing said service and/or receiving it.
Now I do my best to hold the door open for people, regardless of their physical status- be they pregnant, hands-full, handicapped or able-bodied. It's not out of any sense of real politeness- it just seems like common decency (yes, here's my back- go ahead and pat directly on the sign that says "pat here"). I actually feel bad if I let a door close behind me and then notice there was somebody coming in after me. Not really bad- like I don't feel the need to apologize profusely or track them down and offer to write them a check for the damages- just a normal amount, like "Oh damn, wish I had seen them," and then I move on - I might apologize a little, depending on the severity of the door-in-face to distance-behind-me ratio; but within reason.
When I do notice somebody's behind me, there's often that fine line of- is that person to far away for me to hold the door? We certainly don't want to offend, so usually I'll make the attempt- if not holding it open, at least performing the common maneuver giving the door an extra push or tug, so as to keep it open a little longer for the person without actually standing there holding it. If I do stand there, I do appreciate if the person makes at least the tiniest effort not to take their merry time getting to the door. Or when they do reach the door, at least an attempt to take the load off me- reaching out for the door- is always appreciated. I'm not your butler after all, and my courteousness only goes so far. Don't make me passive-aggressively (or is it passively-aggressive) let the door close on you on purpose- I've done it before and I'll do it again (you can have that pat on the back you gave back now). Also, a quick "thank you" or gesture of appreciation is always nice. A little acknowledgment is all I need. Although, when treated like a butler, some sort of tip might be more in order.
Like I said- it should be a matter of common decency. But for some I'd like to think it's less a matter of utter rudeness, and more of a complete obliviousness to the presence of others on the planet. Like: In a city of ten million people, there's no way somebody is coming in the same door as me, better just let it slam shut behind me. These are the same folks who stand in front of doorways- chatting it up and having a ball, completely in the way. Helllooo??
Ah, the lost art of politeness. Just remember, the door swing both ways, people- sometimes quite literally, but that's not what I'm talking about; focus people! Hold a door: that extra two seconds could come back to you in mass amounts of karma. Of course, it could also make you miss the elevator.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 5: On Diapers
My life, among other baby-related things, revolves a good deal around diapers now. Check her diaper, change her diaper, make sure we've packed the diapers, how many diapers are left, emptying the diaper pail... not to mention the conversations and notations of what's in the diapers- what color, consistency, frequency...
So now that I am regular consumer of diapers, I feel comfortable in addressing a particular issue that's troubled me for some time: Kids in public in just their diapers. Especially if they are are walking around on their own. If they're old enough to walk around, they're old enough to have some sorts of pants on. End of story. I don't even necessarily like seeing little babies in their parents clutches, sans clothing on the bottom. I don't care how hot out it is. Keep those butts (and the diapers surrounding them) covered, please.
And now, is if to further perpetuate my annoyance, Huggies brand has come out with diapers made to look like denim. News flash: They still look like diapers. Just blue diapers with little lines on them made to resemble stitching and pockets. And you know what? Never mind that they still look like diapers- they ARE still diapers. You're not a part of the solution, Huggies, you're exacerbating the problem.
One exception I would make is the impromptu run through the sprinklers or fire hydrant- you find yourself at the park on a hot day, and your small child wants to play in the water- and you haven't planned for this and don't want his or her clothes soaked. By all means, send your child out in just a diaper. Completely understandable. But don't walk around the grocery store or down a city street, with your child half-clothed. I'm sorry if you think it's just adorable... because it's not.
So now that I am regular consumer of diapers, I feel comfortable in addressing a particular issue that's troubled me for some time: Kids in public in just their diapers. Especially if they are are walking around on their own. If they're old enough to walk around, they're old enough to have some sorts of pants on. End of story. I don't even necessarily like seeing little babies in their parents clutches, sans clothing on the bottom. I don't care how hot out it is. Keep those butts (and the diapers surrounding them) covered, please.
And now, is if to further perpetuate my annoyance, Huggies brand has come out with diapers made to look like denim. News flash: They still look like diapers. Just blue diapers with little lines on them made to resemble stitching and pockets. And you know what? Never mind that they still look like diapers- they ARE still diapers. You're not a part of the solution, Huggies, you're exacerbating the problem.
One exception I would make is the impromptu run through the sprinklers or fire hydrant- you find yourself at the park on a hot day, and your small child wants to play in the water- and you haven't planned for this and don't want his or her clothes soaked. By all means, send your child out in just a diaper. Completely understandable. But don't walk around the grocery store or down a city street, with your child half-clothed. I'm sorry if you think it's just adorable... because it's not.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 4: The hospital
Our little wonder was diagnosed a little over a month ago with a hemangioma- a benign tumor- under her right eyelid. Not a terribly uncommon condition in children, but because of it's location and its threat to her developing eye and eyesight, it needed to be treated with medication. Unfortunately, to begin her treatment, she had to be admitted to the hospital for at least a 48 hour stay, so she could be monitored. Fortunately my wife and were allowed to stay with her for the duration.
I've been in the hospital for out-patient procedures, and for a few days with my wife when our little girl was born- never really an enjoyable time. But nothing compares, nor adds to the trials of the process as when the patient is your child. Adding to the heartbreak, are all the other children you see- and their parents wearing looks of concern and emotional exhaustion. Even with all the worry and nervousness I was experiencing, even with the all the wires attached to her little body, it made me really grateful that my little girl wasn't there recovering from major surgery, or wandering through the halls with an IV drip following close behind, or in worse condition. It was all there on display in our little corner of the ward.
(Emotionally unattached rant:) Speaking of those we shared or little corner with- and on a lighter note- and not to pat ourselves on the back- it appears as though my wife and were the only people who seemed to have any respect for those around us. These poor sick little children's cries paled in comparison to the noise made by their adult companions. People very loudly speaking on their phones, or talking to each other as if they were in separate zip codes despite the fact they were sitting next to or very near each other. There was a posted "Quiet Time from 1-3pm" sign that was never observed. And overheard at 3 am one morning was some guy saying, "Man this place is like a ghost town," with the subtlety of a lawn mower in a library. It's three o'clock in the morning dude, SHUT THE F UP. I understand everybody has their own ways of dealing with stressful situations, but is it too much to ask that they do it in a quieter fashion? It is a hospital after all, not the mall. When I'm trying to keep my daughter calm after being poked and prodded- I don't need to hear somebody talking about their leaky kitchen sink. Emoting over the state of your infirmed child is understood, discoursing at volume about your plumbing is not.(End of rant)
The greatest news came when we learned that she was responding well to the treatment, and that we'd be going home today. Her treatment was only just beginning, but now it could continue in the privacy of our home- away from the hubbub of others' chaos, and away from the reminders of how much worse it could be.
I'm glad that at only 11 weeks old, this isn't an experience she'll ever remember. I'm glad that she's too young to know that she should be afraid. And I'm filled with unbelievable gratitude that we're back in our own beds tonight. At one point this morning, I looked down in the eyes of my little girl and asked her to promise me she'd never be sick enough where she'd have to come back to this place. A promise I know she doesn't really have control over- but nonetheless a promise I hope with all my heart she keeps.
I've been in the hospital for out-patient procedures, and for a few days with my wife when our little girl was born- never really an enjoyable time. But nothing compares, nor adds to the trials of the process as when the patient is your child. Adding to the heartbreak, are all the other children you see- and their parents wearing looks of concern and emotional exhaustion. Even with all the worry and nervousness I was experiencing, even with the all the wires attached to her little body, it made me really grateful that my little girl wasn't there recovering from major surgery, or wandering through the halls with an IV drip following close behind, or in worse condition. It was all there on display in our little corner of the ward.
(Emotionally unattached rant:) Speaking of those we shared or little corner with- and on a lighter note- and not to pat ourselves on the back- it appears as though my wife and were the only people who seemed to have any respect for those around us. These poor sick little children's cries paled in comparison to the noise made by their adult companions. People very loudly speaking on their phones, or talking to each other as if they were in separate zip codes despite the fact they were sitting next to or very near each other. There was a posted "Quiet Time from 1-3pm" sign that was never observed. And overheard at 3 am one morning was some guy saying, "Man this place is like a ghost town," with the subtlety of a lawn mower in a library. It's three o'clock in the morning dude, SHUT THE F UP. I understand everybody has their own ways of dealing with stressful situations, but is it too much to ask that they do it in a quieter fashion? It is a hospital after all, not the mall. When I'm trying to keep my daughter calm after being poked and prodded- I don't need to hear somebody talking about their leaky kitchen sink. Emoting over the state of your infirmed child is understood, discoursing at volume about your plumbing is not.(End of rant)
The greatest news came when we learned that she was responding well to the treatment, and that we'd be going home today. Her treatment was only just beginning, but now it could continue in the privacy of our home- away from the hubbub of others' chaos, and away from the reminders of how much worse it could be.
I'm glad that at only 11 weeks old, this isn't an experience she'll ever remember. I'm glad that she's too young to know that she should be afraid. And I'm filled with unbelievable gratitude that we're back in our own beds tonight. At one point this morning, I looked down in the eyes of my little girl and asked her to promise me she'd never be sick enough where she'd have to come back to this place. A promise I know she doesn't really have control over- but nonetheless a promise I hope with all my heart she keeps.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Confessions of a new dad, vol 3: Ready, set... wait!
There was a pizza party/baby shower for a co-worker of mine at work today. He's having a little girl too, and also like with us it's his first. So doing my best grizzled-veteran (of just over two months, mind you), I imparted some advice. Eat that pizza while it's still hot.
It's just another thing that if you think about it, it's like- of course it's hard to sit down and eat a meal when there's a tiny baby involved. But you gotta think, well the baby's gotta sleep at some point, we'll eat then. The thing you need to figure out on your own is that babies are born equipped with built-in heat-seeking sensors that work as such: If it's warm and I'm not eating it- than neither are you. If I'm asleep and dinner is ready to eat- I will wake up. If I am already awake, I will fuss and demand your attention until the food has cooled considerably. At which point you may go about your business, and "enjoy" your meal.
Now luckily, with two parental units, one gets a warmer dinner than the other. And I think my wife and do a pretty good job of switching off. I eat, you tend to the babe... you eat, I wrestle the child. Re-heat and repeat. It works, and it has to because dinner at 10pm on a Tuesday night is not high on my to-do list. And on those few nights where the sensors get jammed somehow and we enjoy a warm meal together at the same time- we feast like... well, like normal people. Grateful, normal people.
It's just another thing that if you think about it, it's like- of course it's hard to sit down and eat a meal when there's a tiny baby involved. But you gotta think, well the baby's gotta sleep at some point, we'll eat then. The thing you need to figure out on your own is that babies are born equipped with built-in heat-seeking sensors that work as such: If it's warm and I'm not eating it- than neither are you. If I'm asleep and dinner is ready to eat- I will wake up. If I am already awake, I will fuss and demand your attention until the food has cooled considerably. At which point you may go about your business, and "enjoy" your meal.
Now luckily, with two parental units, one gets a warmer dinner than the other. And I think my wife and do a pretty good job of switching off. I eat, you tend to the babe... you eat, I wrestle the child. Re-heat and repeat. It works, and it has to because dinner at 10pm on a Tuesday night is not high on my to-do list. And on those few nights where the sensors get jammed somehow and we enjoy a warm meal together at the same time- we feast like... well, like normal people. Grateful, normal people.
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