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T A B L E++T A L K

Is it OK to consume a small amount of alcohol while pregnant? Join the debate in the Mothers area of Table Talk

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R E C E N T L Y

Cyberspace: The final dating frontier
By Eve Glicksman
A cyber romantic discovers that the Web can bring doctors, bankers, engineers and old college boyfriends to your door
(01/05/98)

The mother of all years
By the editors of Mothers Who Think
A mom's almanac of the sad, silly, serious and sublime stories that made news in '97
(12/23/97)

Family myths, family realities
By Stephanie Coontz
A string of lurid cases this year drew attention away from the real challenges that confront American families
(12/23/97)

The Abandoned Newborn
A poem by Sharon Olds
(12/23/97)

I'll be home for sushi
By Debra Ollivier
An expatriate longs for the ersatz holiday spirit of her Los Angeles childhood
(12/22/97)

ARCHIVES

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Mamafesto
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

BY ELIZABETH RAPOPORT | Women are in a sorry state. We're always apologizing for everything. I'm not talking about the acts of contrition we perform for genuine transgressions. I'm talking about the completely unnecessary apologies we make for things that couldn't possibly be our fault. Here's a short list, culled from friends and coworkers, of the trivia we apologize for:

• Not remembering what friends take in their coffee (how could we care so little about them?)
• Phoning at a time when the other person "can't talk right now" (how could we not know?)
• Falling down or spilling coffee on ourselves (obliging others to help or forcing them to experience an uncomfortable spasm of pity)
• Giving work to assistants paid to do it
• Championing ideas our coworkers don't like
• Our breasts (our motto: "The Wrong Size, Guaranteed!")
• Being too tired for sex
• Having morning sickness (because it's borderline OK to be pregnant at work, just not to act it, or because we're afraid our fecundity will distress the Clomid crowd)
• Not agreeing to organize the second grade class's field trip (because we're not sure we can sandwich it in, what with the full-time job and volunteering for literacy)
• Not buying Air Hypies for our kids' feet

Picture the flurry of prophylactic apologizing when two women connect by phone: "Oh, hi, I'm sorry, I've been meaning to call you --"

"No, I'm sorry, I meant to call you last week!"

I myself have been known to apologize to my kids for making them pancakes instead of waffles (when they should in fact be grateful I don't wedge a cold Pop Tart between their mandibles as I propel them toward the bus stop); to baby sitters for interrupting their valuable "Ally McBeal"-watching, phone-call-making time (which I heavily subsidize to the tune of $5 an hour) to ask them to put my kids to bed; for not being cheerful enough at a time when I was weathering a minor depression and furtively gulping St. John's Wort like Chiclets. You should see me and my friend Janet play tennis. With every failure to drop the ball precisely at the partner's feet comes a forelock-tugging rite of self-mortification. It's a miracle we don't trade in our racquets for birch switches and eliminate the middleman.

Many women have adopted the labor-saving device of issuing blanket apologies in advance of any transgression. In "Breaking Point: Why Women Fall Apart and How They Can Re-create Their Lives," author Martha Beck quotes Doris, age 50: "It seems to me that all I ever do is apologize. I'm sorry I don't think for myself enough, I'm sorry I don't agree with other people's opinions enough, I'm sorry I'm not strong enough, I'm sorry I'm too strong. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry. I ought to just wear a sign that says I'M SORRY, and people could attach it to everything I do." As my coworker Lee explained, "I apologize for everything. I use it as punctuation. I use it so often I don't even know I'm saying it, like, 'I'm sorry, are you done with the copier?' Why did I say that? What did I have to be sorry for?"

N E X T+P A G E: A modest proposal for ending meaningless contrition