T A B L E++T A L K

Single mothers share their experiences and advice in the Mothers area of Table Talk

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R E C E N T L Y

Her siren thong
By Shelley Youngblut
Eve had her apple. Monica had her thong
(09/29/98)

Uh-oh, Spaghettios
By Danny Miller
Health food junkie: A single dad's obsession
(09/28/98)

Something to declare
By Dwight Garner
Novelist Julia Alvarez has something to declare
(09/25/98)

Recipes make the woman
By Sallie Tisdale
Betty Crocker was a model woman and other kitchen myths
(09/24/98)

Conception by deception
By Tracy Quan
Why do women get away with "accidentally" getting pregnant -- when if a man tried to pull the same manipulative stunt, he'd be Bobbitted?
(09/23/98)

BROWSE THE WILD THINGS ARCHIVE

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Mamafesto
By Camille Peri
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

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"OPERATOR, CAN YOU TELL ME HOW TO GET GAK OFF THE SEAT OF MY WOOL PANTS?"

BY LISA MOSKOWITZ | When I was old enough to voice my discontent over the dreaded pixie cut -- a hairstyle my mom thought was cute but I thought made me look like a boy -- I grew my hair long as an act of rebellion. The problem with long hair on a hyperactive 5-year-old, of course, is knots -- the kind that no amount of gentle maternal comb-tugging can smooth away. Only a healthy dose of Johnson & Johnson's No More Tangles and a good yank could dissolve my rat's nests. But even this remedy failed when I engaged in the charming habit of chewing my hair and my gum at the same time. You can imagine the outcome.

There's no training course for parents on how to dislodge a matted wad of gooey pink gum from a child's hair without using torture or a pair of scissors to cut out the offending glop. After trying to pick my hair out of the clot strand by strand, my mom finally headed for the refrigerator. First she tried mayonnaise -- something slick to counteract the stickiness. When that didn't work, she went for the peanut butter. Miraculously, that did the trick.

These days, gum in hair seems quaint compared to all the highly questionable substances that can get stuck in and on various body parts and household items. Take Silly Putty. All I remember about that pliable goo is that it came in an egg-shaped container and was the color of a dull pink eraser. You could press it onto newspaper comics and the cartoon would imprint on the putty's surface, and when you got bored with that trick, you could roll it into a ball and drive your mother crazy by bouncing it off the walls. Soon after that, it was confiscated and locked away.

The good news about Silly Putty is that it's nontoxic. The bad news is that Silly Putty -- now in Original, Glow-in-the-Dark, Glitter, Changeable and Bright colors -- has the potential to stain clothing and other fabrics, like the priceless antique velvet gracing your new sofa. Luckily, printed on the Silly Putty package is a toll-free number to call with questions such as, "Can you remove Silly Putty from dog fur?" or "My daughter just shoved Silly Putty up her nose. Should I be concerned?" (The package warns not to use the tacky substance as ear plugs, but it doesn't say anything about nose plugs.) But be forewarned: The Silly Putty 800 number, run by its corporate parent, Binney & Smith of Eaton, Pa., is only staffed from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Eastern Time. So if you're sitting down to dinner in Idaho and your fanny lands on the gob of Silly Putty your son left on your chair, you're out of luck. If the putty happens to chemically bond with the seat of your pants during office hours, however, the cheerful representative will recommend you spray WD-40 on your butt, let it sit there for a while and then scrape it off. The resulting stain should be treated with rubbing alcohol and any other residue can be apprehended with a damp sponge and dish-washing liquid. Binney & Smith, the smart business people that they are, do not guarantee perfect results.

A modern, gooier take on Silly Putty is Mattel's Gak, which has the consistency of dry rubber cement and has no redeeming purpose except to make fart-like noises when you squish it. Developed in conjunction with the children's cable television network Nickelodeon, this delightful substance comes in a variety of colors and odors. Beach Gak, for instance, stinks of salt water and dead fish. Precautions should be taken before engaging Gak. It's nontoxic, as children's toys must be to meet safety standards, but, as the wrapper warns, GAK IS NOT A FOOD PRODUCT. Tell that to your older-than-3-but-younger-than-rational child. The package goes on to caution (also in bold) against playing with Gak on carpeting and warns that it may stick to or stain fabrics, varnished and unvarnished surfaces. Take my advice: Try to relegate Gak handling to the great outdoors, where your child can explore the relative uselessness of this toy on the grass rather than on your new all-wool carpet.

But let's just say it's raining outside, and in a weak moment you let the buggers sculpt their Gak indoors. And let's say that the angels -- inadvertently of course -- grind a dollop of Gak into the aforementioned wool carpet. What do you do, besides cry? The package recommends removing excess Gak by applying carpet spot-remover and then washing the area with detergent and hot water. What if it gets on clothing? Don't bee-line it to the dry cleaners, because even a good dry cleaning will not remove Gak. When I called the Mattel Consumer Affairs hot line to find out how the hell you can remove the stuff, a representative told me her own personal remedy for removing Gak from clothes was cold water and stain remover. Genius. When I asked her for a recommendation for a good "stain remover," she rifled through what sounded like the Handbook of Gak Removal until she found an old e-mail from a consumer like me. Using a solution of half vinegar and half water, that enterprising woman found she could get the Gak out of most any article of clothing. Of course, this nifty liquid potion might fade your clothes, but hey, at least your blazer will be Gak-free.

While I never thought I'd be singing the praises of that evil birthday party staple Silly String, my research shows that it is the least ruinous of the gunk. Made by Wham-o -- mass producer of the Hula Hoop -- Silly String comes in several colors, including my personal favorite, cotton-candy pink. When you shake the can and spray, a thin string of foamy stuff and a thick whiff of chemicals shoot out. If you touch the string before it dries, it feels wet and cool and it leaves a slimy trail when you pick it up. The only material Silly String claims to stain is vinyl, so make sure your prized white go-go boots are safely out of the way when your little one takes aim. Wet or dry, Silly String lifted off of several surfaces I tested -- marble, tile, carpeting, varnished wood -- without leaving a mark. Although it's not supposed to be flammable, Wham-o recommends that you don't spray Silly String near an open flame or even a warm light bulb. Inhaling the vapors (if you like rubber cement, you'll love Silly String!) can be fatal, so encourage your kids to abstain from spraying it in each other's faces.

And if it does get in someone's hair, I'd try washing it out with peanut butter. If that doesn't work, maybe a little WD-40 will do the trick.
SALON | Sept. 30, 1998

Lisa Moskowitz is a freelance writer and contributing editor at Salon. She lives in San Francisco.