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T A B L E++T A L K

They're more annoying than Barney and they're coming to a TV near you. Let the "Teletubbies" bashing begin in Table Talk

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R E C E N T L Y

Women beware women
By Katie Roiphe
Our ongoing national catfight has revealed an unpleasant truth: Women have always betrayed each other
(04/03/98)

Second Thoughts: Nice Guys
By Sallie Tisdale
In the wake of the Arkansas schoolyard killings, a mother ponders guns, children, and the adults who bring them together
(04/02/98)

Straight-laced sisters
By Lori Leibovich
Liberal journalist Elinor Burkett met the enemy -- conservative women -- and found that they were, well, a lot like her
(04/01/98)

Drama Queen Candidates
Gum-chewing kissers, egomaniacal cheaters, line-dropping Olympic losers ... and the women who endured them
(03/31/98)

Making sense of Jonesboro
By Lori Leibovich
Harvard psychiatrist Alvin Poussaint talks about what makes children kill
(03/30/98)

ARCHIVES

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

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THE FUN POLICE | PAGE 2 OF 2

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My realtor has been a single mom for nine years since her husband left her and their 2-year-old daughter, never to be seen again. Although she admits the daily pressures can be overwhelming, she is glad the abusive daddy is out of the picture. "There's no debate how my daughter will be raised, there's no undercutting of what I'm trying to do," she said. That's particularly important as her daughter approaches the cusp of the teenage years. "Whether she likes me or not, she knows in her bones I'm the only one she's really got."

In contrast, single moms who share custody say they are unprepared for the sadism and snottiness that their children can display, homing in on their mothers' anxieties with the intensity and precision of a laser. A former co-worker, whose two daughters travel bi-weekly between her home and the house of her ex-husband, said it took years not to lose it when they outlined in explicit detail all the things they got to do with Dad (and now, the girlfriend) that she didn't think was appropriate. "They would come home and say, 'Hey, Mom, we saw "Jurassic Park" with Dad. Isn't that cool?' All I could do is try to balance out their experiences."

Another friend who lives in South Carolina, a single mom for years, said she knew intellectually that her only son would someday announce that he wanted to go off with good-time Dad in Miami. Yet she was still struck by her anger over the betrayal. In the end, she didn't even try to plead the case in terms of her son's love for her. She just packed up his stuff and mentioned that he might miss his buddies, his school, his car. Her son decided to stay. After all, he told her, his home is here. Her son's response, lacking any overt bow to his mother, wasn't exactly the ideal, but neither is motherhood much of the time.

And as some moms point out, we must remember the drudgery of life is what creates lasting relationships. Although fathers and grandparents might know pizza is a sure winner, they don't know exactly how to fix the hair or produce the right well-loved shirt. (My ex keeps buying tasteful Gap clothing for Ian and I take secret pleasure from the fact my child only likes to wear T-shirts with big, toothy dinosaurs.)

As for me, I find solace in the fact that a kind word from a 3-year-old is said with the same blinding truthfulness as the hurtful ones. And the reality is that when I took on the task of raising this child, I did indeed make a pact with Ian -- I was going to try to raise him into a good man. That mission does not change, with or without a father. And I take courage from the belief that we can be good mothers, and even friends with our children, without winning daily popularity contests.

Not that I don't occasionally throw all that theory out the window.

My ex-husband called me the other day to discuss Ian's impending birthday. As we tossed up ideas for gifts (swing sets, motorized cars and assorted evil action figures), he stopped briefly.

"You know, it really bugs me that Ian hates my music," my ex said. "Every time I put on a jazz CD, he puts his hands over his ears and says, 'No, daddy, play mommy's music. Mommy's music isn't yucky.'"

A brief silence followed as I, lover of bad pop music, tried to muster up some sort of sympathetic clucking.

But here's what I was thinking: Ice cream tonight, you lucky little mama's boy.
SALON | April 6, 1998

Diane Lore is a medical writer at the Atlanta Constitution.