April Recapitulates Descartes

April's new excuse is "my body did it."

Reading Wednesday

This week I am reading "How the Beatles Destroyed Rock & Roll," which is not really at all about how the Beatles destroyed rock and roll and which could also easily be titled "How Paul Whiteman Created Jazz" or "How Paul Whiteman Destroyed Jazz." That is to say, its subtitle, "an alternative history of American popular music," is the accurate summation of what this book is trying to do -- review and rewrite the history of 20th century American (popular) music. The author, Elijah Wald, points out correctly that most discussions so far have been critical histories, but that such an emphasis, though valuable, inevitably distorts the picture of how things were on the ground. He also addresses the "popular" part of popular music, which is nice. There's a lot of talk about dancing, too. The book walks through the 20th century noting in particular when and how people heard music -- and thus how things like Prohibition and recorded music changed those things, putting bars that hosted small ensembles out of business for 13 years for example.

Paul Whiteman, btw, is the guy you've never heard of who happened to be the biggest seller of jazz records in the 20s. He is probably most notable today for having commissioned "Rhapsody in Blue." Elsewhere this week I took a glib shot at "Classical Baby" redefining jazz (and "Singing in the Rain") as "classical." Wald problematizes this beautifully, examining the complicated relationship between what we call "classical" -- highbrow art music -- and jazz, and how the two became intertwined. Whiteman has a lot to do with it. Whiteman also has a lot to do with creating a space for jazz to become what it became after him as well.

This book was a gift, bought for me because of its title; I am notorious for my (mild) dislike of the Beatles. (The fact that a mild dislike can be notorious is itself something to ponder.) I put off reading it because I don't really need my taste (or underlying analysis) validated in this case; I am very pleased that I finally got around to reading it.

kids screaming in public

So today is the day I discuss being the parent of an inconsolable child. In public.

My kids are remarkably even-tempered most of the time. Most of the time. But occasionally they will melt down. Rarely in stores, which seems to be where most people complain about "parents whose children are hollering and they don't even bother to try and do anything about it." Restaurants, only once or twice and usually the threat to LEAVE NOW reduces it to quiet sobbing.

But there's been more than once that we were walking home from preschool and one or the other kids didn't want to leave their friends (who were leaving anyway), or wanted to spend all afternoon looking for salamanders under the rocks and I needed to get home to meet our "mother's helper" or something like that.

The most recent was a few weeks ago, during the last week of summer school. I don't remember the trigger, but I do remember April being so frustrated with me that she just started screaming at the top of her lungs. Walking up the block and screaming. She's got quite a voice, my friends.

I tried to mitigate things by quiet discussion (again, I don't remember the specifics so I am being vague by necessity). I tried waiting it out a bit. I offered hugs. Everything just increased the screams.

So I started walking home.

She followed me, screaming. I ignored the screams. People up and down the street turned to look at me and her. I kept walking. She kept walking. She kept screaming. Full-throated screams. Very unlike her. Very loud.

We made it up the block and across the street to the nice set of stairs situated about halfway home. And there I sat down and told April to come talk to me again. I said something like "you want to cuddle with me?" and she screamed. I said, "you want to cuddle with me and you're mad at me at the same time and that hurts, doesn't it?" And instead of screaming again, she started sobbing, nodded, and immediately crawled into my lap while I said "I'm sorry it hurts. It's OK to be mad at me and want to cuddle at the same time."

And then she stopped sobbing, and while she was still sad, she only sniffled a little on the second block home.

I was very proud of myself and of April for figuring all that out and reaching a resolution. But for that first block, I was the parent whose child was wailing inconsolably and disturbing all the neighbors, and that's what I want to dwell on today.

It is no news to anyone that parents often get dirty looks when their children are screaming in public. And extra judgment when it looks like they're "not doing anything." It was news to me today that other parents do some of that extra judgment, though I probably shouldn't have been surprised -- it's an easy way to perk yourself up about your own parenting approach and skills, to look down your nose at those other parents who aren't doing things perfectly. Or are just having a bad day.

Dirty looks aren't going to kill me. (!!!) I just want to say that sometimes -- for a variety of reasons -- doing nothing in the middle of a public outburst by one's children might be exactly the right thing to do. You, the bystander, don't know the context, what has been tried before and what might be tried in a few minutes in a different location.

And I'd rather have a parent ignore their screaming child than hit them or yell back.

(no subject)

I posted a poll over at LJ about She-Hulk's hair.