My Baby’s Got Sauce

I’m a sucker for well-worded compliments. Many people mistakenly believe I’m difficult and hard to please. (When I say “people”, I mean “friends and relatives”.) Quite the contrary, it’s embarrassing how easy I am. All it takes is a genuine flattering remark and I’m yours on whatever platter you’d prefer.

DISCLAIMER: If the admirer is dumb (thinks Bush is great for our country), boring (regurgitates WSJ’s opinion page and local preacher’s ramblings), or tacky (worships all things Britney) – then the accolade is automatically null and void and leads to a further souring of mood.

Otherwise, praise away. Here are my top three favorites:

#3: Fellow feminists unite! I know we want to be valued for what goes on inside our head, but isn’t it hot when someone notices weight loss or a dress bringing out the color in our eyes? Even the occasional “Nice rack, lady!” gets juices flowing if he has all his own teeth. Obviously I have other strengths and don’t hear such comments very often from someone other than the man legally required to bed me nightly. Still, when someone coos in a way reminiscent of James Spader’s character in Sex, Lies, and Videotape, he automatically replaces Chris Cornell in various fantasies involving satin sheets. I forget I’m an old married woman with two children and five loads of laundry and the buzz lasts at least five days and nights. (winkhusbandthanksyouverymuchwink)

#2 –My wit and wisdom, though cultivated for years, are no foregone conclusion and when someone says they enjoy my company and/or writing, I am high for at least a month. I melt like a sixteen year old receiving tongue for the first time when published, even if it’s an obscure e-zine only six people read because, still, those six people read it religiously and are convinced they share secrets no one else knows. And they like me, they really like me!

#1- The best and most frequent compliments regard my children. A part of me realizes they’re the ones receiving kind words; however, while they’re young, Husband and I are reflected in their every move. Since parenthood is our most important calling, when people comment favorably about our kids, we feel vindicated and worthy.

That’s why Thursday sucked. (Well, not the only reason, but I’m looking for a scapegoat.)

Thursday was Take Your Children to Work Day. For some reason, I thought it might be fun to take my boys to school and show them what Mommy does for a living. It was fun – at first. My students were terrific, happy to get out of real work by coloring and entertaining two five year olds, questioning them about life without meat and so on. Teachers *in my department* were great as well, mostly because they are mothers who understand and appreciate children.

With few exceptions, no one else said a thing. People walked right by and didn’t even smile at my two precious children. Many came up to discuss business as usual. I wanted to scream,

“Are you blind? Yes, I will discuss with you all the ways Florida’s Department of Education is incompetent if you will acknowledge these little cherubs at your feet. Smile, goddamn it, and tell me you’ve never EVER seen such cute/smart/charming children in all your life! They’re not going to be ignored, Dan!”

Cue up the score from Fatal Attraction.

You know reception is rough when one co-worker comes along and says, nonchalantly, “Cute kids. What are their names?” and I almost smother him with hugs and kisses. The upside is I’m no longer as blue about transferring to another school next year as I can now count on one hand the amount of people I’m fond of – even with two fingers chopped off.

In true non-hypocritical fashion, I am always quick to compliment others’ hair styles, teaching abilities, writing, and dirty jokes when appropriate and in a most heartfelt way. I really do. Only because I know it lifts spirits and encourages feelings of self-worth. But, next time one of my insensitive colleagues brings in something or someone of worth, hell, even a puppy, I’m gonna look away, scratch myself and ask their opinion about Tom Delay.

Count on it.