Friday, April 30, 2004 posted by Jen at 4/30/2004 06:12:00 PM
And I just remembered why I'm feeling so inept: my stroller's busted.
I think maybe only other city-dwelling Moms can appreciate what an absolute tragedy this is.
First one brake went. Then the other snapped right off. And this morning, the umbrella was all wobbly and crooked and sliding up and down because something that was supposed to be there holding it in place had broken.
The people at Babies R Us nicely restrained themselves from laughing in my face as I outlined the stroller's many problems, including a long plaint on how I'd bought it because it was supposed to be so damn well-constructed and sturdy. "You'll have to take it up with the people at Maclaren."
So that's what I'll do. But meanwhile, I had to buy a replacement.
I just surfed my way over to an online discussion of chick lit, where someone posted, "I found Jennifer Weiner's first book completely unbelievable!"
I am so tempted to post, "Jennifer Weiner's first book found you completely unbelievable, too! How crazy is that?!?!"
Also, is it wrong for me to be impatient with reporters who begin their interviews, "Can you tell me the names of your books and what they're about?" I just want to say, "there's this thing called the internet! Ever heard of it?"
I told the childhood-development-expert lady who runs my Friday afternoon playgroup about the no-diaper movement, in hopes that she'd roll her eyes right along with me. "Oh, no," she said, "that's a cultural thing. In China, they sell little kids' pants with slits right down the center, so the kids squat in the street and the parents pick it up, and in African cultures, where women wear their babies, it's considered a sign of great shame if a mother gets peed on."
And then this woman whose baby is only a month or so older than Lu says she's already putting him on the potty seat!
Sunday, April 25, 2004 posted by Jen at 4/25/2004 09:33:00 PM
My Best Friend's Wedding
My best friend Susan got married today, and it was a joyous and heartwarming affair. The bride was, as tradition demands, absolutely radiant. She carried lilacs, and managed to hide a bluegrass duo in an upstairs room of the Philadelphia mansion to surprise her new husband.
The food was delicious, our table was, as promised, the "fun table," the cocktail hour featured vodka-spiked kaffir limeade, and the following conversation.
Susan (speaking to a colleague of her husband's, and his wife): "I want you to meet my friend Jennifer. She writes books, and one of her books is being made into a movie!"
Me (through a mouthful of spicy duck cigar appetizer): "Shutup."
Wife of colleague: "Oh my goodness. I know you! I know who you are!"
Me (still with mouth full): "Mmphbllm."
W.O.C. (to her husband). "Honey, this is so exciting! You'll never believe it! This is the girl who wrote The Devil Wears Prada!"
I can also report that Nanna survived her second long day of extra work and got to sing "Happy Birthday" to Shirley Maclaine.
And that was some piece on gossip lit in today's Times, no?
I'm telling you, it's such a handicap to be a young female writer who doesn't live in New York.
Whatever thinly-veiled mudslinging of bad bosses and evil colleagues I've done in my books, it's been thinly-veiled mudslinging about bosses and colleagues in Philadelphia. Ergo, nobody gives much of a crap.
A few observations. One is that, in all the talk about the Nannies and the Devil, nobody's ever come to the allegedly maligned parties' defense.
Nobody's ever said, "Oh, that Anna Wintour! She's just misunderstood!" Or, "Society matrons who mistreat their help just need some love! And possibly a sandwich!"
Also, in all of the slamming of editrexes and socialites, I don't think there's ever been a male boss from hell in any of the gossip books (although The Twins of Tribeca might change all of that). There's some enterprising gender-studies graduate student's Ph.D. thesis in here somewhere.
Welcome to A Moment of Jen, author Jennifer Weiner's constantly-updated take on books, baby, and news of the world. Email me at jen (a) jenniferweiner.com.