Ten things you should read before correcting someone's grammar

Are you a grammar or language fiend?

Do you notice errant apostrophes, misuses of their/there/they're, and rage about txt spk? When you find a spelling mistake on a menu, do you let everyone within earshot know? Do you secretly (or not so secretly) think people with bad grammar are stupider or lazier than you? Have you ever criticised someone's mistakes on a forum, on Facebook or in any other informal medium? Do you wantonly share jokes about comma use and apostrophes? Do apparent mispronunciations of words make you apoplectic? What about words used incorrectly?

If you've answered yes to any of the above, you are a grammar fiend or a language fiend, so this blog entry is just for you. Failure to heed this advice may result in smugness exploding your brain, or losing friends. Or, at the very least, looking like a dork. So, here you go: ten things you should read before correcting someone's language or grammar.*

1. Are YOU perfect? Unless your own grammar is so perfect that you'd win the gold medal at the grammar Olympics, you'll look like a dork pointing out someone else's mistakes. And be laughed at. Or mocked behind your back. Either way, best not say anything unless you're 100 per cent sure you're beyond reproach yourself.

2. Make sure your 'correction' is correct. However amusing this may be to others, being wrong when you correct someone isn't going to win you friends. In fact, if you make this mistake, you might as well wear a giant sign around your neck reading "Mock me!"

A common mistake is being told to say "I" when "me" is correct. For example:

Me: "Look at this photo of Dad and me."
Grammar fiend: "Look at this photo of Dad and I."
Me: "Burn! You're wrong! Here's my spare "Mock me!" sign for you to wear. No, really. I insist."

Another is the s's rule. I once sat next to a man in a pub who moaned at length about the "grammatically incorrect" title Bridget Jones's Diary. If he'd put as much energy into reading up about the apostrophe rule as he did moaning about the common misuse of it, he would know that the title is not a grammatical faux-pas as either Jones' or Jones's is fine. I wish I'd had the "Mock me!" sign on hand then.

3. It might just be personal preference ... While there are definite rules in grammar, some boils down to personal preference. If you don't believe me, I challenge you to gather 100 grammar fiends in a room, and ask them if the Oxford Comma should be banned. Then, run away.

4. .... or a different accent. Whether it's a to-may-to or a to-ma-ta does not change the fact that it is small, red and delicious with tuna in sandwiches. Pronunciation of words has evolved over time too, or we'd all say "wed-nes-day", and "waps" for "wasp".

5. Just because someone's made a grammatical error, that doesn't mean everything else they write is wrong. Nor does it mean that you win the argument. The only exception is if someone is arguing that they ought to have won the gold medal in the grammar Olympics or the like. In fact, I wish there could be a buzzword like Godwin's Law that would mean an internet debate is instantly lost by a party if they criticise another's grammar when it has no relevance to the discussion at hand. I'd call it the "Law of Dorks". Named, of course, after the dorks who do this.

6. Language evolves. Nothing has enraged the language fiends in recent years more than the meaning of the word 'literally' being updated in the Oxford English Dictionary. So now I could say that I literally ate a million marshmallows and am now literally the size of Mars, whereas I couldn't say that last year. Just like 'gay' has a different meaning now, and 'choose' used to be 'chuse'. Language evolves. If it hadn't, we'd all be able to understand Beowulf and Chaucer.


7. There are many reasons why someone may have made a mistake. Smartphones, auto correct, writing in a hurry, writing with a toddler on your lap**, bad teachers at school, English as a second language, learning difficulties. These things don't mean that the person isn't as smart as you, or wouldn't pick up their own mistake on closer inspection.


8. There are nice ways to make corrections. Say you spot a mistake on a menu. There are two ways of dealing with this:

A) Making loud scoffing noises while pointing out the mistakes to whoever you're with, accompanied by eye-rolling and muttering about morons and a bad education system. OR

B) Speaking quietly to whoever's in charge, with no-one else in earshot, and saying that "it's not a big deal but I thought you'd like to know ... "

Obviously, the second is better. If you are guilty of the former, you run the risk of looking like a dork.

9. What are the implications of not correcting the other person? Is the mistake on a banner they plan to attach to a small plane and fly around the countryside? Or in a tattoo? If so, it's probably best to correct them. Is the mistake in a personal shopping list, a Facebook update or a text message? These are times it's probably best to keep quiet.

10. Ask yourself - why am I correcting the other person? 

Is it because you love language and love to educate? Or is it because, deep down, you want to feel superior? Are you looking to teach or disempower?  Good grammar isn't a sign of intelligence, it's just a sign of someone who has learnt the rules. Thinking otherwise is like remembering the details of all the Presidents of the USA and fancying yourself an expert in US history.

So, grammar fiend - heed these rules! If not, I suggest investing in a giant "Mock Me!" sign. Literally. 

* Of course, unless you are proof reading for work.
** This can be blamed for many of my mistakes

Enid Blyton: to read to my kids or not to read to my kids?

When I was young, I loved reading Enid Blyton books. There were adventures up trees and on flying chairs, boarding schools, circuses and mysteries.  There were also villains with names that perfectly captured the eight year-old imagination, like Dame Slap. A dame, I used to think, that slapped! Was there ever a more fitting name? No, I decided. Unless you counted the aptly-named Big Ears. I thought she was pretty clever, that Enid Blyton. 

This Enid euphoria lasted until late last year when I went to buy my seven year-old niece a book for Christmas, and decided that my favourite book at that age would be perfect: The Adventures of the Wishing Chair. I bought the book, took it home, and sat down for a nostalgic read. At first, I thought I'd seen a typo. Surely the character I remembered as "the pixie" wasn't called Chinky? I double checked. Yup. Chinky. My liberal politically-correct heart almost palpitated right there and then.

Closer analysis has since shown that Chinky is the tip of the racist, sexist, and corporal-punishment-promoting iceberg. The question therefore remains: to read Enid, or not to read Enid to my kids?

The case for Enid 

I loved the books and read dozens. I would also like to think that I'm a reasonable, tolerant, feminist who appreciates that 'golliwog' is an insult, girls aren't inferior, and Dame Slap really ought to have adopted better teaching methods. So, I haven't become a sexist bigot that hits poor school mice with my giant slippers.

I can only think of one incident where Enid Blyton books caused me a spot of bother: I was 17 the first time I ever went to the UK, and had once read an Enid Blyton book about a girl who had an entire shilling and spent in on sweets with disastrous-yet-ultimately-educational consequences. I don't remember the book, or the protagonist, but remembered the shilling. In fact, it never occurred to me that the British didn't use the shilling any more. Cue a very awkward conversation with a shop assistant when I tried to buy a coke at Heathrow and asked if it was 75p, did that make it 4 shillings?

The case against Enid

Dick and Fanny! I think the names speak for themselves.  Not to mention bullies, children being hit, evil gypsies, use of the "N" word, and incredibly pompous, condescending behaviour. And meanness about only children. And in this enlightened day and age, stories about golliwogs and a character called Chinky really is quite uncool.

Although, as an aside, I understand that some of the names in the books have been changed to less snigger-worthy names. I'm not sure if this makes much difference, though. I may have been in the dark about the shillings, but even I knew that Dick and Fanny were names to be laughed at behind your hand rather than taken seriously. Or used for your future children.

So, what to do?

There's no doubting that the books are dated, but as my reading of Mothercraft on this blog has shown, lots of things from that era have changed. Like, trying to get babies to use a potty from a month old, and putting your kids in the sun for hours. Just because we know better now doesn't mean we have to pretend that other points of view never existed. If we do that, how can we ever learn from the past? 

I've decided to still read some of the books to my kids, and my niece still received her copy of the Wishing Chair. I've just decided that when they are old enough to read these books, I'll do my best to be alongside them to explain the content. For example, that some of the language is dated, and that time has moved on. In fact, being a history nerd, these books could be a great platform for some learning. I'll also make sure I point out that the shilling stopped being used in Britain in 1971. Just in case.

Cold shower treatment: how not to get a cold

I have a cold. Boo! I feel like my head is stuffed with cotton wool, and all of a sudden simple tasks like hanging out a load of washing feels as difficult as scaling a mountain on my hands. OK, maybe a slight exaggeration, as am clearly well enough to blog. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say due to feeling ill I am currently ignoring my wet washing in favour of sitting at the computer trying to think of difficult physical feats I also don't want to do. Either way, being sick is lame. Especially when your toddler asks why you're not at hospital if you're sick, and you have to instantly downgrade your pity-party by explaining that you're not actually that sick, just sick enough.

Out of curiosity I turned to Mothercraft to see what they have to say about preventing and treating colds. Most of the advice is fairly sensible, especially regarding personal hygiene and fresh air. There was one recommendation that jumped out at me: "A cool shower in the morning followed by vigorous exercise, will render a child more resistive to colds."

My first thought was how tricky it would be to add a cold shower into my toddler's morning routine. Some days I consider that I deserve a medal just for getting the peanut butter wiped off his face. He does have a shower followed by "vigorous exercise" on a fairly regular basis (if you count running away from me while yelling "nudey run"), but that's in the evening, and the shower is warm. 

My second thought was how could that possibly work? James Bond has cold showers, but he's not exactly the exemplar of how to stay safe and well. I've had a number of cold showers myself, most notably during a week in Nepal where we didn't have hot water once. And, it wasn't very nice. In fact, it was freezing and uncomfortable, and I stayed cold for hours afterward. There is a lot online about the benefits of cold showers, but the first two I read didn't convince me. The first was on a website called "The Art of Manliness" that talked about cold showers as a way to enhance your inner 007.  The second promoted cold showers as they are uncomfortable, and being uncomfortable helps you lead a more meaningful life. So, neither left me convinced. 

So, like many other recommendations in Mothercraft, I think I'll pass on the cool shower idea, both for me and the kids. I'm just not convinced of its merits, and wanting to be like James Bond isn't enough of a draw card for me. If I wanted to copy him, I'd much rather have a Martini. When I get better, that is.

"Things were better in my day!" Or were they?

So many people talk about the past like it was perfect. The days were longer, the weather better, children more polite and adults had more morals. Children did more and complained less. Life was simple, and there weren't pedophiles loitering around every corner. Not like now, they say, usually muttering an excessive number of 'tut tuts". Listening to some of these people speak, you'd imagine that before 1980, everyone spent all their free time sitting in circles, holding hands, and singing "Kumbaya" or the like. It's like how so many artists and thinkers get misty-eyed about the apparent pre-Industrial Revolution utopia that didn't really exist, but harder to refute because it's people's memories we're talking about here. It's pretty hard to tell someone that they remember something incorrectly.

So - were things better in the past? In the spirit of this blog, I've decided to compare things today with the women who would have read Mothercraft in the late 1940s.  Then, we shall all be enlightened! 

Things that are better now

1. Health.  My kids and I are certainly less likely to have serious health concerns than ever before, especially during that pregnancy and childbirth malarky. Plus, unlike my grandmothers, I don't have to worry about my kids getting something like polio. Awareness of mental health problems is so much better now too. The original Modern Mothercraft of 1945 doesn't say a word about post-natal depression, whereas it's well known today as something to look out for. 

2. Better ability to make your own choices. Especially for women. My grandma had to leave school at 12, whereas I was able to get a Masters Degree and forge a career. I'd like to think my daughter will have even more choices than I had. Whatever your views on contraception and abortion, there is also no denying that they've allowed women to have much more choice over what size family they have, which contributes to women having children later. I reckon boys have more choices too. If my son wants to grow up to become a ballerina or a make-up artist I'd like to think he'd be able to, at least more able to do so that had he been born in the past.

3. The World feels smaller. It's much easier to teach my children about other countries and cultures due to the Internet. Different cultures and religions are also more celebrated, meaning that in the last six months we've been able to take our toddler to both a Diwali festival and a Chinese New Year festival. I didn't even know what those things existed until I was in my late teens. I didn't even eat sushi until I was 21, and thought that all Chinese food was the sort you get at the fish and chip shop.

4. Tolerance. While far from perfect, there's no denying things are more tolerant now than in the 1940s. When Mothercraft was published in NZ, homosexuality still wouldn't be made legal for over 40 years, to use one example, whereas I'm going to attend a wedding next week with two grooms.

5. Cheaper goods. Of course not better for the sweat shop workers producing said goods, but there's no denying that things like clothes are cheaper now. As I blogged about earlier, though, the quality can leave something to be desired.

International Women's Day: a letter to my grandmothers

Dear grandmothers, great grandmothers, great great grandmothers, and all the rest of you that came before,

I never got to meet any of you. My grandmothers, you died in the decade before my birth, and the rest of you long before that. I've been thinking about you recently, while working on this blog. I've especially been thinking about you all now I have a daughter.  I think about all of the things I'd love to talk to you about. Most of all, I'd love to hear your stories. Not the big and exciting stories that make it into the history books, but the simple, everyday ones. Like: what was your favourite article of clothing when you were in your 20s? What were your labours like? How did you fix your hair? What chores did you hate the most? Was the father of your children your first love, or a love at all? What did you do for fun? Did you do anything for fun? Did you want to travel? Were you happy? 

And to the women of my matrilineal line - my mother's mother's mother's mother's right back to the seven daughters of Eve: when you spoke to your children, were you shocked by how much like your mother you sounded? I hope so. Because I often am surprised by how much like my mother I sound, and I like the idea that I might be sounding like you too, although we've never met. 

As I write this, I'm also a little ashamed. I'm ashamed that I know so few of your names. I know the names of many of my male ancestors, as these have been better passed down through the generations. So few people even care about your names. When I was pregnant with my son, many people asked if he would be named after my father, or my husbands father. When I was pregnant with my daughter, not a single person asked that about my mother or husband's mother. It didn't occur to them, and unless that changes, my descendants won't know my name either, when they may know my husband's and my son's.

Things parents shouldn't say to each other

I've had a think about part two of what books about parenting  ought to say (a sequel to what not to say to pregnant women), and can't go past what parents really shouldn't say to each other. And yes, I have been guilty of some of these in the past. And yes, that makes me a giant, smug, hypocrite. But no, that won't stop me compiling this list anyway. So here goes:

1. My baby rolled/sat/walked/recited to one hundred in Mandarin while standing on his head juggling flaming sticks at your baby's age. Especially when anyone with eyes and ears can clearly see that your baby or child cannot do these things. Except the one with the flaming sticks. In that situation you could always lie and say that you accidentally left them at home.

2. Feigned concern. This often follows the point above, when the other parent pretends like they're concerned by saying something like "oh, he can't roll yet, are you worried?", but they can't keep the glee from their eyes as their progeny performs rolls so impressive the Circus will call at any minute.Not to be confused of course with real concern, which is lovely. 

3. Just wait until they're older! Usually said when something is going well and I've noted how much I am enjoying my children. I hate this because it's dis-empowering, as if someone has older children, I can never catch up. When my children are older their children will be older still, so the "just wait until they're older" comments will probably continue until I'm in a rest home and my children in their 60s. ("You think your son's hip operation was expensive? Just wait until he has to draw down a pension etc etc")

4. You're at home with the kids? Oh I'd love to do that but need to use my brain. OR You're a working mum? No, that's not for me, I'd miss my kids too much. As a disclaimer, I am aware women have civilised and pleasant conversations about the working issue all of the time, and have had many myself. As a rule, though, it's a minefield. Especially when a certain smarmy tone is adopted when saying either of the above. At best, you'll make the recipient angry. At worst, you'll make them feel really bad about themselves.

Things travelling and stay home parenthood have in common

Modern Mothercraft strongly advises against travelling with young children unless absolutely necessary. In fact, it proclaims "it should be avoided as far as possible" for reasons including change of routine, "digestive upset", and infection from crowds. It also strongly advises against train travel if possible, noting that planes are "usually quite safe".* 

I love travelling. Before having children, my husband and I spent many a happy time wandering around far-flung locations armed with guide books, backpacks, and ugly-yet-practical shoes. Now we have kids, we've only been two holidays that didn't involve staying with extended family.  While I'm sure that travel is much easier now than it would have been in 1945, it's still harder than before kids. The closest I have gotten to real travel recently is looking at other people's pictures on Facebook.

I have been thinking, though, about how there is a lot that stay-home parenthood and travelling actually have in common.  Perhaps I have too much time on my hands as a stay home mum, and perhaps I am grasping at straws in a deluded fashion, but here are ten things I've come up with:

1. Sleep deprivation.  Jet lag wakes you at odd hours, and we had many an early morning to catch a bus, plane or train. So, it's just like now with a toddler.and a newborn!

2. Sleeping in odd uncomfortable places. An airport floor while waiting for an early flight. A toddler's bed when they can't sleep on a stormy night. The discomfort of an Indian slat bed. The discomfort of the aforementioned toddler deciding my pillow is just the place for his feet when the storm does lull him to sleep. Exactly the same!

3. Being hassled. When travelling, I was often hassled to buy a person's wares, or to give them money, or to ride in their taxi/auto rickshaw/tuk tuk. Now I'm hassled to put on Peppa Pig and provide a never ending supply of Tiny Teddies.

What not to say to a pregnant woman

All this talk of parenting guides and Plunket books has got me thinking about what we parents really need: a guide that is compulsory reading for anyone that interacts with new parents. The first chapter should cover what not to say to a pregnant woman, before moving on to what not to say to a harassed parent. I propose the last section cover what parents should not say to each other. 

I was lucky that my pregnancies were fairly positive experiences, and most people I met were lovely. There were still a few things said to me that gave me the rage, though, so here's my go at what the first chapter - what not to say to a pregnant woman - ought to say:

1. Oh, you look big! As if you don't need reminding that you haven't seen your feet in weeks and feel like a giant galoompa as it is. Or, in the case of what someone said to me at six months, surely you can't get any bigger?

2. Oh, you look small! Now I didn't get this very much (see above) but I imagine it could make you feel very worried about baby's growth.

3. Your pregnancy seems to be going well. Just because you're not hosting your own moan-fest every day or don't have serious issues doesn't mean there aren't other things going on that you don't exactly want to tell a colleague over a water cooler chat. 

4. Women still die in childbirth, you know. Someone said this to me when I was about 34 weeks. Hormonal rage glare was well activated, I'll tell you, followed by me obsessively Googling stats on maternal mortality. 

5. The anesthetic didn't work during my c-section. Or any other horrendous labour story. Or any story about a regular intervention or commonly used drug that severely damaged someone you vaguely know's brother's wife's cousin. 

Older mothers and 30 being the new 20

Once upon a time, I was a single 20-something who considered 9am to be far too early to get up on a Saturday morning, bought clothes that were dry clean/hand wash only, and thought all babies looked the same. 5am was more likely to bedtime after a night out than the start of a day. Back then, I also used to read Cosmopolitan religiously. Once, I read in Cosmo that 30 is the new 20. Of course, I didn't believe it. Why would I? 30 was oooooold. 20 was 20. Couldn't old people do maths?

I've been thinking of this again recently because I am now well in my mid-30s so trying to tell myself I'm still young in a manner in which 20-something me would have mocked. 30 is totally the new 20, so when I hit 40 it's really only 30, 50 is 40 etc until I'm 110 and get a special letter from King George to tell me how awesome I am for living so long. Assuming we're still a monarchy of course. And yes, thinking about that is far nicer than thinking about an impending tide of grey hair and wrinkles.

Thinking about the women that would have read Mothercraft though I have evidence that Cosmo has the right idea. Here's why:

I was 31 when my son was born, and the Plunket lady told me that was bang on average for women in my Wellington suburb. My antenatal group certainly reflected that, as we were all within a couple of years of each other in age. Turns out that's still on the old side by national standards, but not by much. According to Statistics NZ, the median age for women giving birth for the first time is 28, so I wasn't too old. Woo hoo! 

Women in the 1944 had their first children so much younger, as this table shows:

FIRST BIRTHS, BY AGE OF MOTHER

Age of Mother.	First Births, Proportion per Cent. at each Age-group to Total First Births.
	1914.	1924.	1934.	1944.	1948.
Under 20	6.73	7.55	8.90	7.33	6.68
20 and under 25	35.89	38.16	40.39	41.79	44.08
25 and under 30	35.01	32.59	32.79	29.54	31.01
30 and under 35	15.61	14.68	13.10	14.61	12.48
35 and under 40	5.52	5.33	3.79	5.36	4.66
40 and under 45	1.16	1.59	0.99	1.34	1.06
45 and over	0.08	0.10	0.04	0.03	0.03
Totals	100.00	100.00	100.00	100.00	100.00

In fact, more women were between 20 and 24 than any other age group, and over 75% under 30. By 1940s standards, I am well and truly an old mother.I suspect on average we're also much older at doing other things too, like buying houses and getting married and the like. Of course we're also getting much higher education (my grandmother left school at 12) and not living through World Wars either. 

So the question remains: have we gained a decade? I'd like to think so. Among other reasons, as 40 approaches I'd much rather think of it as the new 30, rather than what it really is. I'd like to think that Cosmo had it right this time.