Mrs. Fugate or Ms. Christine? The Etiquette Quandary

My mother was strict about etiquette. Table manners were of the utmost importance as were please, thank you and you’re welcome. Close friends of my parents were called by their first names; everyone else was Mr. or Mrs. [Last name]. When my first daughter was in utero, I knew I would follow many of the rules my mom did, having experienced adults who--how do I politely say--did not have the same etiquette training.

My only outstanding issue was what my kids would call other adults. I had a problem with the Mr. and Mrs. [last name] rule: I can’t remember people’s last names. Ever since I was a young adult, I have had last name blockage. Perhaps my brain is rebelling against authority figures, but it has continued in my own reign as an authority figure. (Before I belabor this point, let’s just recognize that these days I can barely remember anybody’s first name either.)

I decided to follow the protocol of my daughters’ Montessori school and have my kids address adults as Mr. or Miss [First Name]. This rule worked well and felt slightly Southern to me, although when my kids were three and four they usually addressed adults as So and So’s mommy or daddy.

Now that my kids are five and six, they are not only talking, they are full conversationalists who need proper introductions to adults. Thus the recent etiquette faux pas that sent me into a quandary: I was at the pool and met a cool new mom. I introduced her to my daughters as Ms. Melissa and she introduced me to her kids as Mrs. Fugate. I flushed with embarrassment. She was teaching her daughter formality, while I was teaching familiarity. Was her way more respectful? Had I failed as a mom to teach the proper manner in which to address adults?

I ran into a girlfriend at a birthday party and asked about her rules of introduction. “I usually do Ms. [First Name]. Although sometimes I try to follow the other mom’s cue,” she confessed.

“But then you have to wait for the other mom to ask first,” I responded, imagining a Seinfeld-esque situation where neither mom speaks, waiting for the other one to do introductions. “It becomes a chicken-egg situation, which one comes first. You say Mrs., she says Ms., and then you correct to Mrs. It becomes pure etiquette pandemonium with your kids completely confused.” We burst out laughing.

There was only one thing to do about this situation and that was to contact my friends at the Emily Post Institute. I caught up with Peter Post, author of Essential Manners for Couples: From Snoring and Sex to Finances and Fighting Fair – What Works, What Doesn’t and Why, who enlightened me on this situation. “Typically, it’s easiest to defer to the formal until someone tells you to do differently.”

“So, I should introduce my children to adults as Mrs. or Mr. [Last Name]?”

“Yes, and if the adult wants to be called by their first name, then he can correct your introduction by saying, no, please call me Peter, not Mr. Post. It is always easier to go from formal to less formal. This also gives kids a way of approaching the world in general.”

Wow. I knew this was the right answer but what to do about my last name blockage. Peter proposed, “You can also say, ‘I would like to introduce you to my daughter, how would like for her to address you?” A perfect solution.

I had one last question, whether to use Mrs. or Ms.? “If she is married, use Mrs. If she is single, divorced or you are not sure what’s going on, use Ms.”

This was harder for me to swallow. Wasn’t Ms. the correct way of addressing all women these days, married or not? Peter stood his ground with Mrs. “Etiquette is about putting people at ease and building relationships.”

I had a few decisions to make. To change my ways to the more formal would require my brain to work a little harder. And how would I have other children address me? I called my mom for some advice.

“You need to decide what you’re comfortable with,” she shared. “Your kids’ lives are easier if they know how to behave. It’s all about ‘civilizing.’

I sat down and had some chocolate to help me think. From now on, I would follow Peter’s advice and introduce my children to adults as Mr. or Mrs. As for me, I can’t decide between Christine and Lady Godiva (the chocolate one). They’re both so familiar.

In Search of Carol Brady

My house is as hot as an oven, the traffic sits in gridlock, and my kids are two time-outs away from being shipped off to boarding school. These signs can only mean one thing: The summer, as we know it in Laguna Beach, is almost over.

After this weekend, life returns to some semblance of ‘normal.’ Parking spots open up, the nights cool down and our children return to school. Thus, my anxiety begins. Still a back-to-school newbie with my daughters entering kindergarten and second grade, I began to panic about the whole backpack-homework-baby-leaving-the-house early last week.

Somehow the stars aligned and two tickets to the Pageant of the Masters Closing Gala arrived on my front door step. I felt barely capable of pulling my flip-flop-self together for such an event until I found out that Carol Brady (a.k.a. Florence Henderson) would be in attendance. I knew that the mother of “The Brady Bunch,” my favorite television show ever, would able to give me some solid advice on how to handle my back-to-school worries.

After dealing with a babysitter who bailed and a lack of dress shoes, I arrived at the Gala with my girlfriend in a pair of Famous Footwear flats ready to meet Florence. Not wanting to appear too eager or celebrity obsessed, I patiently waited my turn as she gave an interview to Entertainment Tonight and chatted with Eve Plumb, her Brady daughter Jan. Finally, my moment arrived.

“Carol,” I began, unaware of my nomenclature faux-pas, “How do we prepare for back-to-school with our kids?”

“Try to keep relaxed, positive and confident,” she answered, with that sweet comforting smile. “You need to make it fun, a new adventure for them.” That part I understood intellectually, but making it a reality was another story. I asked how she managed to do it all.

“There are three things that worked for me: I prayed a lot, took vitamin pills and had the organization skills of a General.” What I had assumed was now proven true: All those years of watching the Brady Bunch had not been a waste of time, but serious preparation for my career as a mother. Point by point confirmed my belief: I pray daily for patience and a large box of chocolates; eat vitamins and Motrin for breakfast; and consider organization to be its own religion. Plastic storage containers and wire baskets flashed before my eyes as I realized Florence was waiting for my next question.

I stuttered, trying to align my brain with the fact that Carol Brady was a character on a television show while Florence Henderson is a real person, a mother to four real children. “What about those of us who are trying to be Carol Brady?” I eeked out.

“Don’t,” Florence responded. “Mothers are the last to take care of themselves. We need to put ourselves first and make our health the number one priority. If we are in good health, then we are better mothers, better friends.”

I remembered that Florence had spoken openly about her battle with depression. She wasn’t rattling off some politically correct mommy-speak; her words came from her heart. As the Pageant of the Masters was about to begin, my time with idol Carol and new friend Florence sadly came to an end.

“Young at Heart” was this year’s Pageant theme with the cast consisting of almost a hundred children. Some of my favorite childhood pieces, such as “The Little Mermaid” by Edvard Eriksen and “The Dance Foyer” by Edgar Degas, were featured. My favorite was N.C. Wyeth’s “The Giant,” a portrait of six young children on the beach staring up at a giant in the clouds. I sat in awe of the beauty and, of course, how the children were able to stay so still and quiet.

Then I thought of Florence and realized that these tableau vivants (‘living pictures’ in French) were as about as real as “The Brady Bunch.” Each masterpiece is a well-executed production involving make-up, lighting, and stands that hold the children in place. Moms and dads waited backstage to take their kids home and tuck them into bed. There would be a few hours left to organize their back-to-school schedule, pay bills and catch some must-see TV.