Book review: "Just Let Me Lie Down" by Kristin van Ogtrop

The deal I had been working on around the clock died unexpectedly this weekend, giving me some free time to catch up on my reading.  My (female) boss had loaned me a copy of Just Let Me Lie Down: Necessary Terms for the Half-Insane Working Mom.

It's been sitting on my desk for a few weeks, but the little Lego woman really did grab my attention, so I've been meaning to read it.

Anyhow, book has now been read.  Here are my thoughts:

1.  Someone took my life story and wrote it into a book.  There are superficial differences -- Ms. van Ogtrop has three boys and is the editor of Real Simple; I have two little girls and am a lowly lawyer -- but other than that, everything she wrote felt like someone FINALLY got my life.  Many parts I laughed out loud and read to my husband.  One of my favorite sections is:

Like most mothers, I have a bizarre and random list of mundane things that signal a loss of control in my life:

• My kids' fingernails are too long.
• There are dirty diapers piled on top of the Diaper Genie because they no longer fit inside.
• We have forgotten to take the recycling to the curb for three straight weeks.
• There is no more milk in the refrigerator.
• Four half-empty Gatorade bottles are rolling around on the floor of the car.

Four out of five of those points are literally true in my case.  Only difference is that we don't have Gatorade, just water bottles.  The Diaper Genie one really hit home!

2.  Another favorite passage, which I suspect will resonate with Idgie and spark some response from Mags, describes van Ogtrop's move from Manhattan to Brooklyn to the suburbs:

Fictional representations of the suburbs are all about people who are either crazy (Desperate Housewives, American Beauty), fairly boring or unbelievably stupid (Home Improvement, The Simpsons), or depressed and possibly about to kill themselves (Revolutionary Road, The Ice Storm, Far from Heaven, etc., etc., etc.).  Where are the movies about suburbanites who are normal, interesting, and of above-average intelligence?  I know these people exist; I am surrounded by them.  Which is not to say that morons and lunatics do not exist in the suburbs; just spend a day on the sidelines of a suburban soccer field and you witness adult behavior that will make your toes curl.  But for the most part the suburbs are populated by the same people who live in the city, except they own hedge trimmers and are 3 percent happier because they don't have to worry about alternate-side-of-the-street parking.

When we first moved to the suburbs and people at work asked me where I lived, I would say "the unmentionables," or I'd whisper the name of my town and stare at my feet.  There is no doubt that living in the suburbs is a marker of bourgeois desires, a suggestion that you are living the unexamined life and prefer it that way.  At least that's true for those in my profession.  But after thirteen years, I'm unapologetic enough about my choice that I actually feel a bit superior to most city dwellers of the nongazillionaire variety.  As it turns out, my husband and I have fairly pedestrian needs: a bed big enough to accommodate two tallish adults and occasional visiting children; a dog to greet us at the door at the end of a long day; a neighborhood safe enough that if we drive home from vacation late at night we can leave our luggage in the car until the morning -- in our own driveway! -- without fear of a break-in; a little yard where my kids can deposit soccer balls and lacrosse sticks and baseball bats and never have to worry about retrieving them unless forced to by one of their parents (which doesn't happen as often as it should).  The suburbs can offer us these things without tremendous stress or effort; the city cannot.  Hence my vague superiority: I am able to meet the pedestrian needs of my pedestrian family, all without spending four million dollars or charming a co-op board.

 3.  The only thing I can't say I loved about this book was the format.  The entire book takes the format of a dictionary, with little cutesy terms (e.g. "Absentee parenthood") beginning each anecdote.  I thought it was too contrived and would have preferred the format of Bossypants (review on that to come later) or Are You There Vodka?  It's Me, Chelsea, both of which just devote chapters to loosely related stories.  

Overall, I'd give it 4 out of 5 Ks.