Adoption by Robin Gorman Newman

My son has always known he's adopted.  Way before he was old enough to remotely comprehend, we advised him.  We wanted to make it a non-issue.

We met him at the hospital on day three of his life, and he's been with us ever since.  It was a domestic adoption.  We met the birthmother, but she would never reveal the birthfather.  We took photos of her and video.  We even went to the downtown area near where he was born, and shot video, so that one day, if/when the time came, we could make it available.  He would know his place of birth.

Seth is 8, and over the years, we've read fiction picture books about adopted animals, etc.  It's never been a big deal.  It's just his story, and we shared the story of others.  He never thought much of it.

I anticipated one day that he might show some curiosity, but in my mind, I couldn't predict when that might be.

Last week was the time...out of the blue, as I was driving the car..to be exact...with him in the back seat.  In between rounds of Pokemon on his Game Boy, he splurted out how he's the only adopted kid on the school bus.

I asked how he knew?

He said the other kids were talking about it.  That somehow it had come up.

It's always been hard to get a straight answer out of him at times...so I didn't quite comprehend how the subject of adoption was broached to begin with. Why would the kids initiate such a discussion?  Were they all talking about where they were born?

Seth knows he came from Illinois.

So...before I had a car accident, due to the shock of the discussion, I pulled over and attempted to calmly share.

I asked if it bothered him that he was adopted?

He said no.

I explained that not all parents tell kids they're adopted...for whatever reason.  So, perhaps some of the kids actually are adopted and don't know it.

He said..why wouldn't they tell them?  Because the parents think the kid might be sad?

I said that some parents might want to wait until a child is older to explain.

I asked are you sad?

He said, well it is kinda sad....to be given up.

I could see his point. 

I said we met your birthmother.  She was a nice lady, but couldn't take care of you.  She had three other children from another relationship, and couldn't afford another child.  She had no phone.  No car.  Barely a place to live.  We had given her some money for expenses.  She gave you up out of love.  She wanted you to have a better life than what she could provide.  She knew you deserved to live fully and was confident that your father and I would provide a loving, secure home.

We love you high as the sky, and always have.

I ran off a list of other adopted children we know...some of whom are friends of his...so that he could see he was in good company and perhaps didn't realize it.

Then I asked, after taking a deep breath...would you like to meet your birthmother one day?

And, he said yes.

I know he doesn't mean at this point in his life...but for the first time, it truly sunk in, that that day might come. For now, we don't know where she is.  It was not an open adoption.  But, we remain in touch with the adoption agency and each year send photos there for her, but we've been advised that she hasn't gotten them in recent years.  They surmise she has moved and didn't provide a forwarding address.  Was it on purpose? Or was it an oversight on her part?  We don't know, but I do know that if we have to track her down one day, we will do our best to find her, if it's important to Seth.

This discussion got me wondering what else Seth thinks about with regard to his becoming part of our family.  For the moment, I felt badly. I didn't want him to feel sad and unwanted.  That was certainly far from the truth.

I told him that adoption is an act of love on the part of the family adopting and the birthmother giving of her child to strangers who she is trusting with her precious baby. 

Perhaps some birthmothers don't love their children? I do believe that Seth was loved by her, and from that love sprung what I'm sure was not an easy decision, but something that she deemed necessary.

I tried to explain that to Seth.

I think he got it.

Time will tell.

But, what I do know is that I couldn't love him any more than I do.  And, I hope he feels the same about us...and in my heart, I believe that to be true.

Autonomy by Robin Gorman Newman

We received a notice in the mail today from Seth's daycamp.  They don't waste anytime trying to get you to sign on the dotted line for next summer.  This summer isn't even over...thankfully....and I certainly don't want to wish it away.

The flyer was an invitation for Seth, who enters third grade in the fall, to attend one week of sleepaway as part of his daycamp experience next year.  They make special arrangements for kids age 9 and up.

We asked Seth if he might like to do it, and he said he wasn't sure.  I could tell he was intrigued by the notion, but nervous at the same time.  He asked if there would be daddy long legs there.  I said there might be since the rooms are cabins, and the grounds are very rustic. Had to be honest.  He detests spiders.

Seth is growing up....quickly.  To imagine him on his own for a week is something that's a bit hard for me to swallow.  I know the day will come, if he chooses to attend, but how will the house feel without him?

As much as I get overwhelmed with his clutter of toys all over, laundry on the floor, empty drink containers, pee stained toilet seats, etc., I adore his company...well...most of the time. There are times when I need my own space, as anyone does.  But, he's generally an upbeat, kind kid who, yes, tires me out, but who makes me laugh and gives hugs like no other.

Would he like sleepaway?

We put him to bed now...and my husband lays with him most nights until he nods off.  We help him put on pajamas...yes he can do it himself...but he prefers not to.  We help him dress in the morning....sure he can pick out his own clothes and put them on, but he welcomes assistance.  We prompt him to brush teeth and pee before bedtime.  Would he do it on his own?  I imagine he'd mimic the other boys who would be in his bunk.  Would he come home a changed chlid?  Would he resume his old habits?  Would I miss it if he didn't?  It's nice to feel needed, but it's also good to know that, especially if we're in a rush, he can get himself prepared to leave the house.

Parenting is all about raising a child to go out into the world and embrace his autonomy.

We know we've done our job when we can send our child out there with confidence, strength, good values, street smarts, etc.

No parent lives forever, and later moms may have an even higher consciousness of this fact.  Though I don't dwell on it, I already know what it feels like to lose a parent...my mom....who never saw me become a mom.  So, I know all too well that the best you can do as a mother is to let your child know they'd be okay without you. I'm not suggesting you need to verbalize that, but rather instill in them a sense of security and inner peace to know they can conquer whatever lies ahead, and to embrace all that life has to offer, and to always hold the love of their parents in their heart, where it will never fade, whatever the future brings.

GUEST BLOG POST - Your Inner Vision by Rochelle Jewel Shapiro

I’m writing on my way to the hospital for my grandson’s birth. Sonograms have taken the thrill away from psychics like me for predicting gender. Still, good news is welcome from anywhere.

There’s so much I’d like to tell the soon-to-be parents, but I stay in their good graces by keeping my lips zipped unless asked, so if you have a few moments, I’d like to tell you what I’d tell them. Believe that your child is on his own special path to a bright future and hold fast to it, no matter what.

That’s just what I had been determined to do when my son was born, but once he started school, the bright vision I'd held for him became as blurry as a windshield streaked by worn wiper blades.

In pre-school, his teacher phoned to complain that he was noisy during transition. I chuckled. “You should have heard me screaming during transition when I was in labor with him,” I said. She didn’t chuckle back. Instead, she rattled off a list of complaints. He dumped sand in the water table and water in the sand table. He festooned the bathroom with toilet paper and hid so long in the closet that she almost went crazy until she found him.

She’s crazy, I thought.

But in elementary school, the complaints kept coming. He didn’t do his work in school and rarely turned in his homework. Though he read encyclopedias at home, he was in remedial reading at school. It must have been as exasperating for him as it was for me.

Once, in the middle of the day, the doorbell rang. I looked out the peephole. No one was there. The bell rang again. I opened the door. Charles, a second grader then, stood there in his snowsuit.

“What are you doing home?” I demanded.

“There was a substitute teacher,” he said and continued nonchalantly to the kitchen to pour himself some milk.

Despite having crossed major streets and risked being snatched by a pervert, he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. He moved to the beat of his own bongo drums.

I took him for hearing and eye tests. I took him to a neurologist, a psychologist, a learning disabilities specialist, a tutor. I gave him time-outs, took his favorite toys from his room, and cancelled play dates. Nothing helped. At home, he made costumes, clothespin figurines, strawberry carton towers scaled by plastic soldiers. He amassed a fund of knowledge about whales, the stars, and dinosaurs. At school, he only amassed poor grades and complaints. No matter what teacher he had, how stimulating the curriculum, he didn’t like tasks appointed by others. He wanted to do only what he decided upon.

My neighbors would say, I bet you just came home from your son’s school.” They weren’t psychic. They saw the tears in my eyes from hearing, “He’s such a nice boy, but…”

Then, when he was a junior in high school, he took a job in a local music store. There an angel in the form of a bratty rich girl turned his life around.

“CD Boy,” she’d say, snapping her fingers, “get me this. Ger me that.”

He figured if he didn’t buckle down in school, this would be his future—minimum wage and maximum scorn.

He managed to pick up his grades enough to get into a state school and while there, took a job in the outside world each semester to motivate himself to stay in school.

Today, he’s a well-respected, affluent financial advisor with family and friends who adores him. The moral, I guess, is that if your child isn’t doing well in school, don’t ever believe that he hasn’t a wonderful future. Get him the help he might need, but the biggest help you can give him is that no matter what his problem is, hold fast to your bright vision for him. It will come about somehow in ways you couldn’t have predicted..


Rochelle Jewel Shapiro, author of Miriam the Medium (Simon and Schuster), is a psychic who works by phone like her fictional character, Miriam. Shapiro’s psychic gifts have been written about in Redbook, The Jerusalem Post, Newsweek, The New Times (Lives), and more.  Visit her new site http://www.rochellejewelshapiro.com/  

 

Cyma Shapiro Chats with Terri Amos Brit, author, The Enlightened Mom

Q: What has been your greatest achievement as a mother?

A: My greatest achievement as a mother is the fact that I have healed my life and stopped the cycle of pain that is so often handed down from generation to generation in families. As a mom and a life coach, I've made it my life mission to heal and to help moms heal. And what I've seen from my own life and other moms making this decision is that when mom heals, the family heals. Where there was once judgment, blame, frustration and resentment, mom's healing creates greater communication, acceptance, joy, playfulness and unconditional love in the home. I am so thankful I discovered this years ago to set this tone for my family.

Q: What has been your greatest failure?

A: I don't feel a sense of failure as a mom. If I could change anything, however, it would have been to heal my life before I became a stepmom to my late husband's son. I didn't like how I was with him. That's when I made a decision to heal. I didn't like that I felt angry and overwhelmed all of the time when he was with us. On the other hand, if I had not had that experience, I would not have stepped into my life mission. With that said, I don't feel like I was a failure at all. It is only when I don't look within and learn what is causing my pain in the first place that I feel like a failure.

Q: As Mother's Day approaches, many women find this to be a soul-searching time of year. In many instances, their introspection reveals self-doubt, unhappiness, and a feeling that they are "falling short" as mothers. How would you counsel them?

A: To stop trying to perform for your family because when you do, you set the example for them to feel as if they have to perform, too. I would encourage every mom to accept her humanness and know that she is not responsible for making others happy. Happiness is a choice we make by going within and connecting to our hearts. The greatest gift a mom can give her family is to stop performing, being an example to her family to find the love within. This is true abundance.

Q: Your book, "The Enlightened Mom," was written after years of your own unhappiness as a woman, wife and mother. Can you share some insights about the path which led you to this?

A: I spent my life trying to be "the best" at everything. I thought I had to "act" certain ways, always trying to win people's approval. And I got a lot of it. But with each achievement I received an award that was given to me, I felt something was missing. Even in that moment of winning Miss USA 1982, I felt emptiness. My ego said, "Yes!" but my spirit asked, "Is this it?" I thought getting other people's approval was love. But in that moment, I began to realize that something wasn't quite right. I continued this search for love in the TV industry as well, but always failed. It wasn't until I became a mom and struggled, always trying to do things right and be 'the best," that I began to realize that the search outside of myself for love and acceptance was causing me great pain. I lived by a set of rules that told me how I "must be" to receive love and I was putting those rules onto my family. I found myself controlling, angry, frustrated and often wanting to run for the hills. I truly couldn't stand myself. Then I made a decision to heal. It was here that I discovered the source of my pain: I was denying myself. In my effort to be "the best" and seek others' love and approval, I was disconnecting from my heart. This disconnection is what creates pain and suffering. When I made a decision to end the pain and heal, I discovered that the anger and negativity I felt as a mom and those knee-jerk reactions I hated so much were actually gifts. They were red-flags telling me that I had disconnected from my heart and wasn't honoring and loving the way I was created. By allowing my pain to guide me to the false beliefs that were in my subconscious mind that told me how I "must be" to gain others' love, and by releasing those beliefs and giving myself permission to just be me, I stopped the cycle of pain that had been handed down from previous generations.

Q: It's interesting that by trying to "be the best” mother, you've identified that the journey often denies you - the caretaker and mom - your own needs, wants and desires. Do you find this to be endemic to women, in general, or mothers, in specific?

A: Because mom sets the tone, women tend to take on the roles of their mothers. So even though a woman might not be a mom, she may still play the caretaker.

Q: You've utilized your strengths as an energetic healer and spiritual consultant as the basis for your own personal work, and the resultant help you offer others. How might you counsel women to find their own strengths in this area?

A: I believe that finding a way to look within is the key to connecting to your inner wisdom and strength. For some women, this may mean meditating, and for others it may mean journaling or exercising alone in nature. It is up to each woman to discover what is right for her. But once she finds what resonates with her heart, she creates a pathway to that wisdom and strength. For me, I do all of the above. I know that if I am feeling anything but joy and love, it is time for me to create a connection within. Depending on what time of day it is and how I feel, I choose the tool that works best for me.

Q: What daily practices do you employ to affirm and take care of yourself?

A: I LOVE to meditate! And I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to write to connect to my heart.

Q: What are some of the tips you offer women to help maintain themselves?

A: Accept your humanness. It's the most loving thing we can do as women, and to nurture and love the little child within. By creating communication with the five-year-old inside of you, you discover what's right for you. You open up to compassion for yourself by loving this little kid. She is your heart, your greatest messenger of all.

Q: Having spent so many years striving and often reaching lofty personal and professional goals before becoming new older mothers, and finding their crowning achievement, as mothers, to be less than they had hoped, many women feel the angst of "not good enough" more acutely than some of their younger counterparts. What tips can you offer this group, in particular?

A: It is never too late to begin loving and forgiving yourself, because as you find inner abundance, you will still be an example of love and healing for your family. I work with women in their 70's, and these are some of the most remarkable women because they have such wisdom to share and at the same time continue to evolve and heal. What a gift they are!

Q: How important do you find religion, spiritual practices, or forms of exercise/meditation/other modalities to keeping yourself "in check?"

A: I find my spiritual practice is THE most important thing I can do for myself, as well as for my family. It is when I maintain this kind of connection that I am the most joyful, loving person I can be.

Q: Finally, what one gift can you offer mothers this Mother's Day?

A: You are of value. Most moms don't believe they matter. But you do. Everything about you is important. When you finally make a decision to release the beliefs that tell you this isn't so and finally love and honor the way you were created, you will be a tremendous light for all those you love. It's not what we do for our families, but how we live our lives that affects them the most!

Terri Amos Britt is a spiritual life coach, bestselling author, and expert on the “Law of Attraction.” After overcoming her own serious anger management issues, Terri spent the last 12 years not only healing her own life, but helping women all over the world heal theirs through her inspirational newsletters and books. She is the author of her newest book, The Enlightened Mom, her previous book Message Sent: Retrieving the Gift of Love, and she co-authored the books A Juicy, Joyful Life and Wake Up Women. Terri is a columnist for Aspire magazine, an online magazine for women. She can be found @ http://www.theenlightenedmom.com/

GUEST BLOG POST: 86400 - Mothering on Purpose by Lavaille Lavette

Because you entered the sorority of motherhood later than most, you probably thought you understood how having a child would change your life. Yet whatever preconceived notions you had probably did not encompass all the alterations to your lifestyle that came with the arrival of your bundle of joy.

My “bundle” arrived several years ago in the form of my six-year-old brother who came to live with me. Not only did I have to confront the unique challenges of motherhood, but I also had to deal with the trauma of having a first grader who was already set in his ways. It was the perfect storm, and it engulfed me.

Whether your child arrived as a six pounder or first grader, chances are the old you soon went missing in action.

Motherhood can be all-consuming. By nature, it is a 24/7 occupation. Mothers new and old often share their testimonies of how they learn the true meaning of unconditional love by being there for their children each moment of each day. Another maternal experience is just as common but not as readily aired in public —the feeling that you are losing yourself to your role as mom.

The incredible amount of multi-tasking mothering requires is daunting if you stop to think about it, but we don’t pause for reflection. At dawn each day, we dive into our various roles: concierge, short-order cook, medic, caterer, chauffer, counselor, life coach, detective, mediator, psychologist, referee, meteorologist, personal assistant, defense attorney, proxy, CEO, CFO, CIO, judge, jury, and… you get the picture. Under the load of this abnormal job description we take for granted, it’s easy for us to get out of sync with our own personal calling, goals and desires.

Sure people say motherhood is one of the most rewarding of all professions, but you are still a unique being. You have, with skills and passions that extend beyond your role as mom—and that’s okay. When you connect with your purpose beyond parenthood, you can be a better parent.

How can you rediscover passions seemingly lost to the duties of motherhood? By managing your purpose, rather than managing your time. For years, life coaches have taught that to get the most out of each day, you have to manage your time better. Problem is, each day offers us only 86400 seconds, a finite number that not even “super moms” can change. Purpose, however, is infinite, expansive and dynamic. You have a better chance of being all you can be if you manage the limitless than you do if you manage the limited.

Purpose involves combining your passions, skills and talents with the unique call placed on your life. Purpose management, then, requires that you continually engage in activities relevant to fulfilling your purpose. It challenges you to use the precious gift of those 86400 seconds each day to live your passion, achieve your goals and become all you were created to be. While time management focuses on the quantity of activity, purpose management focuses on the quality. For the multi-tasking mom, anything that offers more bang for the buck is a worthy investment.

Here are three tips to help you rediscover your purpose by tapping into values mothers already have in abundance.

Purpose Management Value: Imagination
Imagination is our middle name. Moms apply it liberally – to get their children to complete their homework, to resolve disputes, to handle schedule interruptions and to juggle any number of other tasks. Imagination is the doorway to purpose because when we look at life through creative eyes, we can see hidden opportunities.. Imagination takes you places where your mind normally would dare not venture. Yet, in those places, you can discern your best self, your deepest passions and your reason for being. So, why not direct the power of imagination toward living and managing your purpose?


Tip One: Keep a “Purpose Vision Journal”
Dedicate 15 to 30 minutes each day to keeping a Purpose Vision Journal. Write a detailed description of the “you” that you want to rediscover. Add to this vision daily, supplementing your words with pictures and images that drive the point home. If you do it consistently, this simple exercise can be powerfully life altering.


Purpose Management Value: Dedication
Dedication is many things: dogged devotion to a purpose; delayed gratification for future accomplishments and a can-do spirit that will not allow you to quit. We are dedicated mothers, spouses, and employees, but often we fail to dedicate ourselves to our own well-being. Nothing is more damaging to our mind/body/spirit health than living “off purpose.” You have a responsibility to yourself—and those you love—to dedicate time to developing and living your passions.


Tip Two: Plan Your Work (Create Your Purpose Roadmap)
After you paint the vision of your purpose-filled life, list the steps you must take to bring your vision to fruition. It is said that a wish is a goal without a plan. You can do more than wish for a new reality; you can create one by planning your journey. Many people fail to take this simple step. Those who do, however, dramatically increase their chances of reconnecting to their purpose.


Purpose Management Value: Courage
It takes courage to be a mother, and so does living your purpose/passion. It might be frightening to admit you have a purpose beyond parenting. That’s why most mothers, at some point in their journey, feel a deep regret that they did not devote more time to living their own dreams. Not that you should abandon your motherly duties, but you must acknowledge that you are a multi-faceted human being.


Tip Three: Work Your Plan
As you continue to sharpen your vision and plan your work, your next step is to act on your goals. Empowered by your vision and armed with your plan, you can work your plan. As simple as it sounds, this is the step most people omit. Nothing happens unless you act.. The comforting thing is that the journey gets easier with each step, just as it did when your bundle of joy learned to walk.

If you follow these tips and apply these values, you will find new purpose and energy for the tasks of mothering and for the passions that drive you. You will be able to give more of yourself and get more out of your 86400 each day.

Lavaille Lavette has worked as a schoolteacher, school district administrator, speechwriter, international business development specialist, and radio host. Lavaille is cofounder of Every Child an Author, an organization on a mission to make every child in America a published author, one grade level at a time! (everychildanauthor.com) As part of Lavaille’s 86400 Movement, “Making a Difference, Being the Difference,” she formed the 86400 Book Club for the homeless in partnership with The Bread of Life Ministry. The 86400 Book Club’s goal is to encourage men and women to read for enjoyment, enlightenment, and self-improvement.

Lavaille has served on the board of directors of the Greater Houston Convention and Visitors Bureau, Foxshire Foundation, the Just Help Foundation, and Aspiring Youth Foundation. Beyond her work in community engagement, nonprofit, and education spheres, she is also the creator and author of the children’s book series The Adventures of Roopster Roux. Lavaille’s previous book is with Grammy Award–winning singer Yolanda Adams, entitled Points of Power.

Money! by Robin

The oddest thing happened this past weekend.

My senior dad was staying with us since his live-in aide went home.

It began with Friday night.

Seth had a baseball game, and Marc took him.  My dad and I went to the diner for dinner.  Nearly done with the meal, he suddenly realized he couldn't find his car keys, and it turned into a frantic search. We turned the booth upside down.  looked on the floor. In the bathroom.  You name it.  They were not to be found.

We then turned my car inside out, and still no trace.

Back home, we searched my garage, driveway, etc.  No keys.

I drove back to the diner while my dad once again searched inside and alerted the entire staff (and probably some diners) to his dilimena.  I was left circling the parking lot as I waited, since there was no place to park.  The valet guys probably thought I was crazy.

Upset and frustrated, we returned home.  Suddenly, it occurred to me to ask my dad if he had a hole in his pocket.  I suggested he shake his pant leg to see if we heard any jangling.  Sure enough, that's exactly what had happened.   They keys had fallen through to his lining, and they were floating around by his ankle.

Mystery solved. 

It showed me that my dad is capable of misplacing something. I realize we all are, but I always found him to be very buttoned-up and detail-minded.  But, perhaps with age, this is a newfound development.  Although certainly it could happen to anyone.

Fast forward to Saturday night.  Seth comes to Marc and I to share that he found a 100 dollar bill under his bed. 

My initial response was disbelief.  Can I see it? I asked.  He didn't want to show it to me, but then he did.  I couldn't imagine where this came from.  Marc and I thought perhaps our cleaning woman had dropped it, though I knew she never cleaned with her waller or pocketbook nearby.  So, that didn't make sense.

Fast forward to Monday.  My dad went into his wallet to pay me for some groceries I had purchased for him. He said he couldn't find a 100 bill he had in his wallet.

Oh my G-d, I thought.  Is that the 100 dollars Seth had found?  How exactly did he get it?

I told my dad that Seth had a 100 bill, and we couldn't understand where he had gotten it from. I took it from Seth's wallet and gave it to him.

My dad swore he didn't drop it from his wallet.  That he hadn't gone into his wallet except to take out a credit card, which is in another section.

Did this mean then that Seth invaded my dad's wallet and took out the 100 dollars?  And, why would he do that?

I was beside myself.

I was out for most of Monday when this surfaced, so Marc broached it with Seth Monday night.  It was a hard, yet delicate discussion.  Marc wasn't quite sure how to handle it at first.  He asked his mom for her opinion.  And even consulted his brother who has three sons.  Ultimately, he used the opportunity to share a very important lesson with Seth.  How you should return something that isn't yours, if you're able.  And, that certainly, you should never take money, without permission, from another person.

Seth said he didn't take it from my father's wallet.  And, we didn't want to accuse him of it with no proof.

So, for now, we believe him, though underneath it all, I have to admit, I'm not quite sure what to think.

I believe my dad when he says he didn't drop it.

And, I've never before seen Seth take money.  Of course there's always a first.   But, he'd have to know  that's not something you should do.  Wouldn't he?  We try hard to instill in him a sense of responsibility. But, he is 7.  Maybe he's testing his limits?

I'm sad either way.  I don't want to think of my dad as becoming careless in his old age.  And, I don't want to think of Seth as untrustworthy.

I hope at least that Seth took away an important life lesson from it.

Sacrifice - by Robin

I just have share and vent...so please bear with me.

My husband and I went to an open house this week at Seth's school.  It was a preview of the forthcoming after school program being launched in our district next fall.  We are looking forward, and plan to enroll Seth in a number of days.

It's good for him.  The program offers socialization.  They engage them in activities, etc.  And, he'll have a chance, if they enroll, to spend more time with some of his school buddies.

The open house offered parents the opportunity to ask questions.  We came with our share, mostly relating to things like...what activities will be done with the children....will they encourage that homework get done...will they serve snacks, etc.

As we were preparing to leave, I couldn't help but overhear the discussion another mom was having with one of the program facilitators.  And, I was appalled....and found myself saying something under my breath...and then voiced it.  Not sure the mom heard me or paid attention...which I guess is best.  She would not have liked what I had to say.

The mom was discussing with the facilitator what to do with her daughter if she's sick?  Clearly, her hope/intent was that her daughter would attend the before/after school program even if she's not well.  She was complaining how they now have live-in help and want to get rid of them.  But, what to do if her daughter takes ill?  As if this program would be the solution.

What does she think? That this program is an infirmary?

No wonder so many kids pick up illness from others in the classroom.  It's moms like this who send them to school regardless, no doubt, because they need them out of the house.

The program facilitator politely explained that this isn't a full day program, so that she'd still need to find care for her daughter during normal school hours, if she wasn't able to be in class.

The mom looked upset.  And, I thought..what is she?  Delusional?  Or just plain selfish?   I made a quick comment in passing...."Would you have your daughter infect other kids in school?"

Of course that's not her intent, but she wasn't being thoughtful either.

And, I thought to myself....isn't that part of what being a parent is?  Sacrifice.  If you work fulltime and your child takes ill, someone has to stay home with them, and it might need to be you.

And, if you're a SAHM, and your child gets sick, yes, you're already home, but whatever you had on your schedule for that day or week (depending on the nature of the illness) goes out the window.  And, caretaking takes precedence. That's just the way it is.

I know it's not always easy, but isn't that how it should be?!

Should a sick child be roaming the halls of a school?

Do some become parents without understanding the role of caretaker that comes with it?

Or are they just so spoiled by receiving help from others that they don't want to dirty their hands if their child is under the weather?

Some don't have someone to turn to.  Some can't afford nannies.  Some don't have family help.  How do they cope?  They just do.

Ultimately, as moms, we need to rely on ourselves, as it's often the woman who plays the primary caretaker role.

We need to rise to occasion, however inconvenient,  and act respectfully toward other families who keep their children home so their germs don't spread like wildfire.

Planting a Child - by Cara

I must start off by confessing my guilt over the past five years.

Every Mother’s Day since the first Mother’s Day after my son was born, I have not wanted flowers. I have not wanted jewelry. I have not wanted dinner out at a fancy restaurant. I have not wanted anything but for someone to take my child away and care for him for as much of Mother’s Day as possible. That’s all. And for those of you who are gasping, I will explain.

From birth, my son has been probably the most challenging child ever born. And every day, for 364 days of the year, I would be the sleep deprived Mom of a highly energetic and creative baby and toddler. So, come Mother’s Day, all I would ask of my husband would be to take our son to visit his Grandmother, take him to a park, take him anywhere, but, please, take him out of the house for as long as possible! And my husband always obliged. I would relish those one days a year! I would mostly catch up on much needed sleep or read a book or check the 251 e-mails in my inbox. None of my friends ever understood. They would call to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day and ask what I would be doing for the day and I would reply, truthfully, “nothing.” I would then explain that I wanted a day of “nothing” for Mother’s Day. To fill up the pregnant pause that always came, I would quickly change the subject to find out what they would be doing and wish them a wonderful Mother’s Day.

Now, this year is going to be different. Quite different. Since my husband doesn’t like to spend much time in our home, on the weekends he takes our son to do various activities and spend downtime at his mother’s house. I don’t get to see much of my son many weekends, unless my husband is travelling or I have a specific event for my son and I to go to.

This year, I want my son all to myself for Mother’s Day!! For the past few weeks, we have been nurturing seedlings on our window sills into nice hardy plants that are ready for the outdoors! I also attended a plant sale at my son’s school, where I met my son and we picked out more beautiful plants! And, true to my son’s personality, he had to make an announcement to his entire class that I was there to pick out plants with him! He was so proud to have me there! I was gushing like a schoolgirl who had a crush! My son loves me and wanted everyone to know it!! My heart melted!

So this year, Mother’s Day is going to be a splended day of bonding with my son while planting flowers and vegetables! The weather is predicted to be pleasant, so I am looking forward to digging in the dirt with my son! And I know while we are digging, we will inevitably find an earthworm that my compassionate son will befriend and want to have live in the house with us. And he will name him “Wormy.” And I will be completely in the moment of being in the presence of my son, planting and talking about everything and nothing. And I will enjoy every second with my child! Just like nurturing the seedlings on our window sill, young ones need special care and tending to. And as they outgrow their containers, you have to take them from their safe environments and plant them somewhere else. Then you have to watch them grow! Grow bigger and stronger and able to take on the elements! They will still need tending to. But they must learn to continue growing on their own. And with a little luck, these plants will thrive under your care.

As much as I didn’t want to spend Mother’s Day with my son all these years, I must have done something right the other 364 days of the year! I tended to my son so carefully when he was young, at the expense of taking care of my own needs. And when my son was ready, I sent him out into the world to see how he would do, always in the background in case he needed tending to. But my son flourished! Now he is growing rapidly in every direction! He needs to be “pruned” a little now and then, but he is weathering his own elements. He knows I am always there to tend to him. But, day by day, I am letting him flourish in his own garden! He is still a young plant and needs me to care for him. But he is also showing me how he has been able to take on his own elements successfully!

I am so in love with and completely amazed at what good parenting can produce! The best complement he could have ever given me was to announce to his class that I was there to help him pick out plants! There were other parents at the plant sale. But, my son needed to let the world know that I was there for HIM!! I will ALWAYS be there for my son. We’ve come a long way in 6 1/2 years. But ,I love this child like crazy. And no matter how little time we sometimes get to spend with one another, I know how much we love each other.

I am anxious to see what type of plant my son does become! But, I’m not so anxious that I want the time we have together to fly by. I’m content to sit back, nurture, prune and watch my son slowly grow. And from now on, Mother’s Day is going to become, “Mommy and Me” day!! I don’t want flowers, nor jewelry, nor eating in a fancy restaurant. The only thing I want is my son. Just him and him alone. Along with some seedlings ready to plant throughout the day! And also finding a worm and naming him, “Wormy.”

I dedicate this blog to my incredible son! You are my moon, the sun and the stars above! I love you, Sweetheart!!

The Back-Up Plan - by Jamie

Lately, the subject of single mothers by choice has been all over the media because of a movie that recently came out, starring Jennifer Lopez, in which her character becomes pregnant with the help of an anonymous sperm donor, only to fall in love with Mr. Right immediately afterwards. I haven’t seen the movie, and, as a “real” single mother by choice, I’ll never have the time to see it, but I have viewed some of the recent TV news stories and discussions about it. And while it’s nice to have a celebrity like J-Lo showing single women that they do have options, I can’t say this movie is anything like my life—nor is “back-up plan” an appropriate term for the process by which I came to have Jayda.

I never pictured myself as a single mom; but then again, I didn’t always picture myself as a mom, period. Unlike some of my friends who were always talking about having babies during their 20s and 30s, I said things like, “I’ll have kids if I marry a guy who I know will be a great dad, and who really wants to have kids,” but I wasn’t obsessed with being a mother at all. I wasn’t even comfortable around children, and didn’t think they liked me very much. In fact, before I had Jayda, I’d never changed a diaper, and could count on the fingers of one hand how many babies I’d actually held. And yet, as soon as the nurses put my newborn child on my chest, I knew I was put in this world to be Jayda’s mom and care for her.

There was a point in my mid-30s when I had an epiphany and realized that I’d be incomplete if I never had a child, and that I’d just been suppressing my desires for fear of never meeting Mr. Right. I was flooded with maternal feelings and became baby-obsessed almost overnight. It took a lot of thought and planning to have Jayda (as well as plenty of drugs and monitoring and money, since I didn’t get pregnant on the first try like J-Lo’s character did in her movie), and I can hardly allude to the process as a back-up plan. “Back-up” to me implies second-best, and having Jayda was an ideal plan for me, because I can’t imagine my life without my amazing daughter in it. Unlike J-Lo’s character, I didn’t find Mr. Right while I was pregnant (though I did date during the first two trimesters), and I still haven’t found him now that Jayda is about to turn three. But that doesn’t trouble me at all, and I hate the implication that a woman “needs” a man to be a good mother. Or that having a husband is always the ideal “plan.”

Most of my friends did find their Mr. Rights before they had children—or at least they found someone whom they thought was the man they’d be with forever—and I can’t say their lives are all better than mine. A few of my friends are going through nasty divorces now—and are battling over custody issues. Several others actually married someone as their “back-up plan”—fully knowing the man wasn’t exactly what they wanted or needed in their lives—but rushed to settle down because they felt their clocks were ticking. Those friends (and their spouses) are all pretty miserable. And then there are my friends who are happily married (or at least appear to be), but just about all of them admit that having a husband is a lot of work, and they’re forced to divide their attention between their children and their man. There’s nothing wrong with that—and I know having a good husband is a worthwhile investment—but I can’t say that these women’s children are thriving more than mine is…or that the moms are so much happier than I am. We’re all just experiencing life the way it happened to us…and most of us are realizing that you can’t plan everything, especially when it comes to being a mom. Plan A…Plan B. What’s the difference? Life is what we make of it—and just because our lives aren’t as we always pictured them, doesn’t mean they’re second-best. Mine certainly isn’t. It isn’t movie-perfect, either, but I don’t really know anyone whose life is.

Like Riding a Bicycle - by Cara

My 6 1/2 year old son learned how to ride a bicycle without training wheels for the first time this past week! I must give all of the credit to my “husband” who worked with my son almost every nice day after school. I was unable to physically participate due to an injured rib (a long story). My husband runs between 5 - 10 miles each day, so he was physically able to run next to my son. At first, my husband would hold the seat, next he kept his arms out in case my son wobbled. Finally he ran next to my son, coaching him on how to use the brakes!

I’m so proud of my son! More importantly, my son is so extremely proud of himself! He would come into the house with his red, rosy cheeks and report to me how he didn’t even wobble once! Or that Daddy didn’t have to keep his arms out to catch him anymore! You could tell my son was beaming with enthusiasm! Every day there was another small accomplishment to describe with confidence and self-satisfaction!

I can remember back to the days when I learned to ride my own bicycle (those were the days before bicycle helmets, knee pads, and elbow pads!). My father took off the training wheels and ran behind me, holding onto the seat. I seem to remember catching onto bike riding with only 2 wheels pretty quickly. I was off! Wind blowing through my hair, streamers fluttering in the wind off the ends of my handle bars! The requisite bicycle bell, and a pretty pink basket tied to the front of the handle bars! Most of all, though, I can remember feeling that riding a 2 wheel bicycle was one significant step towards autonomy! In my childhood days, once you were able to ride a 2 wheel bicycle, the world was your oyster! You could ride to a friend’s house several blocks away and knock on their door to see if they could come out and play (they were not bogged down learning algebra or statistics in those days!), and if they were free, the two of us would find streets with hills or curves! We were learning to master riding our bicycles! It’s a shame that life for children is not the same as it was 40 years ago (was it REALLY that long ago?).

But back to my son...he has nothing else to compare his riding experience to, so he is enjoying every moment of his own new-found autonomy! He is knocking on friend’s doors, along with my husband. My husband then becomes the “chaperone” for the two young riders! I am grateful that my husband sends me video clips so that I will have this milestone event caught digitally to be watched for years to come! And photos taken with my son holding up his bicycle without training wheels!
The smile on this little boy’s face is priceless!

Once my injury heals a little more, I too would like to resume my own exercise regimen. I love to walk long distances and alternate with yoga.
And now that the weather has been mostly cooperating, I am sure that I can slowly work up to the vigorous workouts I still remember so vividly.
I long for the days when I would get up early and walk at least 3 miles before going to work! It energized me and made me a much more productive employee! Even exercise classes taken at night would never “rev me up.”
I used to sleep like a brick those nights after a workout.

So, perhaps getting my body back into the exercising “mode” may not be too difficult, even after years of being a “slug.” I guess it will be like riding a bicycle; Once you master the technique, you never forget how to ride!

The Sweet Life -- by Jamie

When I was a child, I was a terrific eater; my mom often relates her memories of me gnawing on a lamb chop when I only had a couple of baby teeth in my mouth. And throughout my youth, I always loved to eat—both good foods and bad-for-me foods—as evidenced by my baby fat, which lingered far longer than it should have, well into my adolescence.

As an adult, I’ve embraced healthful eating by balancing a diet of lean proteins, whole grains, and lots of veggies and fruits, with an occasional sugar binge when I can’t ignore my ever-present cravings. I DO love sugar, but try to avoid it as much as possible. My daughter, Jayda, however, is a toddler, and has no self-control: Though I do allow her all kinds of treats—in moderation—she begs for cookies at 6 a.m. (as well as throughout the rest of the day!), and for ice cream every time she hears the music from the truck. She’s also the pickiest eater I know; aside from our shared love of sugar, her eating habits are nothing like mine. And it’s so frustrating.

When Jayda was a baby, she ate all of the vegetables I put in front of her; as a toddler, she refuses to consume any of them. Oddly enough, the only veggie she’ll willingly nibble on is an artichoke, but I think her pleasure mostly comes from emulating me (I’m an artichoke fanatic), and eating with her fingers—not from the taste of the artichoke, itself. The teachers at Jayda’s day care insist that my daughter likes the veggies they serve there once a week, but I suspect she’s just eating them because all of her friends are. Because when other kids are not around, it’s nearly impossible for me to even sneak veggies into Jayda’s diet. Sometimes, as a treat, I’ll give her a can of V8 V-Fusion, which combines vegetables with sweet fruit juice. I also bake low-fat zucchini/carrot bread on occasion—but I have to call it “pumpkin bread,” or my daughter, who insists she hates carrots, will refuse to try it (though, remarkably, when she perceives it as pumpkin bread, she’ll devour slices of it). But my creative solutions end there: Jayda won’t eat pasta with red sauce (so I can’t puree vegetables and hide them in the sauce, as many people have suggested), and she won’t consume anything green, no matter what I douse it in.

Similarly, when it comes to protein, Jayda’s not a fan. She’ll eat rotisserie chicken once in awhile, but nothing else. No hamburgers or hot dogs, nor any kind of meat. No fish or shellfish. Not even chicken fingers (which, secretly, I’m pleased about). And pizza? She takes the cheese off, chucks it, and simply eats the crust. She’s also the only kid I know who rarely enjoys macaroni and cheese. Cheese sticks? Never. Eggs? Sometimes she’ll scarf down a scrambled one on a Sunday morning…but most other times, she’ll turn up her nose. Fortunately, she does like yogurt, and Greek yogurt is a staple in my home. Sometimes, I mix it with a sprinkle of Splenda, generously smear it on bread, and call it “cream cheese.” Jayda always asks for seconds. Other times, I serve Greek yogurt and a bowl of fruit for Jayda’s evening meal. When I was pregnant with Jayda, I secretly worried about cooking family dinners. I’m no Martha Stewart and I stressed over the idea of producing hot balanced meals for both of us every night. Little did I know I’d have nothing to worry about; Jayda eats somewhat nutritiously, but not because I’m cooking nutritious meals for her.

Lately, I’ve been buying “Pure Protein” ready-made shakes; they come in a can, and I pour about 1/3 of the contents into Jayda’s sippy cup of milk and call it “chocolate milk.” She consumes about 15 grams of protein in several swigs, and both of us are satisfied. She also likes to take bites of the protein bars I eat after my work outs—and has even devoured a Balance Gold bar (also 15 grams of protein) all by herself after an active day at the playground.

I believe I’ve been fairly creative in seeking out healthy food choices for Jayda, because left to her own devices, my daughter would survive on cookies, candy, ice cream, and bread. Oh, and fruit, too (she loves every kind—which isn’t surprising considering her raging sweet tooth). But dining out is a complete nightmare; no matter what I order for her, Jayda just eats the dinner rolls that are put on the table, or worse—the French fries that come with her entrée. So, I’m forced to always bring a healthy, protein-packed selection of snacks with us wherever we go. While other kids are given potato chips to munch on with their sandwiches, in lieu of the sandwich (that Jayda won’t eat), I give my daughter what we call “chips”—a bag of Glenny’s Soy Crisps (low fat, high fiber, and 9 grams of protein in a bag). They’re delicious and nutritious—though a rather unconventional choice for a meal.

My daughter is healthy, active, and isn’t overweight. But her eating habits stink. And I often wonder if I’m doing Jayda damage by turning her into a perpetual snacker, and allowing her to eat so many sweet foods (even if they are healthy ones). Grazing is supposed to be healthy for adults…but is it a positive habit for a kid to develop? I have no idea. All I know is that I want my daughter to thrive nutritionally, to always enjoy her food, and that mealtimes should never be a battle for us; and for now, I’m sticking to those rules. I have too many other things to worry about!

T.G.I.M. (Thank God It's Monday) -- by Gina

You’ve heard of T.G.I.F… the well-worn battle cry of the 9-to-5 crowd? Well, I actually found myself this Monday morning thinking, and actually saying out loud to my co-worker, “Thank God its Monday!”

Of course, I started the weekend off like any other Monday to Friday office worker, looking forward to the weekend.

Friday after work was a quick bite with my husband and daughter, then off to shop for shoes for Gianna. Her 3-year old body is outgrowing clothes and shoes at a stupefying rate. I had so many things to do that weekend I figured it best to squeeze it in Friday evening.

Three shoe stores later, we arrived home weary and exhausted, and way too late, even for a weekend night. My neck and back were killing me; I realized it was from bending over lacing and unlacing many pairs of size 9, 10 and 11 sneakers (including ultra-cool Hannah Montana extreme high-tops, which after all the lacing and unlacing – you guessed it - didn’t even fit!)

After pizza, and what I foolishly thought would be a quick stop in to Toys R Us (HA! Did I mention it was a “sale day” and the line was longer than it is on Black Friday?), we headed to my niece’s ice skating party. My husband (thankfully) picked up my 3-year old so I could be just “Aunt Gina” and not “Mommy” for the rest of the afternoon.

After fighting traffic and getting slightly lost, we arrived at the indoor skating rink, tired but excited. My sister had assured me that I did not need to ice skate; there were going to be instructors there for those kids who have never skated, and none of the parents were going to be skating. I laced her skates up, headed for the ice, then waved over a coach who said it was too busy for him to spend more than a minute with her. Alissa, brave as she was, stayed on the ice, clutching the side of the rink and inching her way slowly and carefully around, while I followed along with her on the other side of the plexiglass, bumping into metal bleachers, giving her a thumbs up, and shouting, “You’re doing great! I’m so proud of you!” In an angry voice, she yelled through the glass, “Why can’t you go get ice skates and come help me!?” How could I explain there was no way I was getting my 41-year old feet into ice skates? Especially as her friend Valerie’s mom, (a 20-something tall, thin, blond), went gliding over to Valerie, took her hand, and skated off with her. My niece was glaring at me as I blurted, “But your mom said the parents didn’t have to skate!”

Then I noticed the poor child’s frozen little hands (apparently everyone knows you have to wear gloves when you go ice skating.) Not only because its cold, but as another mom shared with me, “We went to a skating party where a kid got his finger sliced off.” Great – that’s all I needed to hear as I quickly ushered Alissa off the ice, consoling, “You did great for a first time! I think its time to go back to the party room for cake!”

By this time, my niece is crying that her feet hurt too much to walk the long walk back to the skate rental counter to get her shoes. I took her skates off and, feeling sorry for her, (and guilty that I hadn’t donned skates, jumped onto the ice and helped her), I carried her back to the skate rental piggy-back style (I don’t know which was worse: carrying a 50 pound child on my already sore back, or her frozen little hands crushing my windpipe as she clutched onto my neck.)

Arriving home exhausted, I rested briefly then got ready for our next “Moms Night Out”. It was supposed to take place at- get this – “adult skate” at the new roller rink (!) which I just couldn’t face – I convinced the moms to change the agenda to just dinner… it turned out all the moms were, like me, too tired for a Moms Night Out!

The next day, as I wearily arrived for a big family Sunday dinner (late), my sister cornered me, asking a favor… “Can you take my son to a party next week – I can’t make it – it’s at the Y – a pool party… but don’t worry, you don’t have to swim…” She must have seen my eyes glaze over at the thought of it getting in the pool with a bunch of 11 year old boys….

Good thing I have another party, far away, already scheduled for that day, so I got out of it. The best part? It’s at a nice, quiet, toddler puppet show!

Getting Into Science -- by Cara

A few weeks ago, I, along with Bloggers representing other social media, were invited to an Open House at the New York Hall of Science, along with our families! I was very excited to go, as was my son, because they were featuring, Sid the Science Kid Family Day (which my son watches on television endlessly)! Also featured was an exhibit called Math Midway, an interactive exhibition similar to a math theme park! Math Midway was promoted to demonstrate fun and challenging math games which encourage physical interaction to discover the amazement of just how varied mathematics can actually be!

It was an absolutely gorgeous day! As we walked towards the entrance, my son spotted a mini golf course. He wanted that to be his first stop! Upon being greeted graciously by the Blogger Open House staff and given a folder with directions detailing where to go and what to see, my son shot off to the Rocket Park Mini Golf course! Little did we realize that this wasn’t an ordinary golf course! It was a gravity defying designed course where your skill had to match the force of gravity in order to get the ball into the hole! My son, having already been on a real golf course with his Grandfather, knew the proper techniques of playing golf. However none of these techniques were working on this mini golf course! My son even approached other children who were having a difficult time, and instructed them to, “Keep your thumbs pointed down!” This tip actually worked for a little girl who had been struggling to get the ball to cooperate!

Next, we went back inside to visit the Sports Challenge area upstairs. In this area, you get a chance to throw “baseballs” of different weights and sizes to see how far you are able to distance them. There is a mini rock climbing wall, a surfboard simulator, and an interesting display of Wheelchair Racing.” Here, you sit in an actual wheelchair with an opponent next to you. When you both hit the “go” button, you must only use your hands to push the wheels to try to beat your opponent. My son was amazed at how much work it took to roll a wheelchair using just your arms! I explained that there were many people who need to use only their hands to “steer” their wheelchairs all around, everyday. My son said that they must be very strong people! I told him that I was certain they were!

Our next stop was the Science Playground which was outdoors. My son was climbing, sliding and trying out concepts such as motion and solar energy. He had the most fun climbing up the giant spider web! At one point he was hanging upside-down! The weather, as I said, was beautiful, so I had a difficult time convincing him to come in for lunch!

Finally, after lunch, we went to the Math Midway! At this new exhibit, children can learn about and test theories such as probability and symmetry in a carnival-like atmosphere! There were nine exhibits, however my son gravitated towards the ones that caught his interest the most. One exhibit that he spent quite a bit of time on was, “Pirate X and Lady Y.” He teamed up with a little girl and each took turns placing or taking off small weights in order to “balance” the “ship”. They did quite well and were able to get the ship ALMOST perfectly balanced!

Next stop in Math Midway was the “Universal Wheel of Chance.” My son was either very lucky, or the wheel was designed to stop on a higher number each time! Imagine the fun my son had spinning the wheel over and over only to have the wheel land on a higher number with each consecutive spin! What is the probability of that?

Then we were off to “The Mysterious Harmonograph.” Here, children get to create their own unique mathematical drawings from a swinging steel pendulum! My artist son had a blast with this one! He created a design with more unusual squiggles and circular patterns than I think one can reasonably put on a large piece of paper! He didn’t want to stop, though! He was getting a kick out of the “art creation” he was making!

My son’s last stop in Math Midway, was an exhibit called, “Polyhedral Puzzle Plaza.” At this exhibit, children used oversized toys, sticks and cubes, working collaboratively, to create whatever their imaginative minds would allow them. Except for a squabble between two little girls, the children all nicely worked together to build what they interpreted as a “castle.” No matter what the outcome, this activity gave the children the resources to come up with an unusual geometric design of their own imagination and choosing. My son loves doing things with other children, so this was an ideal activity for him!

We eagerly wanted to see Sid the Science Kid. There were two showings in the auditorium; one at 2 pm and the other at 3 pm. The line at the 2 pm showing was wrapped through the museum. I knew my son would never be able to stay in line long enough to wait for the 2 pm showing, nor would he be able to get and stay in line long enough for the 3 pm showing. So, unfortunately we didn’t get to see Sid. But my son was more than appeased when we looked around the gift shop and ended up buying a gem set for him to take home and examine with his microscope!

All in all, it was a fabulous day at the New York Hall of Science! The gorgeous day allowed us to spend some time at the outdoor exhibits, while the indoor exhibits provided plenty to see, do, examine and explore! What a wonderful museum for the entire family to explore! I know we will be back soon...even if it is only to collect more “gems” from the gift shop!

Then, again, having a gemologist in the family may not be such a bad thing after all! Especially when he is your own son!

Some Friendly Advice -- by Jamie

I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a busy single mother who doesn’t have time to waste—or simply the result of being older and wiser—but ever since Jayda was born, I’ve been more selective about which friendships I choose to foster. I consider myself very fortunate to have so many wonderful friends from every stage of my life—high school, college, my “single in the city” days, former jobs, and even my few years of motherhood. But it’s quality, not quantity that counts to me. And at this point in my life, when it comes to friendship, I only give as good as I get.

Over a year ago, I met a woman at my gym who, aside from our shared stair-climbing workouts, I had very little in common with; she was single, childless, rough-around-the-edges, and after devoting herself to her ex-boyfriend for years, now had no girlfriends to speak of. But she appeared to have a good heart, and she needed a friend, so I let her into my life. The woman latched on to me, called me incessantly, and, despite all the hours of listening and support I gave to her, never gave anything back to me; she was simply self-consumed. When we got into an argument a few months ago, I easily made the choice to “let her go,” as I don’t have the time or energy for people who drag me down and never do anything to lift me up.

That said, friendships are a complicated thing…and sometimes “letting go” of someone who really isn’t “good for you” isn’t as easy at sounds. For instance, my mother has been friends with one particular woman for decades—a woman whom I almost consider to be part of our family. But over the last several years, there have been countless fights between these women, tons of miscommunication issues, and lots of hurt feelings. In the last few weeks, things came to a head, and my mother was attacked by this woman for a long list of silly offenses my mother had purportedly committed. When this woman called my mom, my mom was put on the defensive, and hung up the phone crying; she has been miserable about the situation ever since. Everyone tells my mother to “let this woman go,” and I personally advised her that she shouldn’t be friends with someone who makes her feel so uncomfortable—someone whom she has to step on eggshells around, and always be fearful of offending. But dumping a long-time friend isn’t so easy. There’s history there, and lots of emotional investment. Sometimes it’s even a “pride” issue: We want people to like us—especially our old friends—and we sometimes bend over backwards to “fix things,” even when we’re not the ones who broke them.

I’m trying to teach my daughter, Jayda, the value of good friends—and what she should expect from them. Fortunately, she knows a bunch of sweet, little girls whom she likes to play with, and I try to foster these relationships by organizing play dates and encouraging Jayda to be a good friend to her friends. But there’s one little girl at Jayda’s day care who has been a source of angst for both of us. This girl is a close friend of one of Jayda’s best friends, and, as is often the case with threesomes, jealousy issues and conflicts have arisen between the girls. Jayda has told me on many occasions that this girl is “not nice” to her. And several times in the last few months, there have been notes on Jayda’s daily progress sheet informing me that my normally-well-behaved daughter has pinched or pushed “a classmate.” Upon pressing Jayda for details, I’ve learned that Jayda’s attacks have all been toward this particular girl, and Jayda always prefaces her confessions with the fact that this girl was “not nice.” I spoke to Jayda’s teacher, who told me there was nothing to worry about, but I still felt the need to speak to Jayda about the situation. I told her not to spend time with this girl, and to, instead, hang out with girls who were nice to her and treated her well. I stressed that friends should respect one other and make each other feel good—not hurt each other physically, or hurt each other’s feelings. She seemed to “get” it and, lately, has been proudly informing me that she’s been hanging out with “good” friends, and offering the names of a few kids whom I know treat her well.

Recently, I’ve started planning Jayda’s upcoming third birthday party, and asked my daughter which of her classmates she wanted to invite. After offering the name of her “best friend” and a few other nice girls from her class, Jayda rattled off her former nemesis’s name, too. Huh? She says they’re friends now. And the other morning, Jayda waited for this girl in the parking lot so they could hold hands and walk into day care together. I’m not sure if this truce is going to last forever, but for now, I’m hoping the kids have truly worked things out. As I said before, sometimes it’s not so easy to let go of a friend…and sometimes, if the friend turns out to be a decent one (as I hope this little girl will be), you find out you don’t have to, after all. But in the long run, spending time with people who make you feel good about yourself is what counts the most. And I just hope Jayda—and my mother, too—will figure that out.

GUEST BLOG POST: Raising a Sensory Smart Child - by Nancy Peske, author

There's something up with a child you know. He's clumsy, picky, always on the move, or flopped in a chair like a wet noodle. He's impulsive, intense, and quirky. Maybe he has a learning disability, ADHD, or autism, or maybe not, but his behavior and responses to everyday sensations are puzzling. Why does he withdraw or act out? Why are transitions so difficult? Can he really hear the fluorescent lights that he claims are distracting him?

It's very likely that this child you're concerned about has sensory processing disorder, also known as SPD or sensory integration dysfunction. An estimated 1 in 20 children and almost all children with autism have SPD.

This child's nervous system is wired atypically, causing her body to process everyday sensations differently. Unable to rely on her senses to give her an accurate picture of what is going on in her body and her world, she is prone to anxiety, distractibility, impulsivity, and frustration. A child with SPD will tune out or act out when overstimulated. The need for sensory input such as movement and touch can be so overpowering that the child truly can't control her need to seek it out. Many of us have difficulty tuning out background noise, or prefer clothes that fit a certain way. These are sensory preferences. When a child's sensory issues interfere significantly with learning and playing, he needs the help of an occupational therapist and a sensory smart adult who can teach him how to feel more comfortable in his body and environment.

Fortunately, many of the accommodations that can make a huge difference in the life of a child who has sensory issues are simple and inexpensive. Here are just a few:

• Cut out clothing tags, turn socks inside out or buy seamless ones, and avoid clothing with embroidery and elastic that will touch the skin and create distracting, irritating sensations.



• To tolerate the intense sensation of having his teeth brushed, the child with SPD may need to use nonfoaming toothpaste and have his mouth and lips desensitized by using a vibrating toothbrush or even just gently pressing a hand-held vibrator against his cheek, jaws, and lips before attempting to brush.



• To calm and focus a child with sensory issues, you can try applying deep pressure against the skin as you compress her joints. Hugging, or pressing pillows against her body or rolling her up in a blanket to play “burrito” are often enjoyable ways for a child to get input. Always pay close attention to what a child is telling you, in words or body language, about her response to sensory input. Do not upset her with unwanted touch.



• In school or at home, allow him to sit on an exercise ball or an inflatable cushion, with a smooth or bumpy surface. This will meet the movement needs of a child who just has to be able to squirm and help the child with poor body awareness to better sense where his body is when he's seated. When these needs for movement and body awareness are met, the sensory child will focus better on listening, eating, or doing schoolwork.



• Provide a quiet retreat when she's overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught of everyday life. Whether she sits alone with you in a car outside of a party or restaurant, or in a quiet, darkened room, listening to relaxing music on a personal music player with headphones, a sensory break can do wonders for a child's ability to tolerate her environment.

A pediatric occupational therapist, trained and experienced in helping children with sensory issues, can work with parents and teachers to plan and carry out activities for the child that can help him or her function better at home, at school, and away. She can also help problem solve and discover accommodations that will ease the child’s discomfort. Whether working on a consultation basis, in a sensory gym nearby, at home or at school, the right sensory smart OT can make a huge difference for a child with sensory processing disorder.


Nancy lives with her husband and son in Shorewood, Wisconsin. She ghostwrites, cowrites, edits, and serves as a book doctor. Her son, who at age 2 was diagnosed with sensory integration dysfunction, or sensory processing disorder, and multiple developmental delays, inspired her to envision and cowrite the award-winning Raising a Sensory Smart Child: The Definitive Handbook for Helping Your Child with Sensory Processing Issues. Visit http://www.nancypeske.com.

Egg Hunt -- by Gina

This past weekend I took my 6 year old niece and 3 year old daughter to an Easter event at our local children’s museum. The week prior my sister and I had been preparing by gathering up the requisite egg cartons (paper, not plastic or Styrofoam) for the Easter Egg basket craft the girls were going to be making first, to house their found eggs. My sister couldn’t make it – she had to take my nephew to a karate tournament so I would be spending a festive morning with just the girls.

We had to be there early – I had scheduled us for the earliest appointment. After leaving the house only a few minutes late to pick up my niece, I called my husband from the driveway. “Can you do me a big favor? There’s an egg carton in the fridge… can you empty the eggs out and bring me just the carton?” He hung up without a word and appeared in the driveway (in his boxer shorts) a few minutes later with the empty egg carton, a confused look on his face, handed it over and walked away without saying anything. He has learned not to bother asking what’s going on… it is usually too long an explanation for him.

Despite the cold and rainy weather, the girls were excited to get started. They enjoyed making their Easter basket craft – though it was a little chaotic, with lots of aspiring crafters pushing their way in for a spot at the busy craft tables to decorate egg carton baskets. There being no chairs, I hunched over the craft table or squatted down to the girls’ level, twisting into awkward positions to help them do their crafts. While I spent an extended amount of time helping Gianna get her basket together, my niece, Alissa, who had been suspiciously quiet, exclaimed, “Wow! This is so cool, Aunt Gina! Mommy NEVER lets me staple!”

So between alternate demands of “Help me, Mommy!” and “Help ME now, Aunt Gina!”, I managed to create two lovely Easter baskets with only paper and staples. But boy was my neck and back killing me from hunching over. As we traipsed from one building to the next, up and down stairs and over the wet field now, baskets in hand, my neck stiff, it occurred to me as it often does when I am doing these kids’ activities that… I am just too old for this!

Next they collected their eggs, arguing over who spotted which egg first, but enjoying it just the same. I made them pose for lots of pictures, then we went off to the next building for the snack. The Easter Bunny himself was seated in the snack area for photo ops, How nice, I thought. “Look girls, the Easter Bunny!” , to which my niece, who has always hated costumed characters, shouted, “That Easter Bunny is freakin’ me out!” My daughter, who predictably repeats everything her older cousin says and does, shouted (LOUDLY), “Yeah, Easter Bunny, you’re FREAKIN’ US OUT!” I hung my head in shame as everyone turned to look at us, but giggled to myself as we headed to the cookie table for their snack.

We entertained ourselves by watching the door the Easter Bunny had disappeared behind, waiting for him (from a safe distance) to come back out after his “carrot break.” The girls became brave when I told them he would give them treats if they went over to him. In fact, they were the first ones over when he came back out and they marched proudly back to me with bags of jellybeans in hand, smiling proudly and excited at their spurt of bravery. I snapped a quick photo of them and thought, “I’m not too old for this, after all.” Kids make everything more fun – a typical Saturday morning for us is an adventure for them.

It was a good day.

Happy Easter and Passover to everyone! And remember, don’t let the Easter Bunny freak you out!

The Favorite Child -- by Laura

When you have twins, people like to jokingly ask which one is your favorite. You can’t answer them honestly or they would look at you like you’re a cruel, callous mother. Because truth be told: you do have a favorite. You can’t help it. It’s biology at work, and it’s called social smiling, although sometimes I refer to it as passive infant manipulation. The social smile is designed to engage and elicit a positive response from the adult, which thereby creates a bond between parent and child. The parent then feels obligated to take care of the baby in order to ensure a regular source of warm fuzzies.

When my son Lyle was two months old, he began social smiling. He would spread his mouth across his face in a drunken, toothless grin when he saw me, and I would respond in kind. When I came in the room he cooed and beckoned me to him with that smile, and I fell all over myself trying to get to him like a 14-year old girl in love. Wyatt, however, wasn’t ready for the smiling and the engagement. He was born a pound smaller than his brother, and he spent his energy catching up.

My husband got angry with me because at that time I favored Lyle. I couldn’t help it. Mother and son were going through some biological and physiological changes that caused us to bond, thus ensuring Lyle’s survival. I was unsuccessful at getting my husband to understand that Wyatt as not neglected by any means. I still sang to him and fed him and cuddled with him just as much as I did Lyle. I also know that as soon as Wyatt started smiling and engaging I would form the same kind of bond with him, and the one who would get the short end of the stick would be me, because I would be frazzled from giving two babies so much love.

By three months Wyatt began social smiling, and he was better at it than his brother. He beams. Radiates. When Wyatt smiles he does it with his whole head. And he has a really big head. His head is so large I have to cut slits in his onesies to get them over that giant noggin. Wyatt’s grins are so enthusiastic that they often knock his cranium of kilter and he falls right over. And when he does this, he’s my favorite.

Lyle is the leader of their gang of two. He crawls around the house emitting shocks of laughter as he delights in his movement and his autonomy. He is the first to do everything while Wyatt watches with his mouth open and an expression on his face that says: Um! I’m telling! When Lyle doesn’t feel well, he comes to me and hugs my leg or my arm and holds on tight until I gather him in my arms and put him to sleep. Once when the entire family was sick with stomach flu, we all slept on towels and blankets in the living room. Lyle woke up and crawled around hugging us all and nuzzling his head into ours. He’s that kind of baby. Compassionate. Awake. Sensitive. The smile on his face was shy and gentle. And on that day, he was my favorite.

However, Lyle is also very demanding. He wants my attention all the time, and it is beyond exhausting. It becomes a fight to make sure Wyatt gets his needs met. One day when Lyle found new ways to request my time by throwing up, exploding in his diaper, and coloring his mouth with a pen, I was running back and forth with him from the kitchen to the bedroom to the bathroom, and I realized I had not checked in with Wyatt for almost an hour. I had left him playing in the middle of the living room floor with his soda bottle filled with pennies and his magnet dolls. I rushed by with a naked Lyle in my arms, and I paused in the doorway. Wyatt looked up from chewing on a doll, smiled his enormous smile, and fell right over. And at that instant, he was my favorite.

It Must Be Spring -- by Jamie

This past week, the temperature rose…not just outside, but figuratively, too. Suddenly, men from my past were popping up everywhere. A guy I know from High School who lives out of town, but has shown interest in me over the years, texted me that he’d be in New York the next day, and wanted to get together. The very same day, a man I went on a handful of dates with about four years ago, but who seems to “check in” with me every year (only to disappear again shortly thereafter), sent me an email asking how Jayda and I were doing. A few days before that, an ex of mine whom I flirt with now and then—but hadn’t heard from in awhile—sent me a flurry of texts telling me I was on his mind. None of these encounters meant much to me—other than giving me a brief ego boost and a few days of fun flirting. But I found the timing interesting. It was clearly spring…and everyone was feeling freer—and flirtier—than they had during the cold, dark winter.

The same held true at the playground. Jayda and I returned to one of our favorite parks this week for the first time in many months, and bumped into a little boy whom Jayda had played with a lot last year. Suddenly, Jayda was following the boy around like his shadow—literally chasing him—while he showed off for her by climbing the jungle gym expertly and performing silly swinging antics. I realized instantly that they were “flirting” in a simplistic, child-like way: smiling happily at each other, holding each other’s hands as they ran around, and, like a true flirt, Jayda seemed to find everything the boy said or did simply hilarious. At one point, Jayda tumbled off of the swing she’d been riding on with her belly, and burst into tears. Instantly, the boy ran over to her, pulled a “fish” he’d created at school out of construction paper and crayons out of his backpack, and presented it to Jayda to soothe her. She accepted it happily, and her waterworks stopped soon after that. She also accepted a packet of cookies which he offered to her—and even gave him a shy hug in return. Yes, spring was in the air…and as young as these three-year-olds are, it amazed me how they instinctively seemed to know how to “do the mating dance.”

Jayda’s certainly too young for a boyfriend, and right now, I personally don’t have the time to pursue one, myself. But, as I’ve stated before, we both sure do like guys. They’re nice to get attention from—and they’re lots of fun to flirt with—and now that spring is in the air, we’re both looking forward to enjoying the weather—and the good times it promises to bring with it.

Perspective -- by Gina

Today is a gorgeous day; blue skies, sunny, 61 degrees – quite a welcome departure from the snow and storms we’ve had so recently. You wouldn’t think that just this past weekend was a storm that took down power lines and trees every few blocks in the northeast. I can even hear the sound of spring - kids happily playing outside after a long winter indoors.

But despite the bright weather, today is also a dark day. Today I heard the news that a friend’s child is losing his battle with cancer.

My eyes teared up as chills ran down my spine. I wondered how the parents are going to get through it, and how frightened and utterly devastated they all must be. I said a silent prayer for them. But what can you really say or do at a time like this – when someone’s world is crashing down around them, when their heart is surely breaking into a million pieces?

For me, this is one of those moments that “puts it all in perspective”… in a big way.

I’d been having a rough week with my daughter, Gianna. Between racing around to get to my full time job on time, nursing her through her most recent cold, chasing her around the house with Tylenol and nose spray, dealing with her tantrums and the worst part, hardly getting any sleep all week. She has been scared of sleeping alone in her room, and has been finding her way out of bed and downstairs asking for.. well.. you name it -another cup of water, some company, the option to sleep with me and my husband in our bed. This week, my patience has been worn thin and my energy even thinner. While I was at work one day, Gianna discovered my permanent markers and decided to decorate her arms, hands and knees with them. A trying week, that is, until you are reminded of what a trying week truly is... and someone helps you to put your own trivial complaints into perspective.

So tonight I will give my daughter a big hug, and probably kiss her so much she wipes her face, sneering, “Ugh! I don’t like kisses!”

Today, my heart goes out to all the parents out there facing the truly unfaceable. It is not until I became a mom that I understood what my sister, herself a mother, meant when she told me, “Congratulations. Now your heart exists outside your body.” I have never felt such incredible emotions in my life until having a child… the highs and lows of pure love, true joy, fierce strength, and utter sorrow. Your heart is literally out of your control. No wonder we parents are always exhausted. It is not just the physical and the day-to-day errands, school, etc. – I’m convinced it is the emotional exhaustion that wears us out. Loving someone so totally and completely with all your heart is a risky business, despite all we get in return.

“Later moms” face the unique challenge of dealing with the fear that we may not be around for our kids due to our advanced age, and hand in hand with that fear comes regret for not having become parents earlier in our lives. Again, for me, hearing today’s sad news puts the “later mom remorse” smack into its rightful place. The back of my mind, way far back so I can focus on the important stuff: loving and caring for my child today, not worrying so much about what in our lives is “not right”, living in the present, and being incredibly grateful for the messy playroom, the runny nose I’ve wiped what seems like fifty times today, and yes, even the misdirected permanent marker.

Making Our Relationship Work -- by Jamie

Jayda accompanies me to my gym every weekend. First, she joins me in the locker room while I change, and both of us converse with the women around us, who always greet Jayda enthusiastically. Then, Jayda goes into the daycare center to play for an hour or so, while I work out. Along the way, Jayda stops and stares at all the men and women who are training in the gym and bombards all of us with questions, watches the step and spinning classes with obvious fascination, and simply enjoys being in the venue as much as I do—and appears to have a lot of fun with me, chatting and socializing.

The other day, an older woman approached me during my work out and told me that she loved watching me with my daughter and that we “reminded her of herself and her daughter” when her child was Jayda’s age. She then proceeded to tell me about how she had raised her daughter (who is now in her early 20s) by herself following her divorce, and how they had been “buddies” in the way Jayda and I appeared to be. But then she said she “had to warn me that having such a close relationship did have its downside,” and explained that when her daughter had hit her early teens, she’d rebelled. The mother and daughter quickly went from “best friends” to barely speaking and it was a very trying time. She assured me that now her daughter is a successful businesswoman—which I thought meant there was a happy ending to her story—but when I asked, “so now you guys are close again?” she shrugged her shoulders and made a face. She said that now, her daughter’s always so busy and never has time for her mother; she never calls her mom for advice, and always cuts her phone calls short because she “has work to do.” But this, too, the woman warned me, was the “downside of raising her daughter to be so independent,” which she was forced to do as a busy, working single mother. She claimed her daughter didn’t “need” her help or advice because she was taught to be self-sufficient at such an early age.

This woman’s story made me very sad. And the worst part is that she was comparing her family to mine! Of course I don’t know how Jayda’s and my story will “end,” but I’d like to think there are a few important differences that will assure my family of a happier ending than my ill-fated gym friend’s. First of all, though Jayda and I may appear to be “buddies” at the gym, we’re not. I’m Jayda’s mother—and I’m in charge. As difficult as it is to do sometimes, I do make rules and set limits. A single friend of mine recently told me, jokingly, that it was a good thing she wasn’t a mother because “any child of hers would be obese!” She was referring to the fact that she’d never be able to say “no” to candy at the supermarket—and would likely give her son or daughter anything he or she asked for when it came to junk food. I laughed…and then I told her she had a point. It is very difficult to say “no” to Jayda when her big blue eyes are fixed longingly on a bag of M&Ms at the check out counter of CVS. Or to hold my ground as that same adorable girl protests, “but I a good girl, mommy!” after I refuse to let her eat chocolate chip cookies for breakfast. But mommies are supposed to keep their kids healthy…and they’re supposed to set limits. And they’re also supposed to let their kids know that the mommies are the decision-makers—not the kids. Jayda’s “buddy” might let her stay up as late as she wants to at night; I most certainly won’t. In fact, I’m a stickler about Jayda’s bedtime. And though she’ll throw a tantrum now and then—or even shout “I don’t like you, mommy” in a fit of unhappiness—Jayda knows I take care of her—and I always will. And that’s the most important thing in the world to both of us.

Another difference between me and my gym friend is in our concept of teaching our children independence. An independent person doesn’t have to be a disconnected one. Just because I’m teaching Jayda how to take care of herself doesn’t mean I’m training her to never consult me about anything. Hopefully she can follow in my footsteps in that sense: In college, I was independent enough to travel to Australia to study for a semester…but I still “needed” to check in with my parents on the phone at least once a week for support, advice, or even just to share a good story. And now, I’m a mother, myself, raising my own daughter, but I still “need” my own mommy sometimes for help with a problem. Just because I know how to take care of myself doesn’t mean I have to do everything alone. That’s the kind of independence I think every woman should exhibit….and the kind I’m hoping to foster in my own daughter.

Similarly, I think an important part of being able to take care of oneself is knowing how to take care of others. And I’m raising my daughter to do just that. It’s another thing that I hope will keep our relationship thriving until I’m old and gray: Jayda and I take care of each other. Of course as the mother, I’m in charge of the big issues and responsibilities, but there are plenty of ways that Jayda can help take care of me…and she does. For instance, just the other evening, I asked my daughter if she was tired and she said, “No, mommy. Are you?” When I admitted I was “a little tired,” she instructed me to lay my head in her lap and “rest for a wittle while.” She even covered me with one of her baby’s blankets while she sang “Rock-a-Bye Baby” to me and stroked my hair (though I declined the binky she offered). It was a precious moment and I savored it for as long as I could. Then I got up and made us a healthy dinner—with a few M&Ms for dessert.