Sticky Nest - by Elizabeth Allen

I see young mothers all around me doing everything from dropping off their 6 year-olds for the first day of kindergarten to quick hugs outside their 18 year-olds freshman college dorm. They do it fast too! Like ripping off a Band-Aid. They shed ne’er a tear before they’re on their way to lunch with the girls or meeting with the interior designer to overhaul junior’s room.

But watch an older mom take little Timmy to his first day of school. He’s chomping at the bit, pulling toward the Fisher-Price Tiny Tots Farm with all his weight and she’s weeping at an elevated level of histrionics like something out of Sophie’s Choice. And it doesn’t seem to get any easier from there. At least it hasn’t for me.

My daughter turned 16 this past July and I have a whole list of BFI’s—Brace For It.

• Driving: without me or her father, alone, fast, listening to and/or singing along with music on her ipod, with a friend who’s distracting her by talking instead of keeping her eyes on the road thus discouraging my daughter from talking back to her, at night, in the rain, when the sun is at that blinding level, even when it’s not, when there are other cars on the road, and why she’s been gone for more than ten minutes.

• Boyfriends: while I trust her judgment in whom she chooses to be with and while she is pretty sophisticated about boys in general, I just don’t think she’s really ready for what a 16 year old boy wants. No offense to my readers who are parents of teenage sons, but you know what I’m talking about. Regarding rules – we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. If we impose rigid guidelines, there will be rebellion to contend with and we run the risk of driving her away and then she’ll hop into that car ( SEE: first BFI) and elope with that boy in Georgia just to make a point. If we give her complete and unrestricted freedom, she’ll take it and I’ll still be nauseous until she gets home from her date. And then she’ll tell me nothing. Oy vay.

• College: Sure. I hear what you’re saying. “She’s 16! That’s two years away!” But to me it feels like tomorrow. Intellectually, I understand the concept that our children are only ours for a short time and we must let them go, but my gut and my heart march to a different drummer. Between you and me (and I swear I will NOT pressure her to do this!) I want her to go to a local college, live at home, finish her homework and invite me in to watch a tearjerker DVD at least twice a week, help me cook family meals (why not? She’ll get to eat for free as long as she stays home) and go shopping with me once in a while. And then, once she graduates, maybe look for a position in her chosen field within a 50-mile-radius of me. Oh, and there’s no hurry to move out.

See this momma bird kicking her chick out of the nest?

THAT ain't me.

I know, I know. I’ve seen emotionally crippled young adults whose parents kept them utterly dependent and once on their own, they were completely helpless. I knew a boy in college who had never set foot in a grocery store. The first time he went food shopping for his apartment, he looked for packages of bologna on the bread aisle because it was logical that sandwich stuffs should be there. I’m not saying my clingy tendencies are healthy or even justified. Just the emotional ramblings and apprehensions of one gal who waited so long to have her dream baby and doesn’t want to wake up too soon.

Don’t pinch me.

When Life Gives You Lemons - By Cara Potapshyn Meyers

 My lawyer dealt me a harsh blow this past week. She informed me that based on new divorce laws that are now in effect, the anticipated alimony (now termed “maintenance”) and child support I would have originally received, will most likely be halved. The word devastated doesn’t even describe my reaction. We even have a legal rental property that I was going to use to supplement income after my divorce that my husband is refusing to rent. And if the property is vacant for 12 months or more, it cannot be used as a legal rental anymore. Goodbye extra source of income.

I live in an expensive community. But one of the benefits of living in this community is that the school system is one of the nation’s best. I want that for my child. I want to continue to live in my house so that my son has the security and consistency of living in the home and community he has always known. I feel let down by the judicial system. I feel let down by my husband who is not willing to keep our rental property rented. I feel let down by the whole world.

But there is something inside of me that is telling me that even with all that will be taken away from me, I will have what truly matters. I will have my son. That alone is the real comfort to this debacle. I personally don’t need clothes, I have enough make-up samples to last a few years, and I can manicure my own nails and highlight my own hair. I don’t even need to eat that much food. I will spend what little I get making sure my son is well fed, well clothed, and well cared for. I will find a way to make ends meet. I will find a way to make money even though I will have to be home some days so that my son gets the tutoring he needs. Heck, I will sell some heirloom, expensive furniture if it allows my son and me to remain in our home.

If worse comes to worse, my son and I could live in our rental property and rent out our house. Not my first choice, but as a last resort. I will even empty my bank account except for a cushion of emergency money, to pay off our mortgage. I will go to whatever extremes necessary to allow my son and me to stay where we are.

And who knows, perhaps since my husband now knows he won’t become  bankrupt, maybe he’ll consider chipping in a bit of money to ensure that his son stays secure and will remain in our current school system. And he may possibly chip in to pay for camp and karate, and swim lessons and other activities my child loves.

I’ve spent several days now saying over and over, “Why me??!!” Why has my entire life been one horrendous devastating event after another?? I still don’t know the answer. To build character? To allow me to learn lessons that will prove to be beneficial for the next calamity that comes along in my life? Perhaps. I really don’t know. I do know that God has always been with me throughout all of these horrible events. And I do know that I am truly a good, decent, caring, gratuitous person. I just can’t figure out why I keep going through these cycles of misfortune.

But there has to be a greater reason for this misfortune to be occurring. I haven’t figured it out yet. But I know there IS a reason. I will admit that there was a small part of me that felt guilty that I was bankrupting my child’s father. Even though he deserves it. That guilt is gone now. I am more at peace with myself. Maybe my in-laws will help pay for my son to go to college. I was planning on using my own inheritance money for that, but that will be my emergency “cushion” of money now. Maybe there is a lesson I will learn that I just haven’t figured out yet.

My favorite dog has been around for quite a long time. I would be completely lost without him. My son would too. Maybe his longevity is a payoff also? If it is, I’ll take that at any price. Like I keep saying, there has to be meaning to all of this. Time will hopefully tell.

Back to School Again by Cyma

For some reason, going back to school-time this year has been less angst-filled than I anticipated; in fact, it appears to be lessening each year. And, while the exuberant joy and pride I once felt for this exciting new phase of my life is nearly gone, it’s being replaced by a quiet, calming (still joyful) ‘same old, same old’ feeling – the kind that I think I’ll one day come to mourn, when it comes to an end as my children embark on their own paths - to college.

 On Day One last week, I forgot the prerequisite opening speech at school (for parents), and sent my daughter to school on the bus alone; my daughter’s bus was 15 minutes early and we screamed at the top of our lungs to catch the bus driver’s attention as he sped by our bus stop and nearly missed us; later that same day, my son had a panic-attack on the playground, but other than that, everything went well!  In fact, it went so well that I’m just humming along into Week Two.


It seems to me that the more I do this routine of child-rearing, the easier it gets and the more confident I am.  I feel more grounded than ever.  Finally, I feel like one of “them,” after years and years of feeling like one of “us.” I can converse more easily with any number of women about children, in general, without passing judgment on their looks, actions or dress.

I no longer stare with anger at the mother whose child is out of control in the supermarket. I no longer criticize women I see behaving badly toward their children, or cringe like I used to when I hear a screaming infant.  Once, these experiences reminded me of my own painful childhood and I could do nothing but try to block them out, just to cope. Now, I provide supportive looks toward mothers who have good intentions, but are short on patience and cope-ability.  I have a much greater awareness of how mothers, in general, juggle enormous responsibilities while working .  To me, that equates to working (at home) + working (at careers) = double working. It is amazing that we can even get up each morning and start all over again.  (I think the business of mothering and nurturing remains underrated. We should demand more.)


Now, I can share a laugh with any mother I meet about how our children drive us to the ends of our…..ropes and just walk away feeling a sense of camaraderie, rather than a sense of competitiveness.

I can imagine that things will heat up again in our home life; they always do. But my intention to live without excessive stress is actually happening right before my eyes. As a new older mother, I’ve found my rhythm, stride and self. Maybe I’ll send myself back to school, again, too…………………..