Midlife Mothering And Learning by the Bell Curve By Cyma Shapiro

A funny thing has happened to me during the past few weeks. I’ve made awarenesses that I know are designed to teach me fundamental truths about my life. They look like this:

I’m a very driven person. I know what I like and I go after it; in most cases I get it. Mothering after 45 is one example; and in that case, I was certain I knew what life would be like after that. I was wrong. In fact, I was dead wrong. It has been like this for many other things that have followed: the advent of my next child at age 48; my belief that our friends and social circles would stay the same after children; the belief that it’s possible to become a mother and maintain the same friends, job, house, husband and, most importantly, the rhythm of your previous life.  Let’s see…I believed that my women’s project – examining the underlying beliefs and reasons for choosing motherhood over 40 – would flourish in a particular manner, in a particular timeframe.  It has been successful, but not in the manner I expected.  In reflecting on this all, I now also remember some of my previous beliefs - that the biological clock was mere hyperbole – that one was, perhaps, a tad bit unrealistic. My most recent belief?  That menopause would somehow overlook me.  And, now this - that my launching another blog site for midlife mothers would also allow me to continue writing for MotherhoodLater.  It will not.

While many of you might have seen some of these changes coming, no one is more surprised than me. And, I keep being surprised. I also keep thinking that I have it all in check; that life will turn out the way I expect it to, but, in fact, it doesn’t. Nearly ever. “Expectations,” my husband always says to me, “You have too many expectations.” But in the moment, nothing seems out of my grasp and everything seems doable and easily attainable for my life.  How very wrong I often am.

So here I am at a really sad juncture. MotherhoodLater Founder, Robin, allowed me my voice again; gave me latitude for pursuing my thoughts, goals and dreams. And I took the bull by the horn and went for it all. And, in getting most of it, I now need to let go – of Robin, and of MotherhoodLater. 

This is tough.  Despite the corniness of this, it really does feel like the child leaving her mother; the school-girl going to high school; the young adult getting married. For everything that moves forward, something (or someone) nearly always gets left behind. And, now it’s my dear friend, Robin.

Oh, I’ve no doubt we’ll remain good friends, but that mentoring relationship; that nurturing under the wing so-to-speak is gone. Now, I’m on a ledge alone, much like I imagine she already is.

So, here I go into the unknown. Two more weeks on this site, but I’ve already started saying my “good-byes.” Growing up is SO hard to do…

Midlife Mothering by Robin Gorman Newman

This past weekend, we made a trip to Hartford, CT to meet up with my friend Cyma, who is the "brainchild" behind a special new exhibit called Nurture, a collection of stories, told through black 'n white photos and words, of women who chose motherhood after 40.

We were invited to be part of this show, and a few months ago, did a photo shoot with the super talented Shana Sureck, (our portrait from the show at right) one of  two photographers who captured the images of the 20+ families on display in CT.  Cyma, an excellent writer and later mom who blogs for MotherhoodLater.com on Sundays, interviewed the mothers, and shared their poignant stories, including mine.

It was such a heartfelt experience, and I felt honored to be included.

One thing was evident.  Though all "later" moms come to parenthood through different means, motivations, etc., there was no doubt that each has such gratitude for the mothering experience.  Love was the commonality, despite potential challenges along the parenthood road...whether prior to becoming a mom and not knowing how or if it would happen....and/or by parenting a child with special needs.....or just being a mom, period, which isn't easy no matter how old you are.  (Anyone doing it, knows that.)

Some had both younger kids and older ones.

There were single moms. 

Lesbian couples.

Rabbis.

Stay at home moms.

Working moms.

Even a surrogate mom.

You name it.

And, this was only a sampling of  the moms. Cyma has interviewed over 50 from around the world.  Her drive and passion is truly admirable.

Cyma's hope is that Nurture will become a traveling exhibit, resulting in more 'n more recognition of the choices midlife women have made and that they should feel empowered by their decision. Ultimately, she'd love the stories to be shared in book form.  No doubt it would be embraced by anyone who has chosen to become a parent later.

I couldn't agree more about the message at hand.

It is for this very reason that I launched Motherhood Later...Than Sooner when my son was less than one.  It has since taken on a life of its own with a website, online communities, free in-person chapters worldwide, bloggers, newsletters, etc. Who knew how it would grow when it was born?  It began quite simply as a support group in New York.  But, what I knew was that later moms need and deserve to be supported and embraced and connected to each other.  Parenting takes work, no matter your age, but there are unique pros and challenges to being 40+.  No one likes feeling like the oldest mom in the playground, myself included, especially if judgment from society comes along with that (which can indeed be the case).

I have often said, when I do press interviews, that in Hollywood, it's commonplace to be a 40+ mom, and even sexy.  Celebrities display their pregnant bellies proudly, making headlines when they do it later in life.  And, no one has a negative word to say, or at least the media doesn't present it that way. Yet, on a grassroots level, it can feel like a lonely place.  And, add to that the fact that you might be caring for a senior parent.  The term sandwich generation then applies to you, and that's not a simple place to be.  You are doing double care-taking duty and that can carry a lot of stress.

For all these reasons, us later moms needs to stick together.  It's a girls club that I am proud to be a part of.  And between MotherhoodLater.com and the efforts of a pioneering mom like Cyma, those contemplating later in life mothering will hopefully find themselves filled with more hope than trepidation.  We are paving the way as parents for those yet to follow in our footsteps.  And, the children of these later moms-to-be will be lucky to have been so very wanted....however they come into their lives.  They will know a bond and devotion unlike any they've experienced.  True love knows no age.

Wash, yoga, and other daily signs by Cyma

I, and so many others, have been struck with the sincerity of and the messages sent by author and Zen Master Karen Maezen Miller. Her latest (book) incarnation: hand wash cold (care instructions for an ordinary life) has been publicized throughout the country and is stretching across the world. The message is simple: that everyday chores and routines can provide opportunities for self-examination; teach us about relationships and free us from our ego-driven lives. I like her words; I like this book. I like the simplicity of the message and the essence of it source.

Awhile back I wrote a blog about yoga, and how my daily, early-morning practice often provides me with clues to how my day might unfold. I’d like to examine this further, since I think that we always get clues to everything, all day long – if we take the time to just look. Did we neatly fold the day’s wash, or did we throw it on the floor? Did the nearby driver honk the horn at us for a good reason, or does this just reflect his state of mind? When we made dinner, did we just do that - that is, make dinner and not think about what we would do next or before or tomorrow, or later tonight? Did we have ‘words’ with our friends, family, neighbors which weren’t necessary? Everything reflects our framework and our present state of mind, if only we pay attention and look.

As I often write about being in the moment, many of the greatest teachings and most popular quotes revolve around just that: to be in the moment. Consider these quotes: “The more I give myself permission to live in the moment and enjoy it without feeling guilty, the better I feel about the quality of my work” - Wayne Dyer. “…the foundation for greatness is honoring the small things of the present moment, instead of pursuing the idea of greatness” – Eckert Tolle. The Koran, Bible, Torah and teachings of Buddha all speak about the power of now. It is at the heart of all Zen writings.

Whether it’s the Serenity Prayer, or any number of other written passages that catch your attention, consider posting them in highly visible areas around your home or your workplace. You might even put them on the dashboard of your car. Pay attention to things that you do or that happen to you. Is there a pattern here? A message that can be heard? Do we need to just stop and breathe?

At various times, I post various messages, signs or symbols around my house – all dedicated to getting my attention and helping me get it. I hope that this blog helps you slow down and get it, too.

From Peter Pan to Grown-Up by Cyma

We are what people would think of as a normal, loving family. My husband and I have established careers; we are well respected in our fields. My young adult children live on their own, in their own condos and have very ‘good’ jobs. They are both rising in their companies. My younger children are sweet, respectful, polite, smart and popular. Our dog and cats are well cared for. We have many friends. By all accounts, people like what they see. However, what remains hidden is this: In the last few weeks, I’ve gone from Peter Pan to Grown. Sssshhhhh. Don’t tell anyone. It’s a staggering change.

I’m now dealing with an older son who is a good soul with drop-dead good looks, but has recently gotten in trouble with the law. My older daughter has just revealed that she’s grappling, mightily, with some demons. My father, a brilliant doctor still working in his 80’s is now showing the first signs of dementia. My father-in-law has had repeated seizures and recently fell and broke his arm; my brother-in-law by marriage is dying of lung cancer. One of my oldest friends has been without a job for nearly one year. Another friend just had knee surgery. My physician’s assistant has beginning stage breast cancer. I have two friends who are getting divorced; another who after several marriages/relationships just found true love.

Right now, our family is beset with problems. I am sober with thought and filled with the enormous responsibilities as a daughter, mother, wife and friend. I am not exempt from issues; none of us are. I just don’t know how to deal with all of this.

Before children, I lived a singularly insular life. I laughed, loved, worked, played, but very little touched me. I escaped the trials of other people’s childhoods; staved off true love; let few people into my heart; and remained content in isolation. Now, I cannot do so. Gone are the days when I could work overtime to remove all the papers on my desk, expecting to start fresh (and clean) the next day.

I pray. I’m mindful. Still, I cannot grasp the pain that everyday life can bring; still cannot always immediately fathom why we are led here to struggle in so many different ways. It seems that no one is exempt from struggle and nearly everyone is grappling with pain.

On most days, I don’t even know what to say to any of the people mentioned above. My admonishments and sadness about my son takes my breath away. My daughter’s struggles have just spilled over her solid, armored gates. My father doesn’t seem to see the recent changes in his demeanor. My father-in-law feels victimized; my brother-in-law and family don’t discuss feelings. My friends talk about staying in the present. What about me? I feel like I lived my whole life happily soaring above the clouds, which didn’t leave me much time for creating a solid foundation. I’m at a loss for how to cope, how to support and be supported.

I see what was missing in my life – commitments to loved ones; suffering over indisputable truths; riding the waves of innumerable crises – living each day as if it was my last. But here I am, very much alive and well and soberly contemplative about the state of affairs around me. I want to put these people and their circumstances into a locked box tucked under the corner shelf in the closet. But, the door remains wide open and the often ugly realities scream out like ghosts fresh from the grave.

I think this shall pass. It must pass. I try to live with my glass half-full; hold gratitude near to my heart; be thankful for my good life and fortunes. And breathe. If you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.

CYMA CHATS: with Tatiana Keegan, international ballroom dancer

Q: You married in 2006, at 35 years of age, and had your daughter at 36, both more common ages for women to do so, but old for redesigning a life singularly focused on ballroom dancing. How was that transition for you?

A: It was very different. I always wanted to have a child. When I had her, it was great, but then it felt like something else was missing again. I realized that I had to have both things. I had to use my body again; have that physical exercise. I realized that I had a lot left in me, that I wasn't done yet performing and competing. I had never stopped dancing, I just stopped competing. Just dancing was not enough. I need to be in a high level of competition.

Q: What were the responses of other competitive dancers regarding your pregnancy?

A: People bow in front of me, now (laughs). People say, "At this age, and having a child, you are going back in age! You look younger and have much more energy. You are really giving this your all!"

Q: How do you combine being a mother with being a professional dancer?

A: It's very hard. I knew it was going to be hard. It's not just physically hard, it's emotionally hard. You don't want to give less than 100% to your child; you don't want to give your dancing less than 100%. Especially when my daughter was going through the 'Terrible Two's,' I would get on the train (to class) and think, how can I dance now? But once I started dancing, I would forget about it all. I find that one thing helps the other. Having a child changes everything. Children teach you how to be different -- you have to be very patient with them. I'm training (inside) myself and that helps my dancing get better. I don't get upset like I used to. I used to have much less patience. Now, I have more patience to just try things until I get it.

Q: Do you intend to have more children?

A: I would love to. If I did, I would still like to dance, but not compete anymore.

Q: What lessons do you hope to give your daughter, in going back to a job/work that you truly love?

A: Showing her that nothing comes easy in this life; everything requires repetition. I think that people think that everything comes instantly, I just want to show her that it takes years and years of trying. Nothing comes from luck; it's a lot of hard work. Just keep processing, keep trying, keep failing and you'll get a good result.

Q:Do you see yourself as a role mother for other mothers?

A: Sure. I didn't set out to be one. I hear a lot of people tell me that, esp. my friends who thought they needed to give up dancing after having children.

Q: What do you think about the trend of new older motherhood?

A: I think it's so great that you can pursue your career, or whatever you want, and have children. When you are in your 20's, you still don't know who you are. In your 30's, you are establishing yourself. I think it's a good time to have kids. If you stay young and take care of yourself, you can give something more to your kids.

Q: How do you view your life, now?

A: Maybe there is something in the stars -- it's not yet my time yet to retire. But, if I lose a competition after all that hard work, it won’t devastate me like it used to because I have a family to come home to. I have much more balance in my life – I can really enjoy it now.

Tatiana Keegan is a 12-time International Latin ballroom champion who placed among the top dancers in the world at the Blackpool Dance Festival in England and won the 2000 U.S. Ballroom Championship with Tony Dovolani of “Dancing With The Stars.” In 2003, she retired to focus on her personal life, married three years later, and gave birth to her daughter, Anastasia, in 2007 at the age of 36. In January, she began an inspiring comeback on the international circuit with Werner Figar, a 27-year-old Austrian amateur national champion. In May, Tatiana & Werner won the American Star Ball outside of Philadelphia and placed 2nd at the Austrian national championship, qualifying them for the World Championship in Germany later this year. She is also the ballroom blogger for The Faster Times online newspaper.  Visit http://www.tatianawerner.com/.

Yoga I - by Cyma

It’s an interesting concept: to maintain a daily practice. Until now, I’ve never done anything consistently and/or with intent. I’ve also never had young children before. Doing daily yoga, meditation, praying, walking, or any number of rituals/practices, especially first thing in the morning, can help give you a sense of yourself for the unfolding day -- whether you will need rest or invigoration, reflection or stimulus; whether you are at peace or immersed in chaos. These practices provide you with the opportunity to reflect, revise and redo, even before the day has even begun. They help you maintain mindfulness and compassionate detachment.

I have practiced yoga for many years. Lately, I’ve been practicing it daily.

First thing in the morning (earlier than I'm used to awakening) allows for peace and quiet; scarce commodities for anyone with younger children.

Today, I started with Sun Salutations. I looked outside my bedroom window at the beautiful rising sun and the lush tapestry of green trees in my backyard. I gave thanks for it all before I rose up to the heavens. There, I thanked G-d , my spirit guides and ancestors and swept back down, touching my toes. Plank to Upward-Facing Dog helped me hug Mother Earth; Downward Facing Dog gave me pause to consider my tight hamstrings and focus on my feet. I again thanked Mother Earth for sustaining me and later reiterated this in Mountain Pose, feeling the solidity of the earth beneath me. This feeling is one of the most comforting experiences I know.

By the end of my routine – usually 20 or 40 minutes – I pretty much know what I can expect from myself during this day, and how I might approach it the easiest. I know whether I’m stiffer than usual, or more flexible; struggling more or moving with ease. While this doesn’t predetermine what will happen, it gives me some awfully good clues. It’s up to me to decide whether I want to listen to these messages and even more importantly, what I will do with them.

In my life as a new older mother, I am constantly grappling with methods to sustain me and help me rise above the ongoing chaos and turmoil of my children’s daily lives. There are days, and sometimes weeks, when my life clearly doesn’t feel like my own and my destiny feels much too out of control.

It is at these times when grasping for straws will not do. Only a method or practice can or will help you. So, next time you hear ear-piercing screams or are pulled by the hand to defend a sibling’s heinous crimes, think “Om” or whatever word works for you, and try rising above it all, remembering that centered feeling you had during your practice. Nothing will go away; it’s how you approach it that matters. It works every time.

Carbon Copy - by Cyma

My daughter wants to be like me. She watches how I walk, she watches how I talk. When I beg her to wear more than the three outfits she keeps reaching for, I must remind myself that I only wear black, black and black. No wonder she wants to wear black.

Last night, she asked for my shirt, to sleep with. This morning she is wearing it, and showing me how the sleeves nearly fit (they don’t) and how it matches her pajamas (they don’t).

My daughter acts like me: fearless, creative, brassy, and needs to be in charge of things. Oh, yea, and always wants to be right. I look at her face, and sometimes see mine. We have the same eyes, skin tone, hair color, and nearly the same body type. Another mother, but the same as me. I want to believe that her sadness, like mine, is overshadowed by a great capacity for happiness. I know she laughs more than I did at her age.

I believe that all things happen for a reason. I chose to believe that someone else birthed her so I could have her. I must say that I believe that the fit couldn’t be better. It wasn’t always this way. My first glance took my breath away. I remember holding my breath when I saw this horribly sad, confused creature. I sensed a tightness in her brain, a portent of many things to come.

I was ambivalent about it all. I didn’t take a leap of faith, I just said ‘yes,’ and nearly died afterward trying to retrace my steps and retract my words. It was all too late.

But, G-d has a plan. The plan has unfolded. Today, I reached down to take my shirt off my daughter, and catch glimpses of myself underneath. And then she laughed.

CYMA CHATS: with Dr. Rachelle Katz, author, The Happy Stepmother

Cyma: Your new book, The Happy Stepmother: 10 Steps to a Fulfilling New Life - Stay Sane, Empower Yourself, and Thrive in Your New Family, outlines several steps for providing better success with step-parenting. Can you discuss a few of them?

Rachelle: I wrote The Happy Stepmother because I was sad to see so many stepmothers struggling with a whole host of challenges. I wanted to help them overcome their problems and feel more fulfilled and content. One of the steps I recommend to achieve this goal is that stepmothers need to take care of themselves by placing their needs as a priority. Often, stepmothers are so busy taking care of others, they forget about themselves. Just by shifting their focus back to themselves, not in a selfish way, but in a way that promotes their growth and health, will help them feel happier. Another step that I believe is essential to a stepmother’s happiness is that she make her relationship with her husband a priority, right after taking care of herself. To survive the stresses of stepfamily life, stepmothers must have strong, healthy marriages.

Cyma: Many women are delaying marriage until a later age, increasing the odds that they'll now find "Mr. Right" with children. What are your thoughts on this?

Rachelle: This is certainly true of my experience. I was 39 when I got married. And, while I was mature, I found being a stepmother very challenging. I wish I knew more about stepfamilies when I got married. I would have been better prepared, and my expectations would have been more realistic. .

Cyma: Do you find that older women deal with step-parenting differently than younger women? How does "later" motherhood provide an advantage?

Rachelle: I actually believe becoming a stepmother at an older age may be harder than it is for younger women. Women who marry when older have accomplished a lot in their lives, they’ve achieved professional success, they receive respect and recognition from friends, and they’re accustomed to being treated well. Once they become stepmothers, they may find that their family does not take into account their needs, that their opinions don’t matter, and that they lack control in making decisions that affect them. This is in stark contrast to what they experience in the other areas of their lives, and therefore, more shocking and painful for them than younger women.

Cyma: Tell us a little about your own step-parenting experience? What was your greatest joy? What was your greatest sorrow?

Rachelle: I have a 23 year old stepdaughter who will be going to medical school in the fall. Compared to many stepmothers, I am lucky that my stepdaughter has always been well-behaved and respectful. I am very proud of her. She has worked hard to be where she is today. I wish I had a closer relationship with her. Spending time was very limited. She spent every other weekend with us when she was younger, went to out-of-town college, and now lives in another city. She is completely involved in her own life, as it should be, but this doesn’t allow us to be together often.

Cyma: What have you experienced as a step mom that has helped shape your life and your work?

Rachelle: I was a psychotherapist for many years before becoming a stepmother. When I became one, I suddenly felt a kinship with other women who were in this role. I started a website to explore the challenges stepmothers experience and to find practical solutions to these problems; I began monthly support groups; and I wrote The Happy Stepmother. Writing does not come easily for me, so this project felt especially important or I never would have undertaken it. Helping other stepmothers gives my life purpose and meaning.

Cyma: What one simple piece of advice can you offer someone contemplating or entering a partnership/marriage to someone who already has children?

Rachelle: Discuss your expectations. Oftentimes, men want their new wives to fulfill all maternal roles. Too many stepmothers comply, to help out their husband, bond with their stepchildren, to prove they are not wicked like the stereotypical stepmother. Stepmothers end up exhausted if they do this. I believe biological parents should take care of, and discipline their children. Husbands need to step up to the plate and also do their share of the housework.

Cyma: What are your thoughts about and advice for new "later" moms who are in situations where they must combine step-parenting with parenting their own children?

Rachelle: Again, one’s expectations are very important. Don’t expect your family to blend over time. Some families do, most don’t. So much depends on the personalities of each family member. They don’t have to love each other, or even like each other; they just need to be respectful and compassionate to each other.

Cyma: What sole factor has made your life as a step-parent easier?

Rachelle: Improving communication with my husband. We had trouble discussing problems when we first got married. He would get defensive and blame me when I brought up something that was bothering me. This would upset me, and we were off to the races. We both worked hard to more considerate of each other’s feelings and viewpoints, and to be more patient and open with each other.

Rachelle Katz, Ed.D. is a psychotherapist with 25 years in private practice in NYC. She is a licensed marriage and family therapist as well as an addictions specialist, certified in alcoholism and substance abuse counseling. In addition to her psychotherapy practice, Rachelle moderates a website, http://www.stepsforstepmothers.com/, that features an online chat room for stepmothers to support and acknowledge each other. She also run monthly stepmother support groups in NYC, and is a stepmother coach. She has been married for 19 years and has a 23-year old stepdaughter.

Watering My Children - by Cyma

I never considered myself a gardener. In fact, I can’t stand planting anything. However, I am good at watering my children. It’s very simple. Watering my children equals love. I know that because when I hug, I get a smile. When I kiss, I get a smile. And, when I hug and kiss, I get a really big smile. That’s how I know that A plus B equals C. It’s the water that does it all.

To start, I fill the pots with nurturing soil, provide an ongoing dose of fertilizer and water them daily. I let them dry out occasionally, before coming back around again. But the dryness only lasts for a short while, and it is usually due to excessive sun.

I never got the same kind of watering as a kid. In fact, it’s a miracle that I didn’t shrivel up and die, at all. But, the dearth of it, the lack of sustenance is the one thing that gave me the steely resolve and determined fortitude to live. It also provided the largest ongoing bucket of tears that a person could find. I sometimes think that it’s my tears that supply the enormous, nearly endless amount of water I provide for my children. I swear, sometimes, that I can taste the salt.

I believe that my water is good and clear and crisp. It runs exactly where it is poured. I rarely ever need to mop up the excess; it seems to go straight to the roots where it’s most needed. I sometimes wonder if I’ve wet the roots enough or even too much (my father said that I was a child who needed too much), but the body of the plants seem firm, secure and tender; the tendrils luscious and bright. I can’t imagine that any child needs too much love, especially mine. I suppose if they do, I’ll work on finding the drain.

Memorial Day (ode to my marriage) - by Cyma

Memorial Day usually means parades and barbeques, a chance to have ‘family time,’ the beginning of summer. On this weekend 14 years ago, I got married – a lifetime ago if we count all the experiences, life changes and myriad of adjustments that have taken place. During that time, I also turned 50.

I routinely use this weekend to assess my marriage. There were several years where I was just plain unhappy; one or two when I was in neutral; a few where I was in lust and still more where I was enraged.

I remember an old friend commenting that she no longer exchanges anniversary cards or presents. She also does not wear her wedding ring. I have never not exchanged gifts; however, last year, I went several weeks without wearing my ring. The incident was intended to convey a strong message and to test the waters -- to see how it would feel, and how others would feel about me. It felt equally liberating and sad. I eventually put my ring back on – a testament to my husband’s commitment to regroup and get help. I have not taken it off, since.

I have never understood the ins and outs of relationships. For me, I was either ‘in’ or ‘out.’ I think that marriage allows you many options – to stay ‘in’ while being ‘out;’ to stay ‘out’ while being ‘in;’ to think about being ‘out’ while being ‘in.’ You know what I mean. The list of options goes on and on.

I got married because I decided I would. I decided that this would be the last personal ad I would write, the last boyfriend I would date. I decided on that first blind date that I would marry him. I found out later that he decided the same. Just before I got married, I had a brief moment of realization that I would never kiss anyone else again. I was panic-stricken. It was fleeting.

Growing up watching my parents, I had a very hard act to follow – they are definitely soul mates. My husband and I are not. For a long time, I felt very sad about it. I can’t say that I’ve ever given up longing for this, but I can say that I’m more comfortable, now, not having it.

In recent months, I sense an ease between us: an almost second coming. I feel like we’re on a new plane with new rules and regulations. I think we like each other again; we’re working on the love part. I wish it came easier. But, we came into this with our own deep emotional issues and more than enough baggage. It’s taken all this time to even land in neutral; to not be fired up with every discussion or chaotic incident which had befallen us. Now, I feel a sense of hope, of renewal, of strength. I also feel a sense of purpose, of acceptance, and even of love.

At this stage in life/marriage, many people choose to go their separate ways. I think that this has taught me that it is also possible to regroup and come together again in a better, more solid way. I wasn’t used to the nuances. Remember, either ‘in’ or ‘out.’

I don’t think that I’ll think as much about my marriage this Memorial Day. This is a testament to our recently reaffirmed bond and commitment. However, I do think I will, as I always do, memorialize the day and the year. Happy Anniversary, dear.

The Consignment Sale - by Cyma

Last weekend, my husband and I spent two days preparing items to take to my old neighbor’s bi-annual consignment sale. This is not your usual consignment sale; this is the mother of consignment sales. My neighbor prepares for months, delegating tasks, advertising and marketing this well-known event. We prepare for months, by adding old things to our now old-familiar consignment sale paper bags. These bags are hidden in closets and tucked away awaiting final examination. The items are then transferred to well-marked boxes and transported to the Event.

From the end of one sale, in the Spring, to the other sale, in the Winter, nearly every week is spent assessing the viability of too-small clothes, no longer used toys and ‘gently used’ accessories. I must confess that every stain that appears on my children’s clothing, every rip I find represents lost dollars and a futile attempt to make good on something now seemingly bad. I’ve spent countless hours spraying and respraying stain remover on grass, blood and crayon in the hope that I can recycle that one piece at the tag sale. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t.

For us, the days leading up to the sale are a ritual, and one that takes on the tone of the High Holidays – this is when we get to assess; reassess; atone for past mistakes (i.e. items needlessly torn or broken during fun times, or during a fit of rage); and attempt to make better. We get to say goodbye to things no longer needed, items which came with memories, and items which have a story of their own. And of course, I, especially, feel the familiar sadness that comes with knowing that the clock can’t be turned back; that you, and your children can’t recapture time gone by. While they continue to race toward the finish line – “when I get older…………..,” I can’t wait until I get older……………..” -- and seem to delight in adding their no longer needed items to the pile, I keep holding on to the past, reluctantly parting with all of this, knowing full well that the finish line never looks the same when you are standing at the starting gate.

The act of preparing for this Event takes on a life of its own: we separate the clothing from the toys; tag all items on the right side of each piece with the gold and silver safety pins we receive with our participant package; and list each corresponding item on the inventory sheet, being careful to disclose the type, size, wearer’s gender and, of course, the price. Nearly always, the price becomes a bone of contention between us – should we reduce it to nothing just to get rid of it, should we charge fair market value to recoup our original investment? Should we just get rid of things that are no longer useful by selling them, or should we donate them to much needier people? Ultimately, does any of this matter at all?

Once tagged, our items must be placed in boxes labeled with our name and participant number. This year, I sent in my prerequisite deposit money many, many weeks ago. I was sure I was the first to do so. I wanted the coveted #1 spot. I have been #3 and #5 during years when I raced to her house to give her our deposit. This year, I wanted the prize before the event. Our neighbor granted us our wish and secured our place firmly in (what I consider to be) the top spot. I was so excited that I bought #1 Award tags and affixed them to all our boxes. I made sure to show her that she made my day.

This time I had 68 items; actually 64 a few days ago, but the straggler pieces – things that I just stumbled on throughout the house -- were added and added until finally we brought the boxes to her. Yesterday, I found something else to sell, but yesterday was too late. That item was placed in the new paper bag, awaiting the next sale this Winter.

GUEST BLOG POST: Spirituality? Yes..... by Cyma Shapiro-Roland

Spirituality has always been a buzz word for me. But, now as an over-50 mom to two youngsters, I think it’s my mantra.

Living in my later 40’s, without full-time children (I had two teenage step children), I was feeling my vitality, my power; enjoying my professional success and my many friends. I had it all, right? But, something was missing. I was a seeker; I just needed to find other avenues and other arenas to challenge me.

But, while nearing 50…….something hit me. Heck, I was getting older. I may have felt and looked much younger…but the joke was on me. Truly. Here was that nagging, never-ending question: to have or not have children. As a half-century of living loomed on the horizon, the question wouldn’t go away, the fears just increased, and the cacophony got much, much louder. What to do? I couldn’t hear the answer. Yes?

So, at an age when most women are sending their children off to college; changing careers (or husbands); starting perimenopause, and looking twice (or three times in a row) in the mirror, I realized that it was time to play catch up. Fast. That tiny, tiny inside voice calling for more was being drowned out by external expectations…………..until I said, ‘yes.’ I began to exhale.
Here’s where the real spiritual journey began.

The attempt to get and have my kids (from Russia – I’m of Russian ancestry) seemed to others like my sole end goal. However, for me, the real end goal was the spiritual epiphany that the multiple trips provided. My love of Eastern Europe – satisfied (the pictures of the “Steerage” by Alfred Steiglitz; imagining my grandmother as she sailed from Russia was now right before my eyes); my belief that overseas travel would always be that looming experience which I’d pack and emotionally brace for weeks in advance – shattered (try traveling 10,000 miles on a day’s notice); my belief in my inability to travel and sustain myself safely – gone (try traveling in a country fraught with turmoil and intrigue); my belief that I couldn’t sustain instantaneous early motherhood (that is, gaining a one-yr. old without one day of pregnancy) gone in a flash; the belief that all those friends, neighbors and coworkers would understand just what I had done and why - gone (are you “craaaazy?”); the belief that I couldn’t be a new mother at my age – yes - I could.

My life changed in an instant. That instant followed the word ‘yes.’

So, it’s more than possible to change your life, to personally grow beyond your wildest dreams -- all you need to do is say ‘yes.’ It’s often using the fewest words, and having the clearest intentions that guide you back to yourself and your peace.

Oh, yes, and spirituality.


Cyma Shapiro-Roland is a later mom, writer and businesswoman living in West Hartford, CT. At present, she is working on a book about new mothers over-40.

Gratitude is Just a Nine-Letter Word - by Cyma

For many years in my yoga classes (pre-children), I had trouble finding the ‘gratitude’ that the teachers requested of us, especially during our parting word, “Namaste” (meaning: the light/spirit in me acknowledges the light/spirit in you). While I knew that it was necessary to acknowledge the goodness in my life; the people who had sustained me; the loves I had found; and the joys that I experienced, the truth was that I was always just surviving the day only to run home and find solace and peace in the solitude of my home, alone. The truth was that I was rarely happy.

It was only after the arrival of my children, that I began counting my blessings. Suddenly, the simplicity of things became much more apparent, and the necessity to make things more simple, vital. Before long I was (easily) finding words of faith during nightly meals and High Holidays, and I began thanking people for the good deeds/words/hugs/praises/gestures they would bestow me. It took me many months before I realized that although my children had opened my heart and soul, it was actually me who was morphing into a kinder, gentler creature -- still Type-A, but with a much, much softer edge. After many years of self-loathing, I was becoming someone I thought I could come to like.

Now, it wasn’t so important to make that deal; dress to kill; or drive a car that people envied. I didn’t have to prove myself to the entire world. It wasn’t necessary to always be “on top,” or more importantly, to be “on.” In my new life with young children, “on” meant awake and functioning and “on top” meant having a day unfold without any major meltdowns, lost items, forgotten appointments or irresolvable crises. A ‘good day’ was one in which I was called upon to constantly reassess family situations and provide good, sometimes clever, and nearly always instantaneous responses, many of which surprised me…. about me!

While I felt I lost myself during early motherhood, I prayed that I would somehow come out the other side with a better set of expectations about the world, a more realistic view of my (length of) time on earth and more peace and joy than was previous experienced. Before that time, I think I rarely experienced much peace and joy at all.

Although my childrearing years have come at a later age than most, and there are certainly days that I ponder and sometimes grieve the truth of that, I am now nearly always hopeful about myself, my life and the lifetime of potential for my children.

Having gratitude provides a constant stream of strength and power which I draw from daily in my quest for a good, compassionate and life-affirming existence. I pray often and constantly give thanks. I am now just grateful to be alive, AND to have my children.

Mother's Day Cards - by Cyma

I remember the first Mother's Day card I received. It was six years ago. I'd been a new mom for two months. I was more than timid about reading the card; nearly embarrassed about acknowledging my new-found status.

It was similar to an incident which occurred around the same time. While at a local Blockbuster, my baby called out to me in front of some acquaintances. Unaware that I'd become a new mom, they nearly paled when they saw that I was the recipient. I couldn't face them directly, but caught their disbelief out of the corner of my eye. I was almost embarrassed for them. I wondered whether I appeared "motherly enough;" whether they'd ever seen me in that light.

I also remember strolling my baby around town and having people express surprise seeing me as a new mom. They would smile and say I 'wore it well,' but I wasn't sure how to act or what to do. The armor I'd worn in public was stripped - the world could now see what I'd always longed for (but hidden), would witness a more transparent person, not the one who carefully presented the image she had wanted to. Suddenly, I was part of a club which I'd never ever thought I'd join, nor believed that I could ever be a member.

"Motherhood" held a different meaning to me than before I had children. I realized that while nearly everyone could be a mother, not everyone could wear motherhood well.
So, finding myself in these new 'clothes,' I kept squirming -- the arms were too long, the neck too tight; they were often too baggy or the wrong color. There was that same old familiar embarrassment, again.

Which brings me back to the Mother's Day cards. As the years passed, the cards felt more appropriate, the words more endearing. The printed words "Mother or "Mom" made me more joyful, made my heart skip a beat. So, while the experience became more customary and usual, it was the 'same old, same old,' but in a very, very good way.

This year, as I am looking forward to getting all my cards (breakfast in bed and presents?), I will gratefully open them and express my surprise/gratitude/happiness with laughter/crying/joy. And, while I surely will express myself a little more exuberantly than usual, it will only be because I am just glad to be here and celebrating a day which now feels right for me.  Mother's Day.

Mother's Day Delight

Today is a day to celebrate.

Happy Mother's Day.

The Long Wave Goodbye - by Cyma

Today, I waved to my daughter riding away on the bus. The silly kind of wave – two arms, as if flagging down a passing ship. We both continued waving until the bus was out of sight. Walking back to my house, I had a lump in my throat. I am sad.

I guess I’m sad for the lack of these experiences with my own mother; sad for the time which is passing so quickly; sad, too, that I see that my parenting must be working well – my own daughter still longs for me. I did not have that with my own mother. I will continue to try my hardest to fulfill that need, until her hands stop reaching for mine, the arm waves stop and I see her waving to her friends, not me. That time is coming. In fact, it’s just around the corner.

Writer Kelly Salasin recently blogged, “There are so many deaths in mothering, beginning at the beginning, and arriving every day after. But equally matched with these deaths are the blessings of a new life – new growth – new possibility.” These words are haunting me. I spent so much time trying to keep things the same. Having kids changed that. I spent so much time trying to live the same life. Having kids changed that. I spent all my time trying to keep people out, and keeping my life (force) in. Having kids changed that, too.

When my children arrived, I listened to little that people said. Everyone had advice, even if mostly unsolicited. They didn’t understand the traumas we all adjusted to; they didn’t understand the struggles we’d all had just to get here. But, the one thing I heard and followed was to ‘cherish these times wisely.’ (Translation: be in the now). I say this daily. I pray with these words.

So, the next time the bus drives away from our house, I will wave with gusto, count all my blessings, and cry if I need to. I’m in the now of my life.

Kid-Friendly Travel -- by Cyma

Vacation week. It’s taken me a while to catch on, but I’m now getting more and more clever.

Psssst. Get closer. I’ll let you in on my secret: IT’S MUCH EASIER TO TAKE CHILDREN OVERSEAS THAN IT IS TO TRAVEL WITHIN THIS COUNTRY.

Now, I know you’re laughing, or probably scrunching up your face, but consider this: last year we vacationed in North Carolina – nearly 800 miles away from our home in Connecticut. It took us TWO FULL days to get there; it was scorching hot; we heard nothing but belly-aching; we had to stop G-d knows how many times to empty someone’s bladder; were stuck in endless traffic jams, and by the time we got there, we were beyond pooped.

I spent days packing, at least one day unpacking, and literally just moved one week’s worth of toys, clothes, food, linens, etc. from Point A to Point B. Seven days later, I repeated this exercise in reverse.

This may have been somewhat of a vacation for my husband and children, but by the time we arrived home, I had lost years off my life and truly needed days to recouperate. Now, I needed a vacation.

When we fly overseas, we pack (yes, we take food, toys and clothing); drive to the airport; fly; drive from the airport to a destination a few hours away and stay put. From there we take simple day-trips; see things we’ve never seen; eat food we’ve never eaten and my children are usually very, very quiet. (Watch a 5 yr. old trying to understand or read Italian or French. They’re quiet and reserved; heck, they CAN”T FIGURE IT OUT!!)

So notwithstanding money issues, and a few preplanned future trips to Disneyland, Grand Canyon and San Francisco, I’m happy with this arrangement. More importantly, my children not only get to see the world, but realize that getting anywhere in the world isn’t fraught with dilemmas – it’s only a plane-ride away.

I dare you to try it.


Note: Cyma left with her family (her children are 5 & 7) for Belgium, France and Holland on 4/15. They have already been to Russia, Italy and Ireland.