Having Fun on Facebook - By Cara Potapshyn Meyers

I must admit. I have absolutely no holiday spirit whatsoever. In fact, I was going to write this blog about my lethargic attitude regarding the Holidays and title it, “Skipping Christmas.” Then something unexpected, magical and all out FUN happened on Facebook a few nights ago!

I know many of you use Facebook as a source to either connect with friends and/or relatives. I do the same. Some of you even use it as a business avenue, as Motherhood Later does. Then there are those of us who love to play a couple of the games on Facebook. Yes, I hear the groans. But keep reading because you will at least enjoy the story!

I am a Farmville devote (I hear more groans, but also some cheers!). Since my life has been a whirlwind of chaos and stress over the past year and a half, I have gone onto Facebook and entered my farm site and when I am there, it is almost as if I am living in a different world. I can pick and choose how I want to decorate my farm. Decide what I want to participate in. And feel a sense of accomplishment as I watch my farm grow and beautify.

I started out with about three farm neighbors. Your farm neighbors help you tend to your farm and you reciprocate. Over this past year and a half, I have resurrected a forgotten friendship with a friend I worked with years ago. I also have her husband as a neighbor. This friend introduced me to several other farmers who wanted neighbors...people I’ve never met, but have had lovely conversations with outside of Farmville through the messaging medium. My best friend is my neighbor and has asked if I would take on several of her farm neighbors as well. They are funny, sweet people I would have never have met or known otherwise. I even have a set of teen twins as neighbors! Who would have thought??

There also seem to be patterns as to when certain neighbors play. There is the early morning group who play before they go to work (I know because my iPhone “dings” when they leave me a message on my farm site!). There are the mid-late afternoon players who want to get their “fix” in before they have to settle into their evening routines. Then there are the late night/early morning farmers. I typically fall into this category as my son doesn’t fall asleep until close to 10pm. Finally there are the “night owls,” who don’t start playing until 1am and go to 3 or 4am (again, my phone dings, so I know!).

Well, a few nights ago, I started out as a late-nighter, and ended up a “night owl!” Farmville puts various “missions” out at random points in time. Usually these missions involve collecting materials from your neighbors to build a barn or expand a chicken coop, etc. On this particular night, out came something new and different! This new mission was to build a snowman and have a snowball fight while you are doing it! I was having such a blast throwing snowballs at neighbors as they were quickly throwing them back, virtually! There must have been at least a half dozen of us playing all at the same time! You could barely get a snowball message posted when another snowball was virtually coming your way! At 1 am, no less! I was giggling and enjoying myself with my Farm Friends immensely!

The following morning, I entered my farm getting virtually smacked in the face by the early risers! The fun continued!

So, although I still may not be in the Holiday spirit, this game has certainly gotten me into the Winter spirit! At this point, I’ll take any spirit I can get!

(“Splat”...Ugh! They got me again!)

A Very Special Place - By Cara Potapshyn Meyers

I experienced another stressful and unexpected event in my life last week. I think I am getting used to all of these stressful and unexpected events that occur almost daily, if not weekly. This one, however, truly touched my soul. And it pertains to my dog, Maxi. My favorite of my two dogs. My “doggie soul mate,” if you will. Yet, unlike all of the other stressful and unexpected events that have been occurring in my life, this one has a very happy ending. However, I digress.

Last Thursday my husband and I took our dog, Maxi, for a check up. I knew going into the appointment that I had many questions and some anxiety about certain issues Maxi was experiencing. The biggest of those issues was that Maxi had 3 golf ball size fatty lipomas in his upper chest. We had one biopsied a year ago, which turned out to be benign. However, over the past year, Maxi developed two more, with one extending under his armpit. The Veterinarian who examined him last year, was concerned about the spreading of the lipoma because he told us that if the lipoma spread much more under the arm pit, it could put pressure on some nerves that run through the arm pit area and cause some nerve function difficulties, possibly making it difficult for Maxi to walk.

Maxi had other issues as well: He had something on his chest that looked like a Melanoma. He had a growth on one of his front paws that he licked constantly. The licking was causing a minor infection. He also had dental problems. And to my surprise, there was a mass growing on Maxi’s gums that the doctors were most concerned and suspicious of. And all of this had to be taken into consideration with Maxi’s age of 12 years old.

Knowing that Maxi is truly my dog, my husband deferred the decision of Maxi having surgery to me. And I had the option of having some of the issues taken care of, all of the issues dealt with, or do nothing. I asked the Vet what the procedure would entail if I decided to have everything taken care of. He outlined step by step what Maxi would be going through. Additionally, because we would having the surgery at this Veterinary Hospital, we were also told that we could leave Maxi for a few days in their “Rehab” area. In that area, he would be watched 24 hours a day by a Vet and assistant staff who would be doing all of the aftercare for Maxi such as change bandages, give medication, etc. That sealed the deal in my mind. Because we have another dog in our home along with a rambunctious child, I was enamored with the fact that Maxi would be in the main hospital facility for two days and then transferred to “rehab” after that for several days of aftercare. I gave the Vet the go ahead as my poor dog sat on my feet, trembling, and looking up to me for reassurance. I bent down, hugged him close and with as much mind power that I could muster, I told Maxi, through my eyes, that he would be perfectly fine, but that I would be there for him and he would absolutely be coming back home to me. I could swear I felt him trembling a little less after that.

Due to the fact that my husband had to go back to work, and we came with only one car, my husband drove me home so that I could get my own car along with my laptop to keep my mind distracted with busywork during the surgery.

As I was driving back to the hospital, the Vet called me on my cell phone to say that they took blood from Maxi and did chest x-rays to see if the lipomas has spread to a more dangerous or complicated degree. I was told that Maxi’s blood work was like “that of a puppy,” which meant that he would probably withstand anesthesia well. And the chest x-rays showed the lipomas with the spreading of tissue under the armpit, but nothing that looked dangerous. This meant Maxi was cleared for surgery.

From start to finish, the surgery took 6 hours. And this incredible Vet took the time to come out and explain what had been done with each issue that needed intervention. He was calm, warm, caring and compassionate. I needed this Vet as the one to oversee Maxi’s surgery. Heck, I needed this Vet to oversee me!

I prayed for a good outcome every step of the way. I asked God to watch over Maxi because besides my son, Maxi is all I have in this world. I wrote on Facebook for my friends to please pray for Maxi. I received an outpouring of well wishes and speedy recovery messages from that post, along with messages to help me think positively. My friends are a huge part of my world. They comforted me to no end.

And now for the special part. Once the surgery was over, the Vet came out to tell me how successful everything went. He knew I looked drained. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, as I felt nauseous throughout the whole 6-hour ordeal. He helped me pack up my things and told me to go home and that I could call later to check up on Maxi. I could have kissed this man. He was a hero in my eyes.

Now, the fact that this animal hospital has a “rehab” center is amazing in and of itself. It also has a boarding facility where healthy dogs are boarded when their owners go away. We board both of our dogs there too. And the staff in the boarding facility love Maxi just as much (well, maybe not just as much) as I do. When I spoke to the clerical staff, they put me on the phone with one of the young men who I knew well from the boarding area. He told me how well Maxi was doing. He also told me that he crawled into Maxi’s cage and laid down with him for about 15 minutes and rubbed Maxi’s back as Max gave this young man a “face bath.” I was shocked. Where would someone at an animal hospital get into an animal’s cage to comfort them? I told this young man that I absolutely couldn’t thank him enough and that he made my evening much less stressful knowing that someone gave my dog some extra attention.

The next day, Maxi was doing so well, that instead of spending two days in the hospital facility, Maxi was going to be transferred to the “rehab” facility a day early. When I spoke with another young man who happened to also love Maxi, he told me how well Max was doing and offered to take a couple pictures of Maxi with his cell phone and e-mail them to me (see below). I was blown away!! Where in the world would employees take the time to take a picture of your animal for you while in the hospital and e-mail them to you?? I told him he made my day like he couldn’t imagine.

And the most important thing was not only the love, caring and attention Maxi received, but that the same doctor called every single day, right after he finished “rounds” to give me a medical update on Maxi! I am blown away by this incredible and amazing facility. I have had family members in real hospitals that never received this level of care and attention!! And to even track down a doctor, any doctor, to find out how your family member was doing was a full-time job in and of itself!

My Maxi will probably be home and resting on my bed as you read this. I needed to share this incredible situation because I kept thinking, “What if it was my son who had this type of surgery?” I would be allowed to stay in his room and hold his little hand, but would he get the same level of caring, love and compassion from the employees? Would he be made to feel as “special,” as my dog was? To be quite honest, I highly doubt it. I do know that Pediatric hospital staff tends to have more compassion and caring than employees who take care of the adult staff. But to find such exceptional care for a dog is beyond incredible. Perhaps actual medical staff that takes care of people should do rotations at this veterinary hospital. Maybe medicine, like old dogs, could be taught some necessary new tricks.

I would like to thank the entire staff at the Long Island Veterinary Specialists hospital. Every single employee made me and my dog feel special and cared for. The surgical team was exemplary. The rehab employees were priceless. And a very special thank you to Anthony and Eric for loving my dog as if he was their own!

What a Difference a Day Makes by Robin Gorman Newman

A week ago, I was preparing to go into NYC to attend our first MotherhoodLater.com outing to a Broadway musical. ...the show MILLION DOLLAR QUARTET.  I was excited and looking forward to meeting everyone, and reconnecting with those I already knew.  My husband, who was coming as well, had driven into Manhattan that morning, so we'd have the car to return home after the show.

We arranged for a sitter for my son.  My senior dad was coming over as well to spend the weekend with us (his live-in aide was going home), so things felt like they were under control and looking good.

Well.....as my beloved mom used to say (may she rest in peace)....."We make our plans, and G-d makes his."

Just as Seth stepped off the school bus and entered the house, I was beginning what would be a night of acute abdominal, pelvic pain such as I have never know.  Out of the blue, I was doubled-over and barely able to walk.  I quickly called my husband and told him I didn't think I could make the play.  My hope was that whatever this was would subside and I'd be ok.  That wasn't the case.  I placed an emergency call to my gastro doc who I had just seen that week, and left a message with their afterhours service.  Disappointingly, no one called back in a timely fashion, so in the interim, at the urging of a good friend, I reached out to my neighbor (who we are friendly with) and asked if he would do me a big favor and run me over ASAP to the emergency room of North Shore Hospital, which is fortunately within easy reach.

He readily obliged and waited with me until they took me in.  At that point, I was alone, aside from the doctors, nurses, etc., who pretty quickly sprung into action.  That was comforting, though the ordeal was very scary since it was 24 hours before we knew the source of my pain and all kinds of thoughts ran through my mind.  And, it was at least an hour before they gave me IV painkiller which didn't kick in immediately.  So, I spent considerable time digging my nails into my hands and groaning.  Luckily, I was given a private room in the ER, and ultimately, my husband joined me for what turned out to be an entire, sleepless, anxious night of tests and waiting.  At least there was, surprisingly, a tv in the room.

It turned out I have a urinary tract infection (not the pain source) and a very small kidney stone (definitely the pain source) which we hope was passing at the time, and that I'm now done with it.  We don't know for sure, but since I've been feeling considerably better, we want to believe that is the case.

All this said, I found it to be both a humbling and empowering experience.  Humbling in that I was totally at the mercy of strangers at the hospital to care for me, and I entrusted them with my life and health, which meant abandoning control, which I always like to feel I have (though we know this isn't true).  Life is a team effort. And, we are all vulnerable, and sometimes it takes the kindness of strangers to help get us through. As a mom, wife and daughter, I'm so used to being in the caretaker mode.  It felt a bit like a foreign experience being the one doted on. (I think I'm overdue for a pampering foot massage.)

Additionally, I was hugely grateful for the support of friends and immediate family who were so there for me....mostly via email and text (I had my Blackberry with me)....and it was comforting to know that I wasn't alone and to feel the love and concern.  Amazing how it takes an emergency to reinforce in your (or my mind) who truly cares and is available to you.

I spent a lot of time thinking about Seth and wondered what he was thinking since he saw his mother run out of the house enroute to the hospital.  I didn't want to frighten him, so I put on a brave, if not grimaced, face.  He would have found the ER an interesting place, since he is all about helping people and finds medical stuff cool, especially ambulances and paramedics.

I also became highly conscious of the value of time and how I spend it. Life goes on, whether I'm sitting 24-7 at my computer or not.  There's a big world out there, and while I recognize the huge benefts of being online, it's also important to venture out, take time to be with people, have new experiences, grow, etc.  I yearn to do more of all of that.

Treasuring the moment also came up for me.  Things can change on a dime.  From one minute to the next, life may throw us a zinger we didn't see coming, and we have to be strong and go with the flow. Things can also change in a good, exciting way, so ya never know what tomorrow may bring.  We wouldn't necessarily want things to remain stagnant, though no one wants to suffer or see a loved one go through a rough time.

All in all, in an odd way, I'm grateful for having had this experience.  Not that I'd ever opt to endure a kidney stone episode again, I value the life lessons I took away.  And, I'm grateful I was able to go home without requiring surgery or involved treatment....though I have to follow-up with a urologist and allergist (since I had a mild allergic reaction to the antibiotic prescribed).

In the short time since turning 50 (since 8/11), it's already been eventful.  If this is any predictor for the decade I've yet to fully experience, it's going to be a wild ride.  I am hopeful it will offer more joyful times than challenges, but I recognize that life has it's ebbs 'n flows, so I'm going to focus as best I can on what makes me happy today.  I can't do more than that.

The Conundrum Over Wine Glasses - by Cara

I am currently in the midst of a heated debate regarding a set of wine glasses I gave to a close friend recently. I first saw them on a Facebook group site called,

“OMG, I so need a glass of wine, or I’m gonna sell my kids!!”

This group has a following of 109,646 fans. So I am obviously not the only one who can relate to this group! I bought a pair of these glasses with the full group tag imprinted on the wine glasses for myself, as well as a pair that just said, “OMG, I so need a glass of wine!” A friend saw these and LOVED them, so I bought her a set, with the complete logo as a gift, and she frequently calls or texts me that she is pulling out those glasses after the kids are asleep!

Enter one of my other close friends. She typically has bottles of wine and wine coolers lined up on top of her refrigerator. And she frequently mentions that as soon as her son goes to bed, she is having a tall glass of wine. Well, I thought that these “OMG” wine glasses would be great for her to have too! I even bought her the ones that just said,”OMG, I so need a glass of wine,” just in case she didn’t want to use the ones with the reference towards selling your kids with certain company. Well, as it turned out, she was appalled. And she needed to mention that not only was SHE appalled, she showed the glasses to her family and fiends and they were appalled as well! I apologized for offending her and offered to take the glasses back or suggest that she give them away or even throw them out if they offended her so much. She said that she wanted to keep them (?).

I was then forwarded an article by one of our other Motherhood Later bloggers regarding the issue of Mom’s needing a drink at the end of the day to take the edge off,

“All Joy and No Fun...Why Parents Hate Parenting,”

from New York Magazine. This article quotes a Mom who states, “The Children’s Museum of Manhattan - a nice place, but what it really needs is a bar.” This is just not a select group of Moms who fall into this category. There are Parenting Podcasts where the hosts readily admit to needing a drink of wine at the end of the day. There are Parenting Forums where literally hundreds of Moms admit that parenting is far from easy and that a drink at the end of the day helps them to unwind.

I need to add that I am not at all pro-drinking. In fact, I rarely drink at all due to the plethora of medications I take. And I am definitely not advocating drinking to such excess that it begins to impair your life or you need it to get through each day. But a glass of wine now and then, or socially, I believe is perfectly acceptable. Especially when you come home at the end of the day and find a myriad of toys strewn around, crayon marks on the walls, a bathroom that is drenched from you child wanting to give their stuffed animals a bath (and end up wrapped in your child’s sheets to “dry off,” i.e. remake bed). I can see wanting to grab something to relax you before you try to calmly deal with each of these issues.

So back to my wine glasses. What do you think? I gave them to one friend who adores them and one friend who is horrified by them. I guess having glasses that indicate that you would want to sell your kids is a bit much. And I don’t think I will be giving them as gifts to any other friends, unless upon specific request. But considering the circumstances, was I reading into my appalled friend a little too much, and subtly indicating that she has a drinking problem (which I certainly was not), or was she over reacting to what I considered a humorous, harmless gift?

Please give me your feedback. I am interested to know what you think.

Infertility and Friends -- by Laura

I spent five years trying to get pregnant. Desperately. It was the most painful thing I have ever been through, and when the test finally came back positive, the world seemed like and all-you-can-eat buffet of joy. But not everybody was happy for me. And I understand why.

When I was trying to get pregnant, it seemed like everyone else in the world could get pregnant but me. Every other month I was pushing a shopping cart through Babies-R-Us, until I just couldn’t even drive past the exit without wanting to throw up in my mouth. There was only one other person in my life who could not get pregnant. One of my best friends. I’ll call her Liz. We had been friends for over 15 years, and when we were together, we laughed like mad women. And our lives seem to parallel in so many ways, so when we both started trying to have children, we believed were in it together, and together we would triumph.

At first we were sort of private about our attempts. We wanted to endure the dreaded two-week wait alone. But we went through the same treatments at almost the exact same time. We even had the same doctor for the first two rounds of IVF. But as we continued our treatments, Liz became more and more bitter and more and more competitive. She was a wealthy woman, so she could afford to do more rounds of IVF and go to private clinics with more personalized care. I knew my shots were limited, so I plowed through books, trolled the Internet, and joined an infertility support group to gather as much information as I could. When I would present my findings to her over coffee, she called me obsessed and dismissed the conversation.

Liz was right. I was obsessed. If you want to get pregnant when you’re 40, you have to be. So I was, and I did.

There came a day when I had to tell Liz I was pregnant, and I knew I wanted to tell her in a good way. I wanted to tell her before I told my other friends so she would not hear it second hand. I wanted to tell her quietly and in person when her husband was there so he could be there to support her. I wanted to be calm and quick about it, and make sure the conversation shifted to other things at the right time. I practiced. My husband shook his head.

The right time came to tell her. It was a late November morning, and I had just hit the three-month mark. I drove an hour to her house, brought her muffins, drank tea and sat in her kitchen chatting about nothing in particular. Just catching up. Then when the muffins were eaten and the tea finished, I did it. “I’m pregnant,” I said. I could hear her heart break. I knew that feeling. I had sat where she sat many times over the last five years. It is miserable. It’s as if a sheet of shame has settled on the heart because you know you are supposed to be happy. You know you are, but all you want to do is curl up in the corner and cry.

Liz stammered. And stuttered. And I could see her face flush while her mind raced. She kept swallowing even though the tea was long gone. Her husband came in the room and placed a hand on her shoulder. I began to talk quickly. I felt like I needed to apologize, and I remember saying how hard it had all been and that I was still scared. And it was going to be a rough pregnancy with twins. “Twins?” she said. “You have twins?” And I could feel her world fall out from under her.

I changed the subject to her. To her adoption process. To her job. And then I said I had to go. She was relieved. And when we said goodbye, there were no congratulations from her. There was no more acknowledgment. I didn’t expect there to be.

After that day, she did not reply to my emails. She did not return my phone calls. She sent me a Christmas card but did not sign her name. I did receive a mass email from her four months later that she had successfully adopted a baby girl. I sent her a note congratulating her and wishing her the greatest happiness, but I never heard back.

To say I was hurt and angry about it is an understatement. At the same time, I knew exactly how she felt. I hoped that with the adoption of her daughter that somehow we could mend things. That her heart would be put back together. I was going to reach out and send her an email, but then my husband said, “Why would you want to reconnect with someone who treated you so badly while you tried to get pregnant and then was unhappy for you when you did?”

He had a good point. But there are other things to consider. Infertility brings out the worst in people. It’s a sad, sad thing. It’s grotesquely painful. Did she act badly? Sure. Would I have done the same thing? I don’t think so. My friendships are precious.

Perhaps it is time to let go. Perhaps there wasn’t the friendship there that I believed was there. But if I let my heart speak, it has its own take on the situation. It wants to pick up the phone and call her, so we can laugh the way we used to. It wants to see an email from her in my inbox with one of her silly titles. It would even take a Christmas card she didn’t bother to sign.

Playdate Peer Pressue -- by Robin

When does peer pressure start to influence your child?

We had a playdate this past weekend, and I was somewhat stunned at the behavior of my son. His friend came over, and he's a bit younger than Seth, and a very active boy. Seth is too, but at times, it felt like this boy topped him.

The plan was to play in our newly refurbished basement. And, his parents came too. We're all good friends, so it was a good opportunity for everyone to socialize. And, we were excited to showcase our basement and to be able to share it, since the whole construction process was quite the ordeal (if you read my previous blog).

From the moment the boy arrived, things felt a bit wild in the house. They wound up running up 'n down the stairs, playing in Seth's room, the hall, in the basement...all over the house. I had baked a quiche, and was serving lunch in the basement for my friends, and had made mac 'n cheese for the boys. Certainly, we knew in all their excitement of being together, shooting Nerf guns, etc., that taking a lunch break was no where on their minds. That was okay. But, what transpired was not okay in my book.

As they rain upstairs, they deliberately pushed the sliding lock on the basement door (outside the door), and locked the three adults in the basement. We could not get out. It was very unsettling. We banged on the door and yelled and yelled, and finally they let us out. And, then 10 minutes later, they did it again, despite our scolding them.

This time I had enough, and my friend asked for a screwdriver removed the lock from the door, and I took the two boys in the kitchen, sat them down to eat their now cold lunch, and we had a discussion about behavior, safety, etc.

I told Seth there would be punishment for his behavior, and that mommy and daddy would discuss it and let him know what it is. My friends said that it wasn't Seth's fault. That their son was involved as well, but that didn't make it any better for me. Seth didn't stop it.

What arose for me with this experience is of great concern. Seth is six...soon to be seven....and at what age do kids just go along with other kids, even if they know their behavior isn't ideal? And, actually downright dangerous.

I said to my husband that Seth needs to learn a big lesson from this. But, is it possible at his young age? Is it too much to expect a six year old to grasp that he doesn't have to go along with the crowd, or even just one other child?

And, what happens as he gets older? Today, it's locking a basement door. They'll be countless other influences and influencers who come into his life as he matures. Will he be discerning enough to resist? Will he emerge a leader vs. a follower?

How can you as parent instill in your child an innate sense of what is right and wrong? Is it possible?

We can't be by his side 24-7, especially as he spends more and more time with friends, and less with mommy & daddy, so he will need to reach conclusions on his own.

I do want to set in place an understanding of values that he can apply to help guide him through life in a positive way.

I'd love to hear from you. Do you have older children, and how have you dealt with this matter? If you have younger children, is it something you think about? Please do share....I welcome stories and advice.

PS -- Be sure to sign up for our free monthly newsletter at www.MotherhoodLater.com. The February giveaway is courtesy of Lisa Leonard Designs, makes of something unique custom jewelry & more, enjoyed by celebrities and others.

Happy Birthday, to Me... -- by Jamie

It’s my birthday today. Or, as I like to call it every year, the start of my “birthday month.” I love my birthday, and this year, as I launch a new decade, it seems like more of a reason to celebrate than ever. Weeks ago, as this milestone day was approaching, and Jayda became involved in the party planning and discussions of all the festivities, she asked me, “Are you going to be 2-1/2?” I answered, “No,” and with resounding enthusiasm, informed her, “I’m going to be FORTY!” “Wow!” she responded. But since she can only count up to 20, she really has no idea of the magnitude of this birthday. I have, however, raised her to understand how important birthdays are, in general, thanks to my own upbringing. My parents always made (and continue to make!) a huge fuss over me on my birthday, and I do the same for Jayda. My daughter knows that a birthday equals tons of attention—and is intended to be a perfect day filled with presents, fun activities, and cupcakes, of course (or, in a worse-case scenario, a sheet cake with tons of gooey icing).

When I was a child, on the night before my birthday, after I’d gone to bed, my parents would hang a string of balloons outside our house, from the front door to a tree several feet away, “announcing” my birthday to the whole neighborhood; they did this for my siblings—and for themselves, too—as it was (and still is!) a Levine-family tradition. Every year, when I woke up on the morning of my birthday, I’d look outside my window and see the balloons, and smile. It’s amazing how happy and hopeful those balloons could make a person feel—even a 40 year old.

For children, birthdays are often all about parties, presents, and treats—and who can blame them? Personally, I fondly remember going to ToysRUs with my mother and picking out all kinds of toys for myself as an annual birthday tradition. I also remember my deliciously messy make-your-own sundae parties, Carvel ice cream cakes, candy-filled piñatas, and staying-awake-all-night-long slumber parties with a houseful of giggling girl friends.

But as an adult, birthdays take on new meaning. Some people choose to ignore their birthdays; I like to embrace them. On one level, I think it’s important to acknowledge—and celebrate—having lived another year. And while it’s true this has been an unusually challenging year for me—full of plenty of ups and downs—I do still have so much to be grateful for—namely, my daughter, Jayda. It would have been heartbreaking for me to reach the age of 40 without having become a mother, and I’m so thankful I made the choices I made, and was able to have a child on my own, almost three years ago.

On a more selfish level, I simply love the idea of having one day (or one month?) out of the year that’s focused on celebrating me! Because let’s face it: I like the attention. I don’t need presents. I don’t need expensive dinners out. It’s not about money being spent on me…but really the thought that counts. I simply enjoy having people calling me, sending me cards, and wishing me “Happy Birthday!” Of course, this year, I did want a slightly bigger deal: I wanted my friends and family to “really” celebrate with me. Which is why I decided to have a party. Fortunately, my incredibly generous parents helped me organize it, and I had wonderful friends who were able to eat, drink, and be merry with me. It was a great way to kick off my birthday, which I hope will be filled with all the phone calls, emails, and attention I crave—from loved ones around the country, and the globe. I just want people to remember me—and to continue to celebrate with me—as I turn 40, and beyond. That’s all this birthday girl really needs. Because birthdays—like life—should be filled with loving friends and family, happiness, a little sugar, and a few nice surprises along the way.

Yearning for BFF Times -- by Robin

I am SO looking forward to the weekend.

My good friend, Debbie, who I don't get to see too often since we live a distance apart, is coming to stay with us for a night with her two kids. Though older than Seth, he loves playing with them. And, I am psyched for the time with Debbie.

One of the things that I miss a lot is quality time with close girlfriends (my BFFs...best female friends). Since becoming a mom and no longer working in the city, I don't have access to some as I used to. Debbie and I, back in our single days, both worked in Manhattan and would often socialize together after work or at the very least get in a healthy dose of exercise as we walked to the subway or bus together, enroute to our homes. She lived on Long Island, and I in Queens. And, we'd spend ample time on the weekends on the phone dishing about our week and making weekend plans.

Things are different now.

She lives in New Jersey, and I live on Long Island. For years, we always joked that when we each (hopefully) got married one day, we'd buy homes next to each other or at least nearby.

That didn't happen.

She met a guy from New Jersey, so they wound up settling there. And, I met a guy originally from Queens who was living in Great Neck, NY, so we wound up in Great Neck. We lived in a 1 bedroom apartment at first and when it came househunting, we didn't just look in Great Neck. We toured Rockland, Westchester, CT, other areas of LI and even NJ. I originally thought if we at least lived in NJ, even if not far out, I could get relatively close to Debbie....or at least there wouldn't be a bridge between us.

We wound up putting a bid on a house in Glen Rock, NJ that was accepted, but it led to my having a totally sleepless night. I woke up the next day and realized we had made a big mistake. I didn't want to move to New Jersey. I hated the George Washington Bridge. There's always major traffic on it, and I knew that if I were to ever drive to LI, NYC or Queens (where my dad lives), I would not be a happy camper. So, we revoked the offer, and the homeowner was totally understanding. I knew at that moment that Debbie and I would likely never become next door neighbors or even live in the same state.

Since I no longer work in the city, I've endeavored to make friends in the suburbs. And, since becoming a mom, I've made a constant effort to befriend other moms. But, being moms isn't enough to cement a true, meaningful friendship. You have to connect on a level beyond that. I do think it's possible, but it doesn't happen overnight, as my mom friend Jeri says.

There is something to be said for having history with a BFF. Debbie knew me back in my single days. She knew my mom (who has passed away). She understands what my upbringing was like. Where I grew up. What I used to wear. When I first permed my hair. What pushes my buttons, so to speak, etc, etc. And, she's not afraid to "tell it like it is" if I'm venting about something. She helps keep me "real" in that regard....kinda like a dose of tough love that you may not want to hear but you know you need to listen.

And, don't we all need at least one friend like that?! Someone who isn't afraid to say something even if it might not sit right with us. Someone who can ruffle your feathers, but you know they're coming from a truly sincere place of wanting only what's best for you. Someone you could call at 2AM, and they wouldn't hang up. Someone who will let you talk 'n talk and not expect anything in return. There's no hidden agenda. No walking on eggshells. No questioning if they like you or not....or if it's just about a play date for the kids....or for professional networking reasons. You genuinely connect on a kindred spirit level.

I'm grateful to have time (even though it will be fleeting this weekend) with Debbie. I'm glad we've managed to stay close all these years and to share the ups 'n downs of life. She's one of the most grounded women I know (her upbringing was a challenging one), and we always have a good time. It takes me back to the days when life seemed simpler. Uncertain...yes......since we were both single and wondered how things would turn out. Now that we have a sense of that at least for today, we can laugh as we look back on the things we used to worry about. They have since been replaced by an entirely different set of concerns.

Life is an ever-evolving journey, and the more we get to share it, the better.

Baby Steps -- by Robin

In case you are yearning for a basement update......we finally had our plumbing inspection done today. Unreal....it took nearly a month to get the guy here. Next up is the town inspection, and then we're good to go....with some minor items yet to be done by the contractor. Everything will be moved back downstairs, and life will resume.

That said, I'm now in the throes of attempting to organize.

I feel like we've moved. Not only do we have to get things in order upstairs since so much was moved up to the main floor for safe-keeping, but we (I) then have to decide what goes where in the basement.

We went to Target this weekend and bought a ton of plastic bins...varying sizes...to store Seth's toys. I am spending this week pouring through the bins of toys we have in the living...and then his bedroom....to create a place for each of them. Of course, in the mix, I'm finding tons of little and big pieces with no obvious home.

I'm not great at just throwing out stuff. It's something I'm working on...not just for Seth, but myself. I can't live well in a state of clutter. I don't know how anyone can. But, it's also not easy to take the bull by the horns and devote the time that is needed to create a sytem in your home. Ultimately you'll be all the better for it, but it's a painstaking process.

And, Marc (my husband) isn't overly up for the task. And, Seth can only do so much. So, it's on my shoulders. And, I must admit, I have moments where I feel resentful. This is not fun. But, then I remind myself that lots of life's projects require major time and effort and are not always a joy, depending on the stage you're in.

In a perfect world, we'd all have the opportunity to focus on our passions, but we do have responsibilities. And, since I've become a mom, I'm all the more conscious of that.

I feel like there is so much that I take care of. My husband has his share too. But, since I'm the one working from home, I'm constantly bouncng back 'n forth from activity to activity.

I was part of a "prayer" call this week that a friend of mine arranged. She was in need of the empowering energy of a group to help her attract more money into her life. Who wouldn't want that?! But, she truly is in need.

So, I participated. Not being sure what this would entail. While the focus was on my friend, it's interesting how you can take away even when you're not the center of attention. We each had a chance to introduce ourselves and then share ideas and thoughts for my friend. Then, the facilitator shared her sentiments, and it hit home for me.

In the midst of all the tasks of life that we have on our plates, as women, we are often hard on ourselves. She emphasized the need to be self forgiving. To cut ourselves some slack as we endeavor to be all things to all people.

And, one of the gals added the importance of making time for self and having fun or just chilling.

I know I can be hard on myself, and it's something I need to work on. And, I could use more belly laughs for sure. And reflexology massages.

While a big part of me wishes I could just snap my fingers and have my house (and basement) in tip top shape, if I focus on what is realistic for me to accomplish today and each day, little by little, step by step, things will get done.

It might feel like baby steps. But, I remember when my son took his first baby steps, and now, in the blink of a eye, as the years have quickly passed, he's itching to play football.

PS -- Check out the MotherhoodLater.com October featured later mom, Marissa Janet Winokur, actress/singer/Luv's spokesperson. A cancer survivor, she and her husband used a surrogate, and she shares her story with us.

PPS -- Thanks to http://awholevillage.com/ for the October giveaway on MotherhoodLater.com. They produce lovely one-of-a-kind custom keepsake books that feature your personal wisdom.

Won't You Be My Baby? by Jamie Levine

Although I’m almost 40 years old, I will always be my mother’s “baby.” So, of course, I often look at my 28-month-old toddler, and still think of her as the helpless little infant she once was. But, as Jayda constantly reminds me, herself—when she pees in the potty or swings from monkey bars—“Jayda, big girl now!” In fact, she’s so ”grown up” that when she sees a smaller child in a stroller (a vehicle she, herself, shunned long before the age of two), she calls him or her “a baby”—even if she’s only mere months older. And the smaller the child, the more enamored she becomes, and the more she wants to help take care of the “baby.”

I know all the babies at Jayda’s day care by name—from the infants to the 18-month-olds—because Jayda insists on visiting them all in the morning before she goes to her classroom, and, again, in the afternoon, before we go home. When we visit my friend who has a daughter Jayda’s age, as well as an almost-one-year-old, Jayda generally shows more interest in the baby than in her contemporary. And, when we go to the playground, Jayda always stops her climbing and jumping and swinging as soon as she sees a stroller glide by. She’ll run over and peer inside, and refuse to do anything else but stand and watch the baby.

At home, it’s the same story; Jayda has an arsenal of toy babies whom she dotes on, night and day. There’s “little baby,” her very first doll, which I let her pick out from a shelf full of options at a toy store (and who happens to be African American), and “big baby,” a giggling, bottle-sucking doll that was a birthday present from a friend. There are also countless other dolls and stuffed animals whom she calls her babies, all of whom get fed and cuddled and dressed by Jayda with care.

Both friends, as well as strangers who have observed Jayda’s behavior, have joked that I “need to give Jayda a baby sister or brother.” And, I do believe Jayda would be a wonderful big sis. But I don’t have the desire—or the resources—to have another child. Being Jayda’s mom is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life…but I don’t feel the urge to do it again. No other child could be a more perfect match for me than Jayda. But, as someone who grew up with siblings, I sometimes wonder if Jayda is missing out on anything by being an only child. And when I ponder this, I try to find comfort in something a wise friend once told me: Just because a child has a sibling doesn’t mean he or she will be close to that sibling. I have two siblings…a sister whom I adore and a brother whom I dislike. Sure, I love my brother because he’s my family, but has having him as a sibling enhanced my life? Definitely not. Would I be ok without him? Absolutely. So, there are no guarantees that giving Jayda a baby brother or sister would also mean providing her with a lifelong friend.

Lifelong friends aren’t born…they’re made. And so, I try to surround Jayda with people who love her…people whom she can count on when she needs help and support. People who will do all the things for her a good sibling can do. And, of course, I also try to befriend people who have babies of their own: babies we can visit—but whom I don’t have to take care of, too.

Mommy Cliques

I was speaking with a mom friend the other day who commented on how she felt like she was back in high school, and I fully understood. Here we are, two "later" moms in our 40s, feeling like we're 16 again, wanting to be liked. Holding on to old/existing/close friendships, yet yearning to connect with other moms in our local area for playdates, lunch, etc.

We've got many years experience on the work and personal front behind us, yet now we feel like we're backpedaling in the mom friendship department.

What is that about? Has that happened to you?

Case in point....

I was at McDonald's earlier this week with Seth. We are far from regulars there, but he was craving a Happy Meal toy and loves playing in their climbing maze.

We went there for lunch, and after eating, I parked myself on a bench in the outdoor area while Seth befriended some other children and ran around, having a great time. I had brought with me a supply of magazines and my Blackberry, so I could stay plugged in to emails (yes...I'm obsessed) and catch up on some reading.

Two moms entered the play area, one of whom I knew from the neighborhood. Our children had both gone to the same nursery school, and we've had some casual encounters since at local parks. She said "hi" and proceeded to look around for a place to sit with her friend, when there were two seats on the bench beside me. For the moment, it felt as if she ideally wanted to sit somewhere else, but since other seats weren't available, she opted to join me. She was polite enough and introduced me to her friend, but my instinct told me she wasn't looking for my company. I tried not to take it personally. Afterall, it wasn't our playdate. But, it made me very conscious of the notion of mom cliques, and how great it is to have a local, fellow mom buddy to pal around with and without the kids.

Another pair of moms came into the McDonald's play area with their kids, and after they were done, one said to the other, "I'll speak with you tomorrow."

I have to admit...I felt a pang of jealousy. While I don't want for friends, and have some close ones I treasure, many don't live near me, some are single, others work so aren't readily available, etc.

It takes a lot to be in sync with someone, and making new friends is never the easiest. Especially if you are seeking relationships with some level of depth, which I've always appreciated.

I just never expected to be thinking about this at this stage in my life.

Some of the moms I've met, I've noticed, who already have a mom social circle, have children older than Seth, so they've already had the opportunity to meet through school and other outlets. And, they may also have a close family, which makes a difference too.

My friend Debbie whose two kids are older than Seth tells me that it will get easier over time, as Seth chooses his own friends. And, perhaps I can get involved with the PTA. I'm certainly open to that option.

This is not to say that I haven't met any moms whose company I enjoy. I have. And certainly, starting MotherhoodLater.com has helped. But, it takes time to cement real friendships. I would welcome more of that into my life....for both Seth and me.

One Great Child

I was at the pool over the holiday weekend, and someone from my community, who I don't know, spotted Seth in the pool and asked if he was my only one?

I found myself feeling defensive. Not just for myself as a mom, but protective in a sense for Seth. I quickly and thoughtfully responded, "Why do people say only one? As if he's not enough. I prefer to think of it as I am the mom to 'one great child.'"

I asked if he had any children. He took a moment, and interestingly responded, "I have one great child."

I laughed. He smiled.

It got me thinking. Why is it that one of the most common questions from complete strangers is, is he your only one? And, it often feels like it's said with a grain of sadness, as if the child is deprived.

Where did the phrase Only Child come from to begin with?

In my circle of "later mom" friends, there are many with one child. And, we don't think of ourselves or our children as lacking. I am grateful for my one son.

I know there are many discussions re: the pros and cons of being an only child. And, there are those of the school of thought that a child should have a sibling to grow up and old with. Especially so if they are conscious of their own mortality as a later mom. But, in my book, there is no guarantee siblings will be close, and I don't feel any more pressure as a later mom. It's not just blood that cements a relationship through the years.

I have many friends, for whatever reason, who are only children, and none are sad. They are cool, accomplished women, with a strong circle of friends who they cherish, perhaps even more so because they don't have a sibling. Most are close to extended family members as well. Each has successfully made their way in the world, despite having grown up as an only child.

It is a very personal decision to have children to begin with. And, on top of it, how many you would like to raise is another oh so personal question.

Newsweek recently ran a thought-provoking article entitled "Who Says Kids Make You Happy?" by Lorraine Ali. It's worth a read.

Some couples or individuals choose to live a child-free existance altogether. Does that make them selfish? Some might say. But, who is to say?

So, whether you choose to parent one child or more or none at all, there is more than one way to live a fulfilled life.

I have no doubt my son will grow into a happy adult who will find his personal path. And, despite being raised with no siblings, he will not want. He knows he is loved, and that is the most important thing a "later" or any parent can provide.