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.

40 Something Mom Memory

How is yours?

Your memory...that is.

This morning, I received a copy of an email newsletter I subscribe to, and they featured an article on this very subject. It came across my computer screen at a timely moment, as I prepare to go out of town and am hustling to remember/tackle all that I need to do before I leave.

I also find this a topic of discussion with other moms my age. Do you?

Since I turned 40, my memory is just not as sharp.

Thankfully I've always been detail-minded, but I find it's even more necessary now. And, there are times when I feel like I have to pick up the slack for others who struggle to keep track because they don't have a system.

For example, I was at the gym the other day and needed to change my workout appointment with my trainer. She asked if I could call her the day before to remind her of the time change. I thought....now not only do I have to write the new time in my calendar, but I have to include a note to myself to call her. That's double memory duty for me. Yet, I knew if I didn't do it, I couldn't count on her to remember. And, she makes no excuses for her lack of effort to remember. She just kids me about being so organized.

But, isn't that a good thing?!

How do people...especially multi-tasking "later" moms...function without some level of organization?

And, believe me, I'm far from perfect in this arena. One look at my home office with all its piles would tell you so. But, I make a point of carrying my datebook with me to record appointments on the spot. And, I have an on-going TO DO list that comes with me as well, so I can add items as they occur to me. And, I've been known to email a note to myself on my Blackberry when it's something I need to take care of workwise.

If I didn't do this, I wouldn't know whether I'm coming or going, personally or professionally.

And, we have a large calendar at home where I record appointments that relate to our family, i.e. upcoming kids parties, school holidays, theatre tickets, etc.

It works for us. Our household/lives needs some semblance of order, and I'm the designated keeper, like it or not. Someone's gotta do it.

Is it you in your home?

Do you find that you're more on top of things than other moms/people in general, or is it a challenge for you to keep track of all that life brings?

There certainly is a lot to handle, and it feels like more 'n more the older I get. Understandably, one can easily get overwhelmed with life's minutia. But, how can we even attempt to tackle it all with grace if we can't keep track of it?

Have you created a system for yourself and your family that works?

If so, please share your tips......

GUEST BLOG: A Grandmother's Perspective

THIS IS A SPECIAL GUEST BLOG BY A GRANDMOM, Rochelle Jewel Shapiro, author, "Miriam the Medium" (Simon & Schuster). Your comments to this blog are welcome, and may be posted below.

As hard as it is for a woman to admit she’s growing older, it seems even harder for a daughter to admit her mother is getting on in years. Last week, I took the train upstate to my daughter’s at a time of revolution. Her daughter, who had thought kindly of her baby brother when he was sedately swaddled, suddenly was faced with a sibling who crawled at top speed, knocking over her blocks, sticking her doll house figurines in his mouth. She now wanted to (and almost did) ring his neck. My daughter, holding her daughter back, called out “Get him, Mom,” as her son scooted under a computer table to yank the wires, as if I am still the young woman once again who could scoop up her ashy little brother from the fireplace. I did get him. I did everything that was needed and came home with vivid memories of snuggling my granddaughter, seeing my grandson’s gummy smile as I tickled his belly. But, although I didn’t tell my daughter, I also came home to Ace Bandages and heat packs and bed rest. My daughter loves me. She tells me so each time we talk. I can see it in the light in her eyes when she looks at me. If I bring up my physical limitations, it would be like bringing up the topic of my mortality. As grown up as she is, she’s still my child. So, even though I haven’t yet had the courage to broach this with my daughter, I want to share it with all of you. Perhaps I’m practicing for the next conversation I have with her.