Secret Parenting Thoughts by Robin Gorman Newman

This past weekend, Seth and I had tickets to see GAZILLION BUBBLE SHOW in NYC for the second time (you can read my show review later today....we loved it!).  

We were supposed to go with another mom and her son, but the night before they cancelled (I had an instinctual feeling things might not work out with them).  He had a stomach bug.  She hoped that we'd quickly be able to find others to join us.  Marc was working (tax season), so this was to be a mommy and me outing.

My effort to reach out to other families wasn't productive.  Too short notice.  This happened when I was at the gym finishing my workout.  My trainer, who I am friendly with, overheard the phone conversations, and much to my surprise, said she'd like to go.

She is divorced, living happily with her long term boyfriend (who she left her husband for), and raised two daughters who are now both in their 20s.  One is married; the other divorced.  This friend is a few years older than me and takes a strong "been there, done that" attitude when it comes to parenting at this stage of the game.  She has said more than once, when I've shared challenges re: Seth, that she forewarned me when we made the decision to become parents that it wasn't going to be easy.  And, she in fact, thought I was kinda "nutz" to embark on motherhood at age 42.  She was glad not to be in my new parenting shoes.

She was a young mother when her kids were young, and she left a teaching career that she had barely established, so didn't much miss.  She speaks often about being a "hot young mama" who chauffered her kids around, in between gym workouts -- a top priority in her life.  (No wonder at age 50+, her body is hard as a rock.)  She has also often discussed how, in her opinion, kids suck the life out of you and even into adulthood, they can still be challenging, and not necessarily grateful for what you have done and continue to do for them. 

None of this is the most pleasant to hear, but I've gotten used to it.  I recognize it as "her story," and hope that mine and Seth's will play out differently as the years go by.

When I bring Seth to the gym (granted he's young to be in a weight-lifting facility), she is never thrilled when he whips out mats to play and moves free weights around, though ultimately I make sure he puts everything back in place.  He acts safely and respects the equipment and knows his limits, or I certainly wouldn't take him.  But, she has often said that she doesn't know how I do it?  That he's "go, go, go", asks a million questions...and gives her a headache when he bounces the large rubber stomach crunch ball too many times.

So, when the show tickets became available, and she invited herself along, I was taken aback.  She had to know that meant spending the afternoon with Seth (and of course me too).  She assured us she wanted to come.

When I saw her at the gym two days later for my Monday session, she couldn't wait to talk about the fun we had and admitted that Seth demonstrated good behavior, and she didn't expect it.  He didn't demand that I buy him a souvenir.  He didn't have any kind of meltdown.  He sat in his seat, both on the train and in the theatre, and enjoyed both experiences.  When Marc (my husband) picked us up after the show and we had all planned to eat out in the city (things changed because we couldn't get a parking spot...way too much snow), she noted how Seth just rolled with the punches.

I told her with pride that "Seth is good company."  Sure, he's 7 and has his moments like any child,  but he's a nice, smart, compassionate, social kid (if I don't say so myself.).  She then said almost giddily that anytime Marc and I need a break or have plans, we are welcome to leave Seth with her and her boyfriend (who we know and like).

Not that we're rushing to do this.  We have our reliable babysitters (who we pay).  But, it was interesting to see her newfound enthusiasm toward Seth. She saw that even at a later parenting stage, kids, while work, can bring joy. And, despite the fact that she never raised a boy and was thrilled to have had girls, boys can be amusing in a different way. 

So, just as Laura (one of the motherhoodlater.com bloggers) wrote on Tuesday about the judgement that as parents we sometimes have for others parents, this experience taught me that it's also easy to judge other kids.  If they are different than ours, whether by sex, interest, temperament.....etc.....we might sit back and secretly be grateful that we're not parenting them (if they seem difficult).  Or perhaps even the opposite is true.  Maybe they seem more agreeable or fun than our own child, and you wish yours was more like them.

The point is that we're all individuals in this world.  We march to our own drum.  And, there are countless beats we might follow.  No one has a crystal ball to predict how their kids will turn out as adults.  But, if we lay positive groundwork now, including surrounding them with people who embrace them, they'll be all the better for it.  And, we can only hope that people, like my personal trainer friend, will not reach negative conclusions prematurely about our kids.  It's ultimately a loss for everyone.

Y Community? -- By Laura Houston

When I moved to New York City from a small farm in Oregon, I naturally felt out of place. It was a tough adjustment being a new mom in a strange, crowded, loud city without my network of friends around me – friends who would come over in an instant if I needed help or a break. As I elbowed my way into a new social network in Manhattan, many neighbors, mothers, and friends suggested joining a family gym. But as a rule, I hate gyms. My workouts in the Northwest centered on gardening, hiking, kayaking, and running. I like the outdoors. I like all kinds of weather. I like hard work. In Oregon, I easily found communities of people who felt the same way and enjoyed the same things, and I bonded with people naturally out of mutual interest.

I am the sort of person who makes friends easily under most circumstances, and thanks to groups like Motherhood Later Than Sooner and Upper West Side Moms, I’ve met some great women. We gather on playgrounds. We have coffee after playschool. We share sitters, housekeepers, doctors, and lawyers. But regardless of our network of resources and information, a group of mothers is not always enough to call a community. After all, as mothers of young children we are pretty frazzled. We can’t often reach out and offer support to one another because we are barely making it ourselves. It’s hard to create a kinship of reliable support just due to the logistics of the city alone.

So how does one go about creating a community for the family? Churches, mosques, temples and synagogues are a good start, but if you don’t practice those religions, you’re out of luck. Plus, I want a more diverse community. I like to meet and get to know all kinds of people going through all kinds of situations. But they have to have some things in common: they want to be healthy, they have interests, and they want to form relationships with other people.

That’s difficult to do on a small island where there are more than 71,000 people per square mile. It’s ironic with all these people crowded together that so many mothers admit to feeling lonely and isolated. And mothers have a particularly hard time in New York – especially if they are stay-at-home moms who are raising the kids themselves – sans full-time nannies.

Last week I met a woman named La-Vena Francis. She was a single, teen-age mother living in Brooklyn, and she was determined to do the right thing for her child while trying to find community for herself. When her son was six-years old, he began showing signs of childhood obesity, and she could not to let that happen. She knew her son loved the water, and she knew she wanted him to be safe, so she joined the YMCA and signed him up for swim lessons.

“That’s how I became connected,” La-Vena told me, “I became connected with the community the Y had to offer, with my son, and with myself because I started taking classes, too.”

Two birds. One stone.

When La-Vena first moved to this country as a little girl, she did not live in a safe neighborhood. There weren’t many places she could play without fear. She said the Flatbush YMCA was a refuge, so that’s where she went after school to take gymnastics. Then, as a teenage mom, she returned with her son, introducing him to health and wellness, to male mentors, and to a community that would help her help him.

Twelve years later La-Vena’s son is 18-years old, attends college, and teaches swimming lessons at a YMCA. And La-Vena now works at the North Brooklyn YMCA as a director. She also met her husband there, and now her two youngest kids attend for daycare, classes, and fun.

There are many stories I’ve heard from mothers, especially single mothers, about the kinship, the solace, and the support they discovered at their local gym. The YMCA organization itself is an anthology of hope, help and health from members of its community. It offers more than just fitness classes, and it has free babysitting in their child watch program, so mothers can workout, get a break from the kids, and perhaps have a conversation with an adult that lasts more than four sentences.

As hard as I have tried in New York to create my own community, I might have to borrow someone’s for a while and see if I can fit in. I believe I need to take some pottery classes, some yoga classes, and maybe get over my distaste for public swimming pools, and gym locker rooms while I’m at it. My life has changed not only as a mother who is living in a new city, but now I find I am becoming a different kind of person who has to find new interests in a city where I can’t plant a garden, and in a life where there is little time for solace. I’m also no longer as fit as I used to be. There are times when I can’t seem to keep up. So it’s time to buck up and join up. And see where this inspired community leads me.

Why I Run -- by Liimu

I have been obsessed with dieting and changing my body for as long as I can remember. My mom was a dieter my whole life, even my 94 year old grandmother confessed to me while in the nursing home that she still replaced two of her daily meals with SlimFast and weighed herself daily.

When I had my children (all girls), I realized that I was going to have do something to counteract this way of thinking so that I wouldn’t pass on this lack of self-acceptance on to them. Every year since I turned 30, I had run the Susan Komen Race for the Cure, a 5K run that benefits research for a cure for breast cancer, a disease from which my mother has been surviving for nearly 30 years.

About a year after my second daughter’s first birthday, I decided that a better motivation for going to the gym than to lose weight would be to train for a longer race. I set a goal of running a 10K by the end of that year. That April, I ran the 10K and I met a woman named Amy who would change my life. Amy and I began to get to know each other as we ran that 6 miles, and what we learned was that we both thought of ourselves as the last to get picked for the teams in gym class, and yet here we both were, completing an athletic event that not many people we knew had ever accomplished. That fueled our fire and we were off. That year alone, Amy and I ran the 10-mile Broad Street run, the Philadelphia Distance Run (a half-marathon) and the Philadelphia Marathon. During our training, I started a new job, and Amy moved away to attend law school. We didn’t talk on the phone or via e-mail, we saved our best stories for when she would come back to Philly for us to complete our long training runs together or complete the races we had promised each other early on we’d support each other in finishing. When we ran Broad Street and I got a side stitch a half-mile into the run, Amy hissed, “Keep going…no one ever died from a cramp,” later confessing that she’d had no idea at the time she said this if it was actually true. When I was injured in August, Amy encouraged me to take the time I needed to heal, adding only half-jokingly that she couldn’t afford for me to start back too soon and injure myself so bad that I wouldn’t’ be ready to run the marathon with her in November. She was counting on me. And I was counting on her.

Amy and I are still friends, and she married the guy she started dating during that training season. We got to know a lot about each other during that period, but what I didn’t anticipate was what I would learn about myself. When I ran across the marathon finish line, I was no longer just a girl, no longer even just a mom, I was an athlete. I had crossed another line, the line that separated the runners from the non-runners. Without intending to, I had found a way to break the cycle of self-loathing and insecurity that had plagued the women (and some of the men) in my family for generations. I now look at my body for what it can do, rather than what it looks like (most of the time…all bets are off when my hormones are in the driver’s seat). And this Mother’s Day, the gift I look most forward to receiving will be having two new running partners as I cross that familiar finish line of the Susan Komen race, for my two daughters, Devon and Amelia, will be running it with me.

Making Our Relationship Work -- by Jamie

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

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

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

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

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

Healthy Habits -- and a Happy Kid -- by Jamie

I was not a very active kid. I preferred cookies to cartwheels, and reading to running. And it showed: I was a rather chubby child, who struggled with a weight problem throughout much of my youth. It wasn’t until my mid-20s that I truly discovered the joys of exercise; I joined a boxing gym, and, as I strived to succeed in the sport, found my endorphins flowing, and my energy increasing. After just a few weeks of boxing, I set off on a quest to become stronger and faster and added running and weight training to my routine. Ultimately, my body became leaner, my heart grew healthier, and I became a gym-rat.

I’m known at my current gym as “the woman who worked out until the day she gave birth”—and it’s true: I exercised about 6 times a week throughout my pregnancy, and would have been at the gym on the day I went into labor, but I had an early OB/GYN appointment that day that deterred me; I gave birth that evening.

Soon after my C-section, I was out walking again, with Jayda strapped to my body in a Baby Bjorn, and I returned to the gym less than a month later. Exercise and eating healthfully are important to me…and I want them to be important to my child. But, as I know from my own experiences, you can’t force exercise on a kid if you want it to become a habit for her; instead, she has to enjoy it.

Like her mom, Jayda has a passion for sweet things. For a long time, I could get away with giving her fresh fruit, Greek yogurt with honey, or homemade zucchini-carrot bread as a treat. But of course, as Jayda grew, her grandparents, daycare friends, and our shopping forays introduced her to cupcakes, ice cream, candy, and other not-so-healthy snacks. I still try to limit Jayda’s treats, and make healthy substitutions whenever I can. (For example, one of Jayda’s favorite places is the “ice cream store” where, unbeknownst to her, we both eat low fat frozen yogurt.) However, since I don’t want to create an eating-disordered daughter and deny her all the foods her contemporaries are eating, I’ve been simply focusing on getting Jayda to exercise more, instead.

When Jayda was about 18 months old, I signed her up for a gymnastics class—and a year later, we’re still attending once a week. She loves it at The Little Gym, and 45 minutes of climbing, swinging, and running around are never enough for her. Weather-permitting, I take her to the playground after daycare as often as I can, and while sometimes she just wants to swing, and sit and watch the other kids play, other days, Jayda is a real little monkey, climbing the jungle gym and racing around in circles. Regardless, the playground is a place she looks forward to going to, and that’s what’s important.

Because my little girl has been begging me to go to “dance school” for months now, I’ve signed her up for a class in January, and she can’t stop talking about it. If dancing brings her as much joy as I think it will, she’ll be twirling around incessantly once class begins. Add to that the yoga class that Jayda’s daycare starting offering a few weeks ago (and which Jayda loves—and constantly practices at home), and it looks like my daughter is turning into a pretty active child. More importantly, she’s enjoying her activities every step of the way.

Recently, I began taking Jayda to my gym with me on the weekends; it has a free daycare center and she adores the woman who watches her there. As soon as she wakes up on Saturday mornings, Jayda asks me, “When is mommy going to exercise?” and “Can I come, too?!” Having a toddler who begs to go to the gym must mean I’m doing something right!

What Me Weary? by Jamie

People who know me are used to my complaints about Jayda waking up at 5 a.m. every day. But the fact is, pre-Jayda—before she was even a glimmer of an idea in my head—I awoke willingly before 5 every morning to go to the gym. I religiously devoted at least 10 hours a week to working out—hard—and I also worked full-time, did some additional freelance work, ate ridiculously “clean” (keeping myself at less than 10% body fat year-round), and still managed to go out on dates several times a week. I also suffered from insomnia, and rarely got more than 5-6 hours of sleep a night.

Fast-forward to my present-life. I still get to the gym 5-6 times a week, still eat very healthfully 90% of the time (though I allow myself to consume more food these days, and thus, carry a more reasonable amount of body fat), I rarely drink (and when I do, it’s just a well-savored glass of wine), and I currently work from home. However, lately, several times a week when I put Jayda to bed between 7:30 and 8 p.m., and I lay down beside her to rub her back, I wind up passing out with her (and am shocked when I look at the clock and discover it’s after midnight and I have to force myself up to go brush my teeth)! I also find myself looking forward to bedtime…and have no problem sleeping through the night—and for as long as Jayda will allow me. I even crave naps on the weekends—though Jayda never lets me take them. In short, now that I’m a mom, I’m tired!

I passed a recent physical with flying colors. And more often than not, people tell me I don’t look my age. So why am I so exhausted? I have a friend who is constantly chasing her bolting toddler through stores and restaurants; I rarely have that problem since Jayda generally doesn’t race away from me, and she never wanders far. Jayda’s not an overly-active kid—just a “normal” one. She’s also a fairly even-tempered child. She certainly has her share of tantrums, but I’ve met plenty of kids who are much harder to manage. And while Jayda is a ceaselessly curious child—always asking me questions and probing me to produce creative answers—that shouldn’t physically exhaust me…or should it?

Maybe it just comes down to one thing: Taking care of someone else requires a whole lot more energy than simply taking care of yourself. And while I’ve always had stress in my life (who doesn’t?), and I’ve always found ways to manage it, knowing that you’re solely responsible for the one person whom you love more than anyone and anything in the world is a stress like no other. And it’s the kind of stress that never goes away. I guess I just need to accept that…and get as much rest as I can. And while I do still plan to be 40 and fabulous this February, maybe I’ll just have to make sure I do it before 8 p.m.

School Approaching - by Robin

Where does the time go?

School will be here before you know it, and it's first grade for Seth.

Everyone says it's much more demanding than kindergarten. That remains to be seen. I'm crossing my fingers the homework isn't daunting.

It's been so nice having him come home from camp and just being able to chill. Some of the biggest challenges were creating a funky hairstyle for him for Wacky Wednesday and picking clothes in black 'n red for checkerboard day.

The whole after school homework thing is such a challenge for everyone.

And, now we're giving thought to after school activities.

There is no after class program for first graders at the school. So, two days we have enrolled him in a dropoff program similar to day care. But, what about the other days? Should we consider Hebrew School? (He has no interest in that.)

Two other mom friends have broached the subject of martial arts.

Another mentioned tennis.

How much and what to do? And, all this taking into consideration the demands of school itself.

We're not rushing into signing him up for anything as yet, but I do feel like I'd like to have a potential gameplan in mind.

I don't want to be one of those overscheduling moms. Kids need ample time to chill. But, it's tempting to sign them up for programs that seem cool, especially if their friends are doing it. I don't buy into the whole "keeping up with the Jones parenting thing," but it is easy to be influenced.

So, as I call up karate places, kids gyms, synagogues, etc. , we'll see what jumps out at us and Seth. If he had his way, he'd be happy staying home and watching Sponge Bob for hours after doing homework.

Is This What 40 Something Is?

I've blogged about my fibroids. I've written about my erratic sleeping patterns, I think due in part to hormones. A couple of months ago, I hurt the rotator cuff on my right arm....I believe due to lifting Seth under that arm. And, it's still not 100 percent. I didn't even know what a rotator cuff is. Now I'm all too aware.

As if my health isn't enough of an open book, I'm going to share the latest. I just found out I have tiny gallstones. And, the gastro doc I saw right away said I should see a surgeon. I totally balked and immediately emailed my integrative doctor and starting researching on the web. He faxed to me a liver/gall bladder flush which patients have had success with when the stones are small. Mine are described as "tiny," so I'm hoping this does the trick. I'm only mildly symptomatic at this point.

I figured I just had to drink some olive oil and lemon juice as a friend suggested. But, no, this is much more involved, including the use of coffee, berries, heavy whipped creme, etc. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, this is not going to be a walk in the park. Thankfully I don't have to drink the coffee....but I'm dreading this whole procedure. And, how do you know if it works? The instructions said that if you feel nauseous during the night, that's a good thing. We want to achieve that result, it stated. Terrific! Another reason not to sleep.

I'll do it. I'm a trooper. And, this is WAY better than surgery, even laproscopic.

I had a chat with my trainer at the gym about this, who in addition to working my body, has become like a mom figure/therapist/friend. Sometimes we yak more about life stuff and the exercise lags behind, but it's always comforting since she is well read on health matters and loves to share.

This past week she confided in me that I should get used to this kind of stuff. That once you hit 40 (not that she or I want to depress you), according to her, your body changes and things happen, however minor. But, it takes adjustment, and ultimately acceptance...and letting go of control if we ever thought we had it. This isn't easy for me to swallow. I'd rather swallow tons of supplements, than this notion.

I'm hearing this from others too. A friend I recently had dinner with said she has a couple of herniated discs and is now seeing a chiropractor. Another gal I know in her 40s just had hip replacement. And, people are buying reading glasses, taking MSM pills for aches, etc.

Granted, luckily, none of this is serious in the scheme of things. But, as one mom said to me, it's amazing, because when she was younger, her biggest health concern was an occasional cold. And, now she's living in a body she doesn't fully recognize.

At a time when we need self care the most, it's so hard to get it when mothering requires major time and effort.

I guess going with the flow is the best attitude, and being grateful for our bodies, despite newfound developments.

Anyone else finding 40+ a time for bodily changes?