Putting It Out There—by Jamie Levine

Back when I was in my early 30's, I had a good friend who was perpetually husband-hunting, and used to ask everyone whom she met to set her up. If she ever found herself chatting to a woman in the grocery store, and somehow the fact that my friend was single arose, she would shamelessly ask, "do you know any nice single Jewish guys?" I used to laugh at her antics, but she sure scored a lot of dates. And, ultimately, she snagged a nice Jewish husband, to whom she's still happily married (though she met him on her own—not through a set-up).

I’m blessed with a multitude of really good friends—both female and male—who know how badly I’d like to be a relationship again, but who rarely introduce me to dateable men. Not because they don’t love me, or think I’m a “catch,” but because they don’t know anyone great—and single—whom they think is my match. So, I’m on my own. Post-breakup with Library Guy, I attempted online dating, and found it pretty disappointing. I’ve also hit several bars—and met a few guys—but no one who’s left me smitten. I’ve flirted at the gym, as well as at the playground with Jayda, and come across a handful of appealing—but married—guys. And it’s been frustrating. Very. In my heart, I’ve always believed that a good man will fall into my lap, organically—at a soccer game with Jayda, while picking out produce in the supermarket, or in the children’s room of the library (been there, done that). But right now, I don’t feel like waiting for Mr. Right to come along. I want to do a lot of dating. I want to balance out mommy-hood and the stresses of graduate student life with some good, old-fashioned, grown-up fun.

Thus, I’ve started opening up my big mouth even more than usual. The other day, Jayda and I were invited to an old friend’s house for dinner, and soon after we arrived, my friend’s younger sister stopped by. I greeted her, and after asking about her kids and the status of her job, I blurted out, “do you know any nice, appealing single men?” She laughed, paused, and then said “let me think about that for awhile…I may!” Five minutes later, she told me she was having a birthday party for her husband the following night and said I should stop by. My friend asked her, “will there be any single men there?” and she responded, “maybe one or two…” As fate would have it, I couldn’t make it to the party—but it was nice to have the option.

Similarly, as I was lamenting about my singledom with a woman I know from the locker room at my gym (whose husband works at the front desk), she asked me what kind of man I was looking for. I told her: Someone athletic and fit, from 36-48 years-old (though I’m flexible on those numbers), preferably with a kid or two (and if not—someone who won’t expect me to have more with him), and someone who’s good with kids. Of course, like any woman, I want my mate to be affectionate, generous, kind, and have a good job—but I’m not wrapped up in trivial details like his height, religion, or whether or not he’s super-hot. I’m discerning—but not super-picky! Days later, she said she might have a guy for me—and that her husband was on the case, too. In the midst of our conversation, another woman walked by and smiled at my friend’s remark, so I caught her eye and said “hey—if you know anyone great who is single, please keep me in mind.” The woman smiled again—possibly because she thought I was crazy—but hey, you never know.

I’m pretty self-sufficient—stubborn, too—so I generally take care of myself, and all of my needs, on my own. And I must admit that most of the men I’ve dated in the past have been men I’ve met without anyone's help. But desperate times require desperate measures, and I’m finally learning that it doesn’t hurt to ask for some help when you need it. So…blog-readers…do you know any wonderful single men with whom you can set me up? Who knows what might happen! At the very least, it could make for an interesting blog…

Feel free to contact me at JMLNY@aol.com

JAMIE’S SHOW REVIEW AND TICKET GIVEAWAY: The Ohmies

As a conscientious mother, I’m constantly focused on raising a happy, healthy child, and this past weekend, my daughter, Jayda, and I experienced an amazing musical theater production that supports parents like me in doing just that. Billed as a “one-of-a-kind interactive musical experience for kids ages 3 to 8,” The Ohmies is a lively musical adventure that encourages preschoolers to develop positive skills for good health and well-being.

The show features Bella Butterfly and her little brother, Carlin Caterpillar, two, spirited, colorful characters who take the audience on an engaging learning adventure. When Bella leads her brother—and the audience—in planting a “wish garden,” whereby they plant wish seeds so their wishes can come true, she realizes that Mr. Sun is not yet awake (to warm the earth and help the seeds grow), and sets off to Sweeping Bluff to wake him up. Along the way, she and her brother meet a cast of compelling characters, who all help them get where they need to go—and to achieve their goal.

Children in the audience sit on a large mat in front of the stage, and, wearing only socks on their feet, follow along as Bella teaches everyone to fly like a butterfly—after which Gisbert Grasshopper shows them how to hop far and wide, Sylvio Snake teaches them to slither like a snake, and more—by stretching and jumping, and employing yoga fundamentals like downward dog and butterfly. I was thrilled to watch Jayda laughing and leaping along—and getting a nice little workout while having fun—throughout the entire show.

Along with offering appealing music and infectious interactive fun, The Ohmies also present a bunch of valuable messages to preschoolers: The importance of making friends and working together to achieve signficant goals, as well as getting along with siblings, learning to make healthy choices, and overcoming fears and anxieties. When The Ohmies are distressed, a bunch of dark clouds—The Worries—appear in the sky, but the characters all sing, dance, and laugh them off, and soon realize they can “shake off the worries” to make them go away. I loved this message—and Jayda loved how it was presented.

As Bella tells her friends time and time again, “Besties always help each other,” and the BFFs in this show do more than that—they help preschoolers learn a lot about themselves and the world around them, while having a fantastic time singing, dancing, and enjoying the show.

For more information visit: http://www.theohmies.com/

The Ohmies are performing at:
The Peter Jay Sharp Theater, 416 W. 42nd Street, New York, NY 10036
June 16 - September 25, 2011
SHOW TIMES: Thursday: 11AM, Saturday: 10AM, 12PM and 3PM, Sunday: 12PM and 3PM
TICKETS: $35
RUNNING TIME: 45 minutes

TO ORDER TICKETS: Online: Visit ticketcentral.com and use code: OHM02 or go to: http://https//www.ticketcentral.com/Online/default.asp?doWork::WScontent::loadArticle=Load&BOparam::WScontent::loadArticle::article_id=D280A9AE-A505-4D3C-AD2E-6092A9E4648C&BOparam::WScontent::loadArticle::promocode_access_code=OHM02
or Phone: (212) 279-4200 Use code: OHMO2
In Person: Print out this offer and bring to the Box Office at the theater 416 West 42nd St.
(Box office opens one hour prior)

WIN FREE TICKETS -- MOTHERHOODLATER OFFER!!! Win four (4) tickets to this amazing show! Drop an email by 8/7 to robin@motherhoodlater.com, and let us know why you'd like to see the show with your family. Put OHMIES in the Subject line. Winner will be notified via email.

JAMIE LEVINE’S SHOW REVIEW: The Berenstain Bears LIVE! in Family Matters, the Musical

When it comes to promoting family values in an easy, accessible way, most moms know that the Berenstain Bears are ideal messengers for their children. This well-loved family of bears, featuring Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Sister Bear, and Brother Bear, began starring in their own line of books in 1974, and have been a universal hit with kids and parents ever since. Last weekend, Jayda and I and were able to watch these wonderful bears live, in action, in a delightful off-Broadway show, and now my daughter—as well as myself—are bigger fans than ever.

Based on three beloved books in Stan and Jan Berenstain's classic children's series, The Berenstain Bears Learn about Strangers, The Berenstain Bears’ Trouble at School, and The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food, and approved by the authors themselves, The Berenstain Bears LIVE! is at once entertaining and educational, and kept my four-year-old and her five-year-old friend riveted for the duration of the well-paced 55-minute show. Filled with lively songs and non-stop action, the show seamlessly combines three significant storylines: The Bear family’s unhealthy obsession with junk food, Brother Bear’s lack of focus at school, and Sister Bear’s imprudent desire to talk to strangers. And as each of the Bears grapples with issues that are relevant to our kids, sensible, loving Mama Bear gracefully sets things right in a way that’s appealing—and not too preachy—for children.

Seeing this show less than one month after Jayda’s four-year check-up at the pediatrician, when I was advised that Jayda should slow down her weight gain, I especially enjoyed the show’s promotion of healthy eating. Lately, Jayda and I have been talking about how she needs to eat healthier, and after the show, she told me that the part about getting rid of junk food and exercising more was her favorite. In this segment, Papa Bear’s unhealthy obsession with Sugar Balls, Choco-Chums, and Sweetsie-Cola has caused him to put on too much weight, and Mama Bear sings a song called “Fluff on Your Tummy,” and encourages her family to get into shape. She rids the house of junk food and replaces it with healthy snacks, and even gets her family to compete in a three-mile race. Jayda knows I like to run—and she does, too—and we both found this concept inspiring.

After the show, the cast was available for pictures and autographs, and best of all (according to Jayda and her friend), two of the bears painted bear-noses on all of the kids. Thus, my little Jayda Bear walked out of the show with a beary happy smile on her face—and a perfect recollection of three timely lessons: Work hard in school, use caution around strangers, and eat healthy foods.

Performance Schedule: Saturdays and Sundays at 2 PM
(Beginning July 23, a 4:30 PM show will be added)
MMAC is located at 248 West 60 Street, NYC
Tickets are $29.95, $49.95, and $59.95
And can be purchased at http://www.berenstainbearslive.com/ or by phone at (866) 811-4111
Running Time is 55 minutes
For video, photos, and more information please visit http://www.berenstainbearslive.com/

Playing House - by Jamie

When I was a child, I fondly remember playing “house” with a good girl friend of mine. She always took on the role of the mommy, and I was the little girl. I don’t recall what situations we acted out while pretending to be a family, but I do know that this was one of our favorite games to play. Sometimes, another little girl in the neighborhood with whom we occasionally played—but didn’t completely adore—would show up uninvited during our role-playing, and we grudgingly included her. While my friend and I happily continued our game in my bedroom, our not-so-bright neighbor sat out in the hallway with a pile of crayons and coloring books that we’d supplied her with to occupy her time. When anyone else in my house questioned us about why this girl was sitting out in the hallway while we were playing, we responded matter-of-factly, “She’s the daddy—she’s at work!”

Decades later, my own daughter, Jayda, is obsessed with “being the mommy,” while she forces other adults—mostly me, but sometimes my father or mother—into playing the role of the baby. Sometimes this is a pleasure, like when she has me, as her baby, take a nap while she rubs my back, or when she insists I have to “rest” while she reads a book to me. But the pleasure is short-lived because she generally also wants to stuff a binky in my mouth, or have me “’tend” to suck on her doll’s bottle. And when I complain, she eggs me on with instructions to “cry, baby, cry!” She also demands that I cry when she’s leaving me, and enjoys it when I beg her to stay with me and cuddle.

When I’m not playing baby on the couch or in bed, Jayda likes to take me shopping with her; this entails holding my hand while she totes several pocketbooks and bags filled with her toys all around the house and barks out a list of things we need to buy. On other occasions, I’m forced to walk with her to another room, where she leaves me “at school” while she “goes to work.” When I complain about going to school, she assures me that my teachers are nice and that I’ll have fun with my friends. It all sounds very familiar.

I’ve always found it remarkable how much information my child retains, and how careful I have to be about the things I say and do in front of Jayda, or the promises that I make to her, because she remembers everything. And when Jayda pretends to be a mommy, I see her keen skills of observation at play more clearly than ever. Most everything she knows about being a mommy, she’s learned from me. And for what it’s worth, she’s a very loving, affectionate, comforting mommy when I test her and complain or cry. But she’s also a busy mommy, and a reminder to me that sometimes I need to slow down.

For instance, the other day, while Jayda was in her “mommy-mode,” and laden with bags strewn over each of her arms, I told her it was time for dinner. She responded, “Not yet. I’m going somewhere!” When I queried “where?” she spewed out a laundry list of destinations that sounded very similar to my own day’s activities: “I have to go to CVS and the fruit store and the store where I get protein bars, and then I have to get gas, go to the bank, and go to the gym.” When I laughed and said “Is that all?”, she quickly added “I also have to meet my friend at the playground.” Well, thankfully, at least this little mommy is letting herself have some fun!

The Back-Up Plan - by Jamie

Lately, the subject of single mothers by choice has been all over the media because of a movie that recently came out, starring Jennifer Lopez, in which her character becomes pregnant with the help of an anonymous sperm donor, only to fall in love with Mr. Right immediately afterwards. I haven’t seen the movie, and, as a “real” single mother by choice, I’ll never have the time to see it, but I have viewed some of the recent TV news stories and discussions about it. And while it’s nice to have a celebrity like J-Lo showing single women that they do have options, I can’t say this movie is anything like my life—nor is “back-up plan” an appropriate term for the process by which I came to have Jayda.

I never pictured myself as a single mom; but then again, I didn’t always picture myself as a mom, period. Unlike some of my friends who were always talking about having babies during their 20s and 30s, I said things like, “I’ll have kids if I marry a guy who I know will be a great dad, and who really wants to have kids,” but I wasn’t obsessed with being a mother at all. I wasn’t even comfortable around children, and didn’t think they liked me very much. In fact, before I had Jayda, I’d never changed a diaper, and could count on the fingers of one hand how many babies I’d actually held. And yet, as soon as the nurses put my newborn child on my chest, I knew I was put in this world to be Jayda’s mom and care for her.

There was a point in my mid-30s when I had an epiphany and realized that I’d be incomplete if I never had a child, and that I’d just been suppressing my desires for fear of never meeting Mr. Right. I was flooded with maternal feelings and became baby-obsessed almost overnight. It took a lot of thought and planning to have Jayda (as well as plenty of drugs and monitoring and money, since I didn’t get pregnant on the first try like J-Lo’s character did in her movie), and I can hardly allude to the process as a back-up plan. “Back-up” to me implies second-best, and having Jayda was an ideal plan for me, because I can’t imagine my life without my amazing daughter in it. Unlike J-Lo’s character, I didn’t find Mr. Right while I was pregnant (though I did date during the first two trimesters), and I still haven’t found him now that Jayda is about to turn three. But that doesn’t trouble me at all, and I hate the implication that a woman “needs” a man to be a good mother. Or that having a husband is always the ideal “plan.”

Most of my friends did find their Mr. Rights before they had children—or at least they found someone whom they thought was the man they’d be with forever—and I can’t say their lives are all better than mine. A few of my friends are going through nasty divorces now—and are battling over custody issues. Several others actually married someone as their “back-up plan”—fully knowing the man wasn’t exactly what they wanted or needed in their lives—but rushed to settle down because they felt their clocks were ticking. Those friends (and their spouses) are all pretty miserable. And then there are my friends who are happily married (or at least appear to be), but just about all of them admit that having a husband is a lot of work, and they’re forced to divide their attention between their children and their man. There’s nothing wrong with that—and I know having a good husband is a worthwhile investment—but I can’t say that these women’s children are thriving more than mine is…or that the moms are so much happier than I am. We’re all just experiencing life the way it happened to us…and most of us are realizing that you can’t plan everything, especially when it comes to being a mom. Plan A…Plan B. What’s the difference? Life is what we make of it—and just because our lives aren’t as we always pictured them, doesn’t mean they’re second-best. Mine certainly isn’t. It isn’t movie-perfect, either, but I don’t really know anyone whose life is.

Don't Leave Me This Way - by Jamie

My daughter, Jayda, has been a day care kid ever since she was three-and-a-half months old. She loves school, and some days I even have a difficult time getting her to leave the center after eight hours to come home with me. She also takes a dance class whereby I drop her off and watch her prance around through the glass; generally, Jayda’s so immersed in the activity and the other kids in her class that she rarely acknowledges me with more than a wave when she’s changing from her tap to her ballet shoes. And she recently started taking swimming lessons; the moment Jayda is greeted by her teacher, she never looks back.

But lately, when we’re together in the house, Jayda won’t stop clinging to me. I can’t eat a meal or read a magazine without her demanding, “I want to sit on your lap, Mommy!” And she doesn’t want to let me out of her sight for even a moment. The other morning, while Jayda was watching a “Max and Ruby” DVD and I was making breakfast in the kitchen, I announced that I needed to run to the bathroom for a second. “Are you coming back?” Jayda responded fearfully. Huh? I couldn’t even joke with her about the unlikelihood of falling in and drowning, but simply remarked, “Of course!” Another morning, we came downstairs to the den and Jayda instantly begged, “Mommy! Don’t leave me!” I explained that I would never “leave her.” I might go to the bathroom or the kitchen while she was busy playing, but I’d never be far away. And that same morning, when I told her that I needed to run back upstairs to grab something for school, she insisted on coming with me…grasping onto my hand the entire time.

Jayda’s separation anxiety continued the other night, when I had plans to go out for drinks with a girlfriend—which is something I’ve certainly done in the past. My parents agreed to take Jayda to the diner for dinner that evening—and to put her to bed. Jayda was excited about going to “the pancake store” with Grandma and Poppy…until she discovered I wasn’t coming along. And when she found out I wouldn’t be home when she returned from the diner, the waterworks started: “You’ll come back though…right?” she wailed. “Of course I’m coming back,” I explained, as I seem to do all the time now. “I love you too much to ever leave you. And while I may have places I need to go to now and then, I’ll always come back to you,” I assured her. For the moment, Jayda was placated…but not enough to let her fall asleep until I came home; though she burrowed under the covers in her bed to placate my parents, she insisted on waiting up for me. Only when her sleepy eyes confirmed that I had, indeed, returned to her, did she let herself drift off, completely.

I’ve never “abandoned” my daughter; I’ve never even been separated from her overnight. And whenever I have to leave Jayda to do something (even to simply enter another room in the house), I always forewarn her about it. So I can’t figure out where this behavior is coming from. It’s true that sometimes my daughter’s devotion is heartwarming, like when she throws herself on me when I’m lying in bed, and wraps her whole body around me so I can’t go anywhere…literally. Or when she holds onto my hand and murmurs, “I love you sooooooooo much” as she’s falling to sleep. However, other times, Jayda’s dramatic attachment to me is worrisome, and I’d like for it to lessen. But I suppose nothing is as worrisome as the future, when my then-adolescent daughter will likely be telling me “Go away, Mommy!” or “Leave me alone!” As the mother of an emotional young girl, there always something to worry about, isn’t there?

Some Friendly Advice -- by Jamie

I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a busy single mother who doesn’t have time to waste—or simply the result of being older and wiser—but ever since Jayda was born, I’ve been more selective about which friendships I choose to foster. I consider myself very fortunate to have so many wonderful friends from every stage of my life—high school, college, my “single in the city” days, former jobs, and even my few years of motherhood. But it’s quality, not quantity that counts to me. And at this point in my life, when it comes to friendship, I only give as good as I get.

Over a year ago, I met a woman at my gym who, aside from our shared stair-climbing workouts, I had very little in common with; she was single, childless, rough-around-the-edges, and after devoting herself to her ex-boyfriend for years, now had no girlfriends to speak of. But she appeared to have a good heart, and she needed a friend, so I let her into my life. The woman latched on to me, called me incessantly, and, despite all the hours of listening and support I gave to her, never gave anything back to me; she was simply self-consumed. When we got into an argument a few months ago, I easily made the choice to “let her go,” as I don’t have the time or energy for people who drag me down and never do anything to lift me up.

That said, friendships are a complicated thing…and sometimes “letting go” of someone who really isn’t “good for you” isn’t as easy at sounds. For instance, my mother has been friends with one particular woman for decades—a woman whom I almost consider to be part of our family. But over the last several years, there have been countless fights between these women, tons of miscommunication issues, and lots of hurt feelings. In the last few weeks, things came to a head, and my mother was attacked by this woman for a long list of silly offenses my mother had purportedly committed. When this woman called my mom, my mom was put on the defensive, and hung up the phone crying; she has been miserable about the situation ever since. Everyone tells my mother to “let this woman go,” and I personally advised her that she shouldn’t be friends with someone who makes her feel so uncomfortable—someone whom she has to step on eggshells around, and always be fearful of offending. But dumping a long-time friend isn’t so easy. There’s history there, and lots of emotional investment. Sometimes it’s even a “pride” issue: We want people to like us—especially our old friends—and we sometimes bend over backwards to “fix things,” even when we’re not the ones who broke them.

I’m trying to teach my daughter, Jayda, the value of good friends—and what she should expect from them. Fortunately, she knows a bunch of sweet, little girls whom she likes to play with, and I try to foster these relationships by organizing play dates and encouraging Jayda to be a good friend to her friends. But there’s one little girl at Jayda’s day care who has been a source of angst for both of us. This girl is a close friend of one of Jayda’s best friends, and, as is often the case with threesomes, jealousy issues and conflicts have arisen between the girls. Jayda has told me on many occasions that this girl is “not nice” to her. And several times in the last few months, there have been notes on Jayda’s daily progress sheet informing me that my normally-well-behaved daughter has pinched or pushed “a classmate.” Upon pressing Jayda for details, I’ve learned that Jayda’s attacks have all been toward this particular girl, and Jayda always prefaces her confessions with the fact that this girl was “not nice.” I spoke to Jayda’s teacher, who told me there was nothing to worry about, but I still felt the need to speak to Jayda about the situation. I told her not to spend time with this girl, and to, instead, hang out with girls who were nice to her and treated her well. I stressed that friends should respect one other and make each other feel good—not hurt each other physically, or hurt each other’s feelings. She seemed to “get” it and, lately, has been proudly informing me that she’s been hanging out with “good” friends, and offering the names of a few kids whom I know treat her well.

Recently, I’ve started planning Jayda’s upcoming third birthday party, and asked my daughter which of her classmates she wanted to invite. After offering the name of her “best friend” and a few other nice girls from her class, Jayda rattled off her former nemesis’s name, too. Huh? She says they’re friends now. And the other morning, Jayda waited for this girl in the parking lot so they could hold hands and walk into day care together. I’m not sure if this truce is going to last forever, but for now, I’m hoping the kids have truly worked things out. As I said before, sometimes it’s not so easy to let go of a friend…and sometimes, if the friend turns out to be a decent one (as I hope this little girl will be), you find out you don’t have to, after all. But in the long run, spending time with people who make you feel good about yourself is what counts the most. And I just hope Jayda—and my mother, too—will figure that out.

Bed Hopping -- by Jamie

For the most part, my almost-three-year-old daughter, Jayda, and I co-sleep every night—and we’ve done so ever since she was born. My daughter hates to sleep (even as a baby, she barely napped, and fought the urge to sleep with all her might), and no matter where she is, she takes forever to drift off—and wakes at the crack of dawn. Since Jayda’s sleep battles are generally very noisy, it makes no difference whether she’s in my bed or not—I’m still at the mercy of her sleeping patterns. And if it makes her happier and more secure to be snuggled up with me, I can’t complain. I’m single, with a queen-sized bed, so there’s plenty of room for both of us. Besides, as I’ve read in many parenting magazines and journals, researchers around the world have discovered that children who co-sleep are “more independent, more outgoing, and more confident. As adults, they have higher self-esteem, better stress-management skills, and are more comfortable with intimacy than adults who slept alone as young children.” Sounds good to me!

Of course I do try to encourage Jayda to sleep by herself—as I think it can only enhance her independence—but her standard response is, “I’m not ready yet, Mom.” Her certainty cracks me up, and since I know she will be ready at some point in the not-so-distant future, I can wait. But I do find it quite ironic that, despite Jayda’s aversion to her own bed, she’s obsessed with everyone else’s. She constantly requests to see her friends’ beds—be it to jump on them, or simply tumble around under the covers.

Several months ago, we had a play date at a little boy’s house. Moments after entering the boy’s play room, Jayda approached the boy and demanded, “Let’s go to your room! I want to see your bed!” His father and I looked at each other and laughed…and jokingly insisted, “Keep the door open, kids—and both of you, keep one foot on the floor!”

Similarly, after a recent family dinner at my cousin’s house, Jayda enjoyed running around with my cousin’s twin boys, who are three years older than Jayda. At one point, Jayda disappeared with one of the boys and the boys’ father ran up to his kids’ bedroom to see if they were in there. He returned with this report: “Jayda’s in my son’s bed—with my son. They’re under the covers, giggling.” Then, as if to reassure me, he added “They DO have their clothes on.” Oy. That’s my girl!

Fortunately (or not so fortunately?) it’s not just boys’ beds Jayda adores; she likes hiding under the blankets with her girl friends, too. Many times I’ve let Jayda run off with one of her friends to play in the girl’s bedroom, and have later found Jayda shoeless and curled up under the covers with her pal. She giggles when I find her, and blissfully enjoys “pretending” to nap with her friend.

Lest you think I’m concerned by Jayda’s behavior, I’m not—I actually find it quite amusing (as long as she’s not still dragging her boy friends to their beds when she gets a bit older!). I just find it funny that a kid who doesn’t want her own bed seems to love everyone else’s—and that a kid who hates to sleep enjoys pretending to nap. But who ever said children were easy to understand? Whether she’s sleeping or awake, my unpredictable daughter always keeps my on my toes!

It Must Be Spring -- by Jamie

This past week, the temperature rose…not just outside, but figuratively, too. Suddenly, men from my past were popping up everywhere. A guy I know from High School who lives out of town, but has shown interest in me over the years, texted me that he’d be in New York the next day, and wanted to get together. The very same day, a man I went on a handful of dates with about four years ago, but who seems to “check in” with me every year (only to disappear again shortly thereafter), sent me an email asking how Jayda and I were doing. A few days before that, an ex of mine whom I flirt with now and then—but hadn’t heard from in awhile—sent me a flurry of texts telling me I was on his mind. None of these encounters meant much to me—other than giving me a brief ego boost and a few days of fun flirting. But I found the timing interesting. It was clearly spring…and everyone was feeling freer—and flirtier—than they had during the cold, dark winter.

The same held true at the playground. Jayda and I returned to one of our favorite parks this week for the first time in many months, and bumped into a little boy whom Jayda had played with a lot last year. Suddenly, Jayda was following the boy around like his shadow—literally chasing him—while he showed off for her by climbing the jungle gym expertly and performing silly swinging antics. I realized instantly that they were “flirting” in a simplistic, child-like way: smiling happily at each other, holding each other’s hands as they ran around, and, like a true flirt, Jayda seemed to find everything the boy said or did simply hilarious. At one point, Jayda tumbled off of the swing she’d been riding on with her belly, and burst into tears. Instantly, the boy ran over to her, pulled a “fish” he’d created at school out of construction paper and crayons out of his backpack, and presented it to Jayda to soothe her. She accepted it happily, and her waterworks stopped soon after that. She also accepted a packet of cookies which he offered to her—and even gave him a shy hug in return. Yes, spring was in the air…and as young as these three-year-olds are, it amazed me how they instinctively seemed to know how to “do the mating dance.”

Jayda’s certainly too young for a boyfriend, and right now, I personally don’t have the time to pursue one, myself. But, as I’ve stated before, we both sure do like guys. They’re nice to get attention from—and they’re lots of fun to flirt with—and now that spring is in the air, we’re both looking forward to enjoying the weather—and the good times it promises to bring with it.

Work/Life Balance...Huh? by Jamie

I came home from a much-feared Statistics test the other day, and breathed a sigh of relief. I thought I’d done pretty well on the test—and now I had about two hours to myself. My dad was picking Jayda up from daycare and taking her to the library for awhile so I could have some down-time. And what did I do? I raced around the house, stripping my bed and washing my sheets, wiping down my ridiculously dusty bedroom furniture, and then donned rubber gloves and attacked the downstairs bathroom. The following afternoon, when I finished writing a paper ahead of schedule and found myself with several “extra” hours, I manically scrubbed all of Jayda’s mildewy bath toys with giddy satisfaction, sorted through all of her summer clothes, and cleaned out my sock drawer. Literally. Spare time well spent.

A friend of mine recently posted a query on Facebook about work/life balance:”Who keeps perpetuating this myth that people can have a work/life balance? It's not working for me.” And a clever male friend remarked “single people... the rest of us are just making it up as we go…” I couldn’t have said it better myself. I may not be commuting to a full-time job anymore, but between freelancing and school (and stressing like crazy about both), it’s impossible for this single mom to get everything done…let alone actually relax. Factor a Type-A personality like myself into the mix, and it’s almost laughable. For instance, my mother has been offering me a “free” massage (she bought a package from a local masseuse and has one to spare) for months, but I haven’t had the time to take her up on her offer. Oy.

Lest I seem too pathetic, I do make time to go out for drinks with friends every few weeks, or out on an occasional date, but more often, I’m spending my evenings doing work, studying, or desperately trying to catch up on my sleep. And last week, when my plans to go out for drinks with a girlfriend fell through, instead of kicking back with a glass of wine by myself in front of the television—as a person with a “good work/life balance” might have—I cracked open a Diet Pepsi and a textbook, instead, and did some studying. I couldn’t miss the opportunity (or the opportunity to do a load of laundry, too, as there’s always laundry to do!).

I always pay my bills on time, but my filing system sucks—and I rarely balance my checkbook. Mind you, I never bounce checks—but I can’t take the time to nitpick over every number like I probably should. I never leave dirty dishes in the sink, but I also drink out of soda cans and eat out of take-out containers to lessen the amount of cleaning I’ll need to do. And cook? That rarely happens. I do sort through Jayda’s clothing seasonally because that girl is growing like a weed—but I’m guilty of never going through my own closets; I have clothes in there from pre-Jayda years, that I just don’t have the time to go through (or the energy to throw out). I hear about kids who get baths every night and I don’t understand how or why their moms can make that happen. My daughter’s lucky if she bathes every other night (and believe me, if it was up to her, she’d NEVER get into the bathtub). Working moms have to cut corners, somehow—and something’s gotta give. I never have time to watch DVDs, let alone TV. In fact, if it wasn’t for the Wiggles DVDs I order for Jayda, it would probably be more economical for me to cancel my Netflix subscription right now.

The only thing I do have time for is my daughter: we have several play dates every week, and we do things together after school almost every day. And I always have time for cuddling with her in bed. I’m an excellent multi-tasker, and combining sleepin’ and lovin’ all at the same time is my forte. Because there’s one thing I can always balance: Jayda’s head on my chest and her arms wrapped around me. But as for the rest—my life is definitely off-kilter. And with a kid relying on me, and work that always needs to be done, I’m not sure that’s ever going to change.

My Little Fashionista -- by Jamie

Before becoming a mother, I suspect I sometimes looked judgmentally at little girls in completely mismatched outfits…never really understanding why their moms let them leave their houses looking that way. But now I understand that often the way a child dresses really isn’t under the mother’s control. Sometimes it’s not worth battling with your daughter over outrageous fashion choices when you’re already battling to leave the house on time.

Jayda was fighting with me over her outfit selections earlier than I ever imagined she would—probably by the time she turned two. The blissful baby-dressing years—when I’d been able to dress Jayda in whatever I wanted without consulting anyone else’s opinion—ended abruptly, and she was soon pulling clothes out of her drawers, rejecting many of my choices, and throwing fits when I insisted that her clothing selections didn’t match, were out of season, or, simply no longer fit her.

To appease Jayda and foster her creativity, I gave my daughter carte blanche over her pajama choices; I filled the bottom drawer of her dresser with all sorts of tops and bottoms, and let her pick out whatever she wanted to wear at night. Often that meant polka dots on top and stripes on the bottom. Or pink velour pants with a green cotton shirt. And that was fine with me. Jayda’s wacky outfits were confined to the bedroom and I was content. But of course that wasn’t enough for Jayda; it wasn’t long before she wanted control 24/7.

Now, every morning, Jayda is in charge of picking out her clothes for school; I do get to supervise and offer opinions, but Jayda gets the final say (unless my daughter is insisting on wearing a sundress in 30 degree weather, in which case I put my foot down). Fortunately, I don’t have it as bad as some moms at daycare—who are forced to send their kids to school every day in swirly dresses, or swathed in pink from head to toe. But I do have to make sure that I do laundry constantly, because Jayda is obsessed with her Tinkerbell underwear (and asks for it constantly…throwing fits if I inform her that it’s dirty), and goes through phases where she likes to wear the same things over and over again. And lately, she gets very upset if I don’t listen to her fashion advice while dressing myself, as well.

A few weeks ago, I put on a tailored burgundy shirt I hadn’t worn in ages and Jayda snarled at me: “I don’t like dat, Mommy! Throw it in the garbage!” When I told her that wasn’t going to happen, she got very upset: “What?! You’re not taking it off, Mommy?” I was forced to placate her with fruit snacks and a Max and Ruby video, to make up for my “defiance” of her request. But alternatively, I scored points by purchasing a new “pokie”-dotted bra that Jayda thinks I look “bootiful” in…and believes I should wear “every day!” She even likes to check to see if I am following her advice (and, as I mentioned before, it’s a good thing I do my laundry very often!).

Fortunately, along with the bra, there are plenty of things in my closet Jayda does like—especially shirts that are pink or purple. And when she looks through my clothes, my daughter likes to remind me, “when I get bigger and bigger, I’ll wear these, too, ok?” Sounds fine to me…it would sure save us shopping time…and a heck of a lot of money!

Finding Focus -- by Jamie

I’m back in college after an almost 20-year hiatus, and attending my classes has been a bit of a juggling act, between dropping Jayda off at daycare at her designated hour (and not earlier, because I’m trying to save money), and then trying to beat traffic and snag decent street parking near Queens College—to say nothing of the challenges of participating in the classes, and doing the class work, while still freelancing and being a devoted single mom. But one glitch I didn’t expect is that I’d feel like my three-year-old daughter when it comes to studying for my tests: I just can’t focus.

This past December, my mother gave Jayda a LeapFrog computer for Hanukkah. Jayda was thrilled when she unwrapped the gift, and squealed with delight. She then insisted we hook it up right away so she could test it out. I rushed to attach the device to the television as fast as I could, and as soon as I turned it on, Jayda sat in front of her new “puter” and started to play; less than five minutes later she stopped and stood up: “I done!” she announced, and ran off to do one of her puzzles. My mother’s jaw dropped and she turned to me questioningly. I just shrugged; this was normal Jayda-behavior. My daughter rarely focuses on any activity for longer than a few minutes. She doesn’t even like to watch TV for very long…which is probably a very good thing, developmentally
(though at times when I’d love to keep Jayda occupied while I’m cooking dinner or attending to an important task, I don’t always see it that way).

Similarly, Jayda is still too young and “unfocused” to sit through a movie, or any theater performances. When we went to see “Disney on Ice,” she loved it, but by the end of the first act, she was pretty much “over” it, and was much happier walking back and forth to the bathroom with me and visiting the refreshment stand. And on President’s Day, when we attended a 1-hour “Blues Clues Live” show, Jayda eagerly watched for 50 minutes (while periodically digging into her bag of popcorn, turning around to watch the other kids, and chatting with me about the show), and then squirmed off of my lap and announced “I ready to go home now” before ever discovering the last clue.

As a 40-year-old, I’m much more focused than Jayda—I can certainly watch three-hour movies and Broadway shows—and these days I can even sit through a not-so-scintillating two-hour Social Statistics lecture once a week. But when it comes to studying…oh my. Last week, I faced my first big test since returning to college, and preparing for it was a nightmare.

My biggest mistake was sitting by my computer to study. First, there was the “ding” of my incoming emails to distract me…and of course, I had to check every one. And if any of those emails included a Facebook comment, I then logged on to my Facebook account to take a closer look. Talk about a time-suck! Sitting by my computer also tempted me to do my “regular” work—instead of studying. Of course this was work that I did need to do—but not imminently. Now, as a freelancer, I’m used to working from home, but for some reason, studying requires much more discipline from me than working…and I’m more easily distracted from it, no matter what mundane tasks are calling to me; on my study days, I easily found myself “escaping” to do laundry, to clean the bathroom, or to run out “just for a few minutes” to do some food shopping. Anything to avoid my text book. When it’s pre-test time for me, just like Jayda racing from toy to toy at a play date, I find myself moving around my house taking care of anything and everything that isn’t related to college coursework.

Back in my undergraduate years at the University of Michigan, I often studied at night for a few hours—and then met my friends at a college bar afterwards. Thinking back on that astounds me because these days, I can barely keep my eyes open after 9 pm. But I guess the lesson here is that back at the U of M, I rewarded myself for my studying and, ultimately, I have to learn to do that now. I need to find something to inspire myself (other than a Long Island Ice Tea and a chance to see my latest crush) to get through my next studying ordeal. Because I know my unfocused three-year-old also performs better when she gets rewards…and clearly we have a lot in common.

They say as we grow older, regression eventually sets in. True, I’m only 40…but maybe it’s already starting to happen to me, because one thing is for certain—I can sure use a nap right about now!

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.

Missing Men -- by Jamie

When I first considered becoming a single mother by choice, all the books and materials I read warned me about the importance of surrounding my future child with positive male role models. I figured that wouldn’t be such a difficult task, as I knew my generous, loving father would be greatly involved in the upbringing of my child, and I also had a handful of other terrific males in my life whom I could count on. For instance, I’d been assured that my sister's husband would be a strong presence in my child’s life, as he was a bit wary about my decision to raise a child without a father figure, and told my sister that he’d make sure my daughter always had him to lean on. I also had several good male friends whom I knew I could always rely upon, and assumed they would continue to be involved in my life after my baby was born.

When Jayda arrived, my father stepped in, as I'd predicted, and became a doting grandfather and the perfect male role model any mother could want for her child. And it wasn’t as if I could ignore the idea of having men in my child’s life even if I wanted to; from the start, my daughter appeared to adore men wherever we went. As a baby, she'd coo at the busboys when we went to the diner, and bat her eyelashes at our pediatrician during her check ups. When she started her gymnastics class at 18 months, she almost immediately threw herself into the lap of our attractive male instructor. And because of that early love affair, I made a great effort to keep Jayda involved in the gymnastics program, semester after semester after semester—partly because it was a great class, but more importantly because I wanted Jayda to have a weekly connection with a charismatic male teacher who aimed to improve her confidence. But when I mentioned this to one of my married friends—who had lost her own father at a young age—she laughed at me, and told me to relax and not try so hard. She said her own mother had made absolutely no effort to surround her with any positive male role models after her father had passed away, and she'd turned out fine...and you know what? She's right. She’s a strong, successful, well-adjusted woman—and a great mom, herself.

As it turns out, Jayda's uncle, who'd pledged his early devotion to her...well, he's never around. Yes, he does love Jayda in his own way, but physically, he’s more devoted to his job and his friends and his own life, and barely manages to see Jayda more than five times a year. And my once-cherished male friends? I barely speak to them anymore, myself—let alone rely on them for teaching Jayda about what good men should say or do to a woman.

I've always prided myself on having male friends. Just friends. True...maybe sometimes there was a flirty dynamic between me and a few of those guys, but in the grand scheme of things, we really were JUST friends. However, lately, I've felt let down by just about all of them. And it's not that I expected them to all be there for Jayda (though, that would have been nice)...I just expected them to always be there for me. Because while it's nice for a woman to have her girl friends—and good gal pals are certainly irreplaceable—male friends have their significance, too. Especially for strong, independent women—who, let’s face it, are the type of women who generally become SMCs. Because while I often acted a little tough around my guy friends, I was also able to let my guard down and be a little girlie-girl when necessary. And best of all, my guy friends were great about helping me with things. Fixing stuff for me. Giving me advice about things a woman like me knows nothing about: Car engines, mutual funds, hard drives, and a zillion other random-but-important issues and objects. And they did so in ways that are different than when a girl friend helps me out. I’m not saying I’m good at playing the part of a damsel in distress (far from it!), but sometimes a woman needs to have a guy take care of her…even if it’s just a guy friend. And I miss that. But most of all, I simply miss my guy friends.

But I guess not every man wants to hang out with a single mom. And, of course, it’s true, many of my former male friends and I don’t have all that much in common any more. Some of them used to love swapping dating stories with me—and since I’m not the serial dater I used to be, my stories aren’t as plentiful or exciting as they once were. Another former male friend used to drag me to see bands with him every week; I rarely have the time (or the babysitter) to do that, these days. But I wouldn’t mind seeing a show every now and then…if he’d actually ever invite me now! But what disappoints me more than missing the guys, themselves, is that these guys are missing out on the best thing that’s ever happened to me—Jayda. Oddly enough, instead of me needing these men as “good male role models” for my daughter—who I believe is thriving and doing just fine without them, thank you very much!—I feel like they’re the ones missing out on something. They’re missing out on the warm, witty, amazing daughter I’ve been blessed with…and the remarkable mother I’ve blossomed into because of her. And that’s a shame.

As Jayda’s mother, I can see a lot of myself in my daughter. And, similarly, we both like men a lot: We often turn our heads to take a second look at them, find many of them attractive and charming, and we certainly like to flirt with them. We know there are some good ones out there, and, unfortunately, some not-so-good ones. And all I can do is continue to encourage Jayda to become a strong, confident, intelligent woman—and hope she’ll make the right choices in the men she befriends. But as for “surrounding her with positive male role models,” I’m not going to force the issue. Jayda has plenty of people around her who love her—and it doesn’t matter whether they’re women or men—as long as she can count on them. And she can always count on me. That’s enough.

Worried Sick -- by Jamie

Lately, all of Jayda’s dolls have been throwing up. The other night, as Jayda was munching on a snack bag of animal crackers, she asked me if Big Baby (her favorite doll) could have one of her cookies. “Sure,” I said, and proudly praised her for sharing her snack. Just moments later, Jayda shrieked, “Big Baby is throwing up!” I then had to stop everything I was doing to help Jayda climb up on a step stool so she could hold Big Baby over the kitchen sink, just as I had held my daughter several weeks before, when Jayda had suffered from the stomach flu and couldn’t make it into the bathroom in time. While Jayda was ill, I also showed her how to throw up into the toilet, and now she sometimes takes her dolls to the bathroom and takes care of them while they “get sick” there. Other times, she lets a doll lie on the couch with her and tells me it’s ok if her baby throws up on her legs, as Jayda did on mine once, when she was in the throes of her sickness.

Jayda is a doting mom to her babies, and I like to think she tries to imitate me. The last, and only other time Jayda had a stomach bug, was when she was an infant, and fortunately, she has no memory of those horrible few days. So I guess her recent discomfort—and my subsequent care of her—has left quite an impression on my daughter. However, I’m getting a bit tired of this puking phase—especially when Jayda uses it as a means of manipulating me. Now, whenever she wants to get my attention, she tells me she’s going to throw up—or, simply, that her belly hurts. Of course I initially play along…rub her tummy, dote on my daughter, and then, I cleverly remind her that junk food is likely to give her a stomach ache, and that if she really has one, she’s going to have to abstain from any treats. Usually, that instantly cures her.

But all of this belly aching makes me wonder: Why does Jayda obsess over some things, and not others? Why have the symptoms of a 24-hour stomach bug carried over into her daily life, while other not-so-wonderful experiences are immediately forgotten? I’m simply amazed by what Jayda chooses to remember…and what she forgets. Before Jayda came down with the stomach flu, we had plans to meet a friend in the city to see “Pinkalicious: The Musical”—a silly, kid-friendly play based on Jayda’s absolute favorite picture book. Jayda was immensely excited about the prospect of seeing the play—and about seeing her friend, too. But once Jayda’s sickness subsided, and I began quietly obsessing over how to explain to Jayda that she was too weak to go to the city, and that we’d have to miss the show, she never even mentioned “Pinkalicious.” It’s been weeks, and Jayda has still never asked about the tickets. It’s like the show never existed.

Maybe it’s a child’s right to have selective memory—just as Jayda seems to have selective hearing when I admonish her for things she’s not supposed to be doing—but it sure makes this mom a bit batty. It seems I’m always worrying about how traumatized Jayda will be by some events that ultimately never seem to even bother her. Like my return to school, for instance. While in theory, it hasn’t changed Jayda’s life much yet (she gets dropped off at day care a bit earlier two days a week—and that’s all), I can’t help but worry what kind of a toll it will take on her in the future, even though the commute, the extra work, and the stress are all mine with which to deal right now. A few times last week when Jayda asked about my day and I told her “I went to school,” she actually got a bit combative and countered, “I go to school, too!” It made me wonder if she thinks she has to compete with me now. I assured her that while we both do go to school now, her school is just as—if not more—important than mine. But of course I wondered if my assurances were enough. Then, the other day, Jayda continued a similar conversation with, “Why you go to school, mommy?” I responded, “I need to make more money for us,” and she countered, combatively, again, “I make us money!” as she grabbed me and two of her dolls in a big embrace. So maybe, yet again, I’m worrying for no reason. In her sweet toddler way, Jayda’s just trying to be a doting mom—and that’s behavior I can definitely learn to stomach.

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.

What Goes Around Comes Around: Sending Sick Kids to School -- by Jamie

Last week, after a perfectly normal Thursday, I put Jayda to bed, only to have her wake me up at 2:30 a.m. saying, “Mommy, something’s not right.” I touched her forehead, and it was burning hot. After taking her temperature and discovering it was 102.6, I dosed her with Tylenol and insisted she put a cold cloth on her head while I held her in my arms. Always the drama-queen, Jayda then started moaning, “I sick, mommy…I sick.” “I know, baby,” I murmured, “Mommy’s here…and I’ll take you to the doctor first-thing in the morning.”

“I don’t want to go to the doctor!” Jayda snapped back. “I want to play!” And she jumped out of bed and proceeded to do just that…for two hours. Some fever. After dozing on and off, myself, until 4:30 a.m., I finally coaxed Jayda back into bed with me, and she fell asleep in my arms. At 6:30 a.m., I woke up and felt her forehead, and it was cool as a cucumber. The thermometer confirmed this, displaying 98.6 degrees. And yet, despite Jayda’s protestations, as well as the big pile of writing projects waiting for me on my desk, I took Jayda to the doctor at 9 a.m. He couldn’t find anything wrong with her—even swabbed her negatively for strep throat when I told him it was rampant at Jayda’s day care—and surmised that it must have been a virus, or even a minor strain of the flu that had only lasted for a few hours because Jayda had been immunized. Jayda’s exam was over by 9:30, so I had to ask: “Can I send her to school today?” The doctor looked at me sternly and said, “That’s not a medical question—it’s a social question. She IS fine…but she obviously caught whatever she had last night from someone at school. Do you really want someone else to catch it from her?” And so, I took Jayda home with me—a very healthy, incredibly hyper Jayda—with the realization that all the work I’d planned to do that day because I wouldn’t be able to do it on Monday (when Jayda would be home with me for Martin Luther King Day) would have to get done after Jayda’s bedtime. And an already-exhausted mommy would have to spend her entire day entertaining a tireless kid. Sometimes having a conscience sucks.

Last week, we had a play date with a friend whose 2-1/2-year-old son has never been in day care; my friend’s mom watches her little boy while she and her husband work full-time. However, my friend called me an hour before we were supposed to meet to give me a heads-up that her son had a runny nose. I laughed. Well, of course I also thanked her for her sensitivity (it’s always nice to know I have thoughtful friends), but then I informed her that as long as her child didn’t have a fever or a contagious disease, I had no problem with my child playing with him in a public place (as was our plan). These days I don’t even blink an eye at runny noses, coughs, and colds, as they’ve been a part of our daily lives ever since Jayda started day care at 3-1/2 months.

Jayda has a constant flurry of colds all winter long; if I kept her home from day care every time she had one, half of my tuition would be wasted. And while personally having a cold can make me pretty darn miserable, having one doesn’t seem to slow my kid down much. She won’t nap. She won’t rest. And she certainly won’t go to bed early. If anything, she just requires even more attention from me than ever, and, if I dare ask how she’s feeling, she only plays on my sympathies (Jayda: “Mommy, I sick! I need a special treat to feel better.” Me: “Oh, poor baby. What kind of special treat, honey?” Jayda: “M&Ms, Mommy. Lots of them.”) So while on occasion I wonder, “Should I keep Jayda home today?” when she seems especially congested, I generally wind up sending her to day care in the end, because I figure she’ll be happier there…and, let’s face it, so will I.

But is that fair? Is it the right thing to do? I can’t say for sure. But it is my reality. It’s tough keeping a kid home from school when you have other obligations—no matter what your circumstances are. So I’ve given myself some slack in regards to minor sniffles and colds. But fevers and flus and infectious diseases? Never. The kid who gave Jayda her mysterious fever should never have been at day care—and the parent who sent the child there should be ashamed (if the child was exhibiting symptoms, that is). I bitched and moaned for days about staying home with Jayda on Friday, and it took me three weekend nights to finish the work I’d hoped to do on her sick day, but I know I did the right thing—even if Jayda never seemed the slightest bit sick. And Jayda certainly didn’t mind having an extra day at home with her Mommy…or an extra helping of “feel better” M&Ms.

Putting Things in Perspective -- by Jamie

Last weekend, the mother of one of Jayda’s day care friends invited us to join them in attending “Disney on Ice.” Jayda was thrilled when I explained to her that “Mickey Mouse and all the Princesses would be ice skating, and she and her friend could sit together and watch them.” Mickey and Minnie introduced the show, and Jayda clapped happily from my lap. But as the characters from “Aladdin” came out for the first act, and a procession of genies skated out across the ice, kicking like Rockettes, Jayda quickly turned around and buried her face into my neck. I suddenly realized that a performance that had appeared magical and impressive to me, seemed ominous and frightening to my little girl.

As the show continued, though Jayda did enjoy it (and woke up the next morning demanding, “I want to go to Disney again!”), she also dragged me out to the lobby for walks at inopportune moments, changed her position (from my lap to her own chair back to my lap) at least a dozen times, constantly fished for snacks from my pocketbook, and often tried to engage me in conversations (“Mommy! Talk about our day!”). While Jayda’s friend, who is several months older than Jayda, sat mesmerized in her seat for the entire show (even through the intermission!), Jayda lacked the focus—just as she doesn’t have the patience to sit through a DVD at home (or even more than 5 or 10 minutes of a TV show, for that matter)—without constantly getting up to play.

Jayda’s in nursery school, and her development over the last six months has been astounding. She goes to the bathroom on her own now—even shuts the door in my face, insisting on her privacy. She also grabs her bedtime books from me and takes a turn “reading” to me almost every night. And when I remind her that something is “for grownups,” she counters, “I a big girl now! I can do it/use it!” So, sometimes I forget that Jayda isn’t even three years old yet. Often she forgets it, too. But our experience at “Disney on Ice” was a much-needed reminder for both of us that Jayda’s still a toddler in many ways: She gets scared of monster-like genies no matter how graceful they are, and she can’t sit still for a show—even if it is vastly entertaining. And that’s just fine. I don’t need to rush her to grow up any faster.

Sometimes we expect too much from people—or even from ourselves. And I think we’ve all been victims of not seeing clearly what’s in front of us. The other day, I met an old friend for lunch in the city. First and foremost, he’s an old friend. But he’s also my former personal trainer. Before I had Jayda, I trained with this friend three times a week for many, many years. And while I still work out and eat healthfully now, I certainly don’t have the physique I’d attained while training with Jim. As he sat across the table from me, Jim told me I looked great, and I scowled at him. While I don’t expect to have the 8% body fat I used to, I would like to be 10 pounds lighter, and I certainly don’t feel like I look fabulous these days. But after our lunch, Jim emailed me that I really DO look great…”much better than I believe.” Reading his email made me smile. And I realized it’s all about keeping things in perspective. Every woman—and every mother—needs to keep things in perspective: Her daughter’s true age. The way she looks. Even the kind of mother she is. And sometimes all we need to do is take a step back and look at things from a different angle (or from another person’s viewpoint) and we’ll better see the truth. It’s a good thing to do once in awhile, and I think we all need to remind ourselves of that.

Back to School -- by Jamie

This was a big week in the education-department for the Levines: Jayda started nursery school, and I registered for some important classes of my own. Both were big milestones for each of us, though Jayda’s transition was far easier than I expect my return to college will be.

Jayda has been at the same day care center since she was 3-1/2 months old. She’s always been ahead of the learning curve, and has been promoted into each of her classes at an earlier age than most of the other kids. Thus, in September, when many of Jayda’s friends (who are slightly older than Jayda) were moved up to the nursery school program, I expected Jayda would be following them. But due to classroom overcrowding and some annoying day care bureaucracy, she lagged behind for awhile. Ultimately, my daughter successfully potty trained, vastly improved her vocabulary, spent much of her time helping the younger kids in her toddler room, and, in sum, displayed what I felt was extreme readiness for nursery school. Fortunately, by the holidays, my relentless hounding of the school’s director finally reaped success, and to my relief, Jayda became the only child allowed to transition to nursery school in January.

Jayda’s first day in nursery school was drama-free for both of us. She took to the ground running—literally—and leapt out of my arms, shouting, “Mommy—LEAVE!” as she ran to join her old friends, who were playing happily in her new classroom. When I came to pick Jayda up in the afternoon, her new teacher informed me that Jayda had had a terrific day, and it had seemed “like Jayda had been in nursery school forever.” As I’d suspected, Jayda’s move into nursery school had been long overdue, and she’d been more than ready to get started there.

I, on the other hand, am likely to have more trouble adjusting to my new classes. I received a B.A. in Communication from the University of Michigan in 1991, and never imagined I’d be going back to college at almost-40-years-old. For more than 15 years, I worked in children’s publishing—as a writer, a school book club editor, a marketer, and a buyer—and have always loved my career. But sadly, as the result of corporate downsizing, I found my job eliminated a year ago. Freelance writing and consulting have kept me financially afloat, but I’m no longer fulfilled by my daily work, nor do I have the job stability I need as a single mother. After much soul-searching, I’ve decided to pursue grad school, specifically for Speech Pathology—a career that would profit from my occupational experiences and strengths, and provide the job-flexibility and salary I need to raise my daughter.

However, I can’t just take the GREs, apply to grad school, and get started on a second career. First, I must fulfill several Speech Pathology-related undergraduate prerequisites. And before I could even register for those classes, I had to apply to (and be admitted to) a special university program. Fortunately, I was accepted to the program at Queens College, and this past week, I met with an advisor to help me select my classes. At this late date (classes start at the end of January), most of the classes I needed were closed, and I was only able to get into two. But that’s a start. And what with commuting to Queens from Long Island twice a week, continuing my freelance work (I still need to bring in as much money as possible), and taking care of my daughter, I guess that’s enough to get my feet wet.

Because I’m a “planner,” it has been my natural inclination to map out my “school plan”—to consider all the work I’ll be doing for my classes, as well as the time I’ll need to spend schlepping back and forth to the campus. But not everything involved with going back to school at my age is so easy to predict. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to listen to a lecture, take copious notes, or study for a test. When it comes to being a student, I’m out of practice—as well as out-of-the-loop in regards to modern-day college practices. Even applying to school this time was a novel experience for me: When I applied to Michigan, I typed out my application and essays on an electric typewriter—and mailed a check to the school. This time, I applied online and simply entered my credit card number. A lot has changed in two decades.

This week, while I waited for my appointment with my advisor at Queens College, I sat in a waiting room with other prospective students, who, technically, were young enough to be my children. And that’s going to be an interesting experience, too. Things may be different in grad school, but right now, while I’m taking my undergraduate classes, I’ll be sharing lecture halls and assignments with young men and women who are literally half my age. And that will definitely be an adjustment—for me and for them, I’m sure. I’m fairly certain none of them will be juggling their studies with mother- or fatherhood, and I’ll be a novelty.

The other day, I told Jayda I was going back to school, and she got very excited about it. She wondered, “Is it a big school?”—like the elementary school we pass on the way to her day care center—and asked, “Will you be going on a school bus?” which is her own personal fantasy. And, of course, she asked if she could “come, too.” There is actually a nice playground outside the Speech Pathology department office building, and I may bring her there to check it out in the spring. While my time at school certainly won’t be full of fun and games like Jayda’s nursery school adventures, hopefully it will still be a positive experience. And I may as well show Jayda some of the fun that can be involved, since nothing—including going back to school—is a solo venture for me anymore.


Back in September, Jayda and I appeared on a local cable TV show in a segment about SMCs. If you’d like to check it out, here are the YouTube links:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehgwxZfhNL8 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYEavdyFDUM http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJ9aaxXA_TA

Losing Sleep over Losing Sleep -- by Jamie

I hate bedtime. Not my bedtime—I actually long for the moment I’m able to crawl under the covers and go to sleep. But Jayda’s bedtime is a completely different story.

From the moment she was born, Jayda was a horrible sleeper. Even when she was just a tiny infant, everyone joked that this kid simply didn’t want to miss anything. She was alert and happy most of the time—and turned into a screaming lunatic when anyone tried to put her down for a nap. It’s a lucky thing she was so cute and good-natured, or I don’t know how her daycare teacher would have tolerated her, because getting Jayda to nap was probably the toughest part of her teacher’s job. Other moms I knew could count on 2-3 hour breaks throughout the day during which they could get chores done—or even take a nap, themselves—while their babies were sleeping; I never had that luxury. I was lucky if Jayda napped for an hour twice a day. And nights were even worse: Jayda was up every few hours, and thus, so was I. It took until Jayda was 18 months old before she finally started sleeping through the night (“the night” being from 8 p.m. until 5 a.m., which to me, at that point, was utter bliss). Even now, she rarely sleeps past 5:30 a.m., and is my daily alarm clock. But at least she doesn’t disturb me in the middle of the night anymore.

However, just as when she was a baby, Jayda still won’t go to sleep on her own. From the start, my child needed to be held, rocked, carried around the room, and coaxed to sleep. She never fell asleep in her car seat, nor in her swing, and certainly not just by laying down in her crib. My father was the master of getting baby Jayda to konk out—he’d hold her close to his chest and sing to her and walk around the house until she succumbed to his “charms.” Then he’d let her take her entire nap on his chest, because he wouldn’t dare risk putting her down—and having her wake up. We used to call him “Mr. Mattress.” As Jayda got older, carrying and rocking her to sleep was replaced by rubbing her back while she laid in her crib…but even that required tons of time and patience, as Jayda would fight sleep for as long as possible.

As it’s always been, Jayda’s bedtime is full of rituals. Every night, Jayda changes into her pajamas, uses the potty, and crawls into bed with me with a pile of books. After our book-reading, we turn out the lights and cuddle and, as Jayda requests, “talk days.” I tell her about my day and she tells me about hers, and then I tell her what we have planned for the next day. After that, I rub her back until she goes to sleep. However, lately, that can take forever because my child has become a master procrastinator.

First, she’ll ask for a drink of water (which I keep next to the bed), then she’ll toss and turn and start to ask questions that she already knows the answers to, like “Where’s Grandma?” or ridiculous ones like “What’s Rocco (her friend at school) doing?” If I ignore her, she’ll keep repeating her questions until I answer. And when I tell her to stop talking, she turns all mushy on me and asks for a “big hug,” which, of course I can’t ignore, and sometimes showers me with kisses. Then comes the “Mommy—I have to use the potty!” request. As a very recently potty-trained child, she has me wrapped around her finger because she knows I won’t refuse her a trip to the bathroom. This request only comes once though, since, after I take her to the bathroom, I warn her that we’re not coming back, so she “better make use of her time there!”

Some nights, Jayda adds new surprises to her repertoire. The other evening, she tossed and turned in bed insisting that her back hurt and she needed an ice pack—clearly imitating her grandmother. Once, she insisted she needed dental floss because her “teeth hurt.” She’s also been known to change her mind about what doll she wants to sleep with (wanting the one that is downstairs, of course), claim that her feet are cold and she needs special socks, or suddenly decide that she urgently needs an application of “tushie medicine” (ie: Desitin).

Of course I don’t give in to every demand Jayda makes, and I don’t calmly lie next to her for hours. But leaving her to fall asleep alone isn’t a solution either. Because if I do, Jayda screams and cries for awhile, and then she just calmly sits in bed and waits for me to come back. She’ll wait for hours, too. There have been nights when I’ve gone out for drinks with friends, and have come home to find that Jayda has waited up for me. My mom will put her to bed, and Jayda will lie there calmly…but she won’t go to sleep until she knows I’m home with her. If I’m out very late, eventually exhaustion takes her out…but it could take hours…and I don’t want my kid staying up and losing her much-needed sleep simply because I don’t have the patience to sit with her for a bit longer. So, each night, I return to cajole her to sleep.

As an overtired mommy who LOVES her bed, I’ll never understand why Jayda doesn’t welcome sleep as I do. Even when she’s totally exhausted and rubbing her eyes, and it’s clear to both of us that she needs to pass out, she won’t. She’ll fight me with her very last bit of energy—and she’ll fight hard. My willful child has conquered her naps, of course, and no longer takes them. Oh, the irony: Jayda’s needing (or at least succumbing to) less sleep than ever…and I need more. People tell me this will change…but I fear it won’t until she’s a teenager. I hope I’m proven wrong.