The Sweet Life -- by Jamie

When I was a child, I was a terrific eater; my mom often relates her memories of me gnawing on a lamb chop when I only had a couple of baby teeth in my mouth. And throughout my youth, I always loved to eat—both good foods and bad-for-me foods—as evidenced by my baby fat, which lingered far longer than it should have, well into my adolescence.

As an adult, I’ve embraced healthful eating by balancing a diet of lean proteins, whole grains, and lots of veggies and fruits, with an occasional sugar binge when I can’t ignore my ever-present cravings. I DO love sugar, but try to avoid it as much as possible. My daughter, Jayda, however, is a toddler, and has no self-control: Though I do allow her all kinds of treats—in moderation—she begs for cookies at 6 a.m. (as well as throughout the rest of the day!), and for ice cream every time she hears the music from the truck. She’s also the pickiest eater I know; aside from our shared love of sugar, her eating habits are nothing like mine. And it’s so frustrating.

When Jayda was a baby, she ate all of the vegetables I put in front of her; as a toddler, she refuses to consume any of them. Oddly enough, the only veggie she’ll willingly nibble on is an artichoke, but I think her pleasure mostly comes from emulating me (I’m an artichoke fanatic), and eating with her fingers—not from the taste of the artichoke, itself. The teachers at Jayda’s day care insist that my daughter likes the veggies they serve there once a week, but I suspect she’s just eating them because all of her friends are. Because when other kids are not around, it’s nearly impossible for me to even sneak veggies into Jayda’s diet. Sometimes, as a treat, I’ll give her a can of V8 V-Fusion, which combines vegetables with sweet fruit juice. I also bake low-fat zucchini/carrot bread on occasion—but I have to call it “pumpkin bread,” or my daughter, who insists she hates carrots, will refuse to try it (though, remarkably, when she perceives it as pumpkin bread, she’ll devour slices of it). But my creative solutions end there: Jayda won’t eat pasta with red sauce (so I can’t puree vegetables and hide them in the sauce, as many people have suggested), and she won’t consume anything green, no matter what I douse it in.

Similarly, when it comes to protein, Jayda’s not a fan. She’ll eat rotisserie chicken once in awhile, but nothing else. No hamburgers or hot dogs, nor any kind of meat. No fish or shellfish. Not even chicken fingers (which, secretly, I’m pleased about). And pizza? She takes the cheese off, chucks it, and simply eats the crust. She’s also the only kid I know who rarely enjoys macaroni and cheese. Cheese sticks? Never. Eggs? Sometimes she’ll scarf down a scrambled one on a Sunday morning…but most other times, she’ll turn up her nose. Fortunately, she does like yogurt, and Greek yogurt is a staple in my home. Sometimes, I mix it with a sprinkle of Splenda, generously smear it on bread, and call it “cream cheese.” Jayda always asks for seconds. Other times, I serve Greek yogurt and a bowl of fruit for Jayda’s evening meal. When I was pregnant with Jayda, I secretly worried about cooking family dinners. I’m no Martha Stewart and I stressed over the idea of producing hot balanced meals for both of us every night. Little did I know I’d have nothing to worry about; Jayda eats somewhat nutritiously, but not because I’m cooking nutritious meals for her.

Lately, I’ve been buying “Pure Protein” ready-made shakes; they come in a can, and I pour about 1/3 of the contents into Jayda’s sippy cup of milk and call it “chocolate milk.” She consumes about 15 grams of protein in several swigs, and both of us are satisfied. She also likes to take bites of the protein bars I eat after my work outs—and has even devoured a Balance Gold bar (also 15 grams of protein) all by herself after an active day at the playground.

I believe I’ve been fairly creative in seeking out healthy food choices for Jayda, because left to her own devices, my daughter would survive on cookies, candy, ice cream, and bread. Oh, and fruit, too (she loves every kind—which isn’t surprising considering her raging sweet tooth). But dining out is a complete nightmare; no matter what I order for her, Jayda just eats the dinner rolls that are put on the table, or worse—the French fries that come with her entrée. So, I’m forced to always bring a healthy, protein-packed selection of snacks with us wherever we go. While other kids are given potato chips to munch on with their sandwiches, in lieu of the sandwich (that Jayda won’t eat), I give my daughter what we call “chips”—a bag of Glenny’s Soy Crisps (low fat, high fiber, and 9 grams of protein in a bag). They’re delicious and nutritious—though a rather unconventional choice for a meal.

My daughter is healthy, active, and isn’t overweight. But her eating habits stink. And I often wonder if I’m doing Jayda damage by turning her into a perpetual snacker, and allowing her to eat so many sweet foods (even if they are healthy ones). Grazing is supposed to be healthy for adults…but is it a positive habit for a kid to develop? I have no idea. All I know is that I want my daughter to thrive nutritionally, to always enjoy her food, and that mealtimes should never be a battle for us; and for now, I’m sticking to those rules. I have too many other things to worry about!

A Different Spin on Spring Break -- by Jamie

I have many wonderful memories of past Spring Breaks, ranging from a carefree trip I took to the Bahamas with my parents and my good friend at the end of high school, to an alcohol-infused vacation I had in Acapulco with a bunch of college pals, to my solo adventure in New Zealand on a singles tour while I was studying for a semester in Sydney, Australia. Good times. Really good times.

And now, for the first time in almost twenty years, I’m on Spring Break again: A ten-day hiatus from my classes at Queens College, where I’m working on my degree to become a Speech Language Pathologist. As I finished my final test last week, and completed an important Statistics lab assignment over the weekend, I felt a huge swell of relief…but it’s far from party-time for me.

My first day of “vacation” was spent working on a freelance project (which, thankfully I didn’t have to do at night, which is when I generally complete my paid work during the semester), doing several loads of laundry, and scrubbing the bathroom clean—before I raced out to pick up Jayda from daycare and headed to a play date. While chatting on the phone that night with a good friend, who asked me what I was going to do with my time off (alluding to lots of potential R&R for me, and perhaps some great social activities), I rattled off a list of things I needed to get done. Most importantly, I need to renegotiate a lease for my car (as it’s up in 6 weeks), and figure out health insurance plans for me and Jayda (since my Cobra expires at the end of May). Also on that list is figuring out my Fall class schedule (I have to register after Spring Break, and it’s crucial that I secure four important classes in order to apply to Grad school in the winter), reorganizing my parents’ garage (where I’ve stored boxes of things from my former apartment for the past three years, and have finally been asked to remove them), and running a myriad of long-overdue errands. In sum, this Spring Break will be a far cry from drinking Margaritas on the beach and hooking up with hot guys.

And yet it’s still a big relief. Ever since Jayda was born, my life has been non-stop; when new responsibilities unfold, I take them on, because there is no alternative. I’m a mom—and a pretty good one, I think—and it’s my job to do whatever I must to make a good life for myself and my daughter. At one time, that meant commuting to the city every day for work, and still managing to cook, clean, shop, and spend quality time with my daughter during the week. Now, it means taking on as much freelance work as I can, excelling in my college classes, and still accomplishing those aforementioned chores and taking care of my daughter (and enjoying her!) as well as I can. When more is required of me, I dig deeply and do more—because that’s what a single mother does. And I manage; I juggle, I organize, and I make it through every day just fine. But losing one layer of responsibility does make a difference: It’s like removing just a bit of pressure that’s been holding me down, and allowing myself to take an extra deep breath. And that much-needed breath is a very nice thing. It means I can go to the gym a few extra days this week, snuggle with my daughter a little bit longer on mornings when I’d normally fly out of bed to get ready for my long drive to school, and, mentally, have a bit more space in my brain to focus on what’s most important in my life: Jayda.

I won’t be completely carefree this week, and I certainly won’t be without responsibilities, but I can still enjoy my break. I can even make myself a mean Margarita. But as for the hot guy on the beach, he’ll have to wait. First, I have a second degree to earn, money to make, and an amazing little girl who needs my attention right now—and is much more worthy of my time.

Too Sweet for Our Own Good -- by Jamie

I don’t have many vices: I’ve never smoked. I rarely drink. And I certainly don’t take drugs. I also eat very healthfully, and exercise 5-6 days a week. However, I do adore candy. Not chocolate, and nothing fancy—just crappy, commercial, sugar-infused treats! Show me a package of Swedish Fish, and I’ll inhale it. Bring me a bag of jelly beans and I won’t stop at just a handful. Things like Mike and Ikes, Tootsie Pops, Chuckles, candy corn, and even Dots are all fair game. When it comes to sugar, just a little can set me off on a calorie-laden binge. So, generally, I try to avoid it.

It has always been my intention to have my daughter, Jayda, eat as healthfully as I do. From the moment she started consuming solid foods, she became a fan of Greek yogurt, all kinds of fresh fruit, and mostly healthy treats—as I offered her homemade zucchini/carrot bread in lieu of cupcakes, and Fig Newtons instead of Oreos. I didn’t even introduce her to ice cream until she was almost two: Jayda adored yogurt with smashed berries in it so much, I figured she didn’t need strawberry ice cream in her life. But my, oh my, how things have changed!

Jayda got her first taste of a candy-like treat when she received a packet of chewy fruit snacks (made with real fruit juice, as the label touted!) at a party. She adored them, and inhaled the entire bag. Soon after, she was treated to a gummi bear at a friend’s house, and noticed the similarity—it was yummy! At the time, we were embarking on potty training, so I decided to use a gummi bear as a reward every time Jayda peed on the potty. Then, my mother added her leftover M&M’s to the bag. Soon, my smart little toddler was using the potty once for a gummi bear, and then running back to the bathroom not 10 minutes later to pee again (for an M&M this time, of course). I’d created a monster.

When Halloween rolled around, it brought with it memories of my blissful childhood candy binges. Thus, as I dug into my own bag of candy corn, I decided to let Jayda create her own wonderful memories of my favorite holiday. While we went trick or treating, I let my candy-fanatic-in-training have full control of her candy until bedtime, and she grazed through her bag of treats with my blessings. But when she woke up the next day asking for Halloween again—and tantrumed when I told her Halloween was over—I knew I had a problem. As a compromise, I doled out bits of her left-over treats when she used the potty: A piece of a Kit-Kat for one bathroom visit, a mini-Snickers for another. But as I looked at my child’s chocolate-smeared face one morning, I had to admit Jayda was consuming waaaaaay too much candy.

That’s when I decided to implement a reward chart: Every time Jayda uses the potty, she earns a sticker. After she fills a row on the chart with six stickers, she can reach into a fancy bag I created and choose a treat. The bag is filled with everything from makeup to sparkly barrettes to a Tootsie Pop and a small bag of M&Ms. In no time, Jayda was earning stickers and selecting candy from the bag. Just candy…and always candy. Even the lip gloss she’d long coveted has been brushed aside every time Jayda gets her hands on “the bag.” And when Jayda has a candy craving, and realizes she doesn’t have enough stickers on her chart to warrant some, she cries…and cries.

My daughter has been fully potty trained since Thanksgiving. She even made it into the city this week on the Long Island Railroad, and spent the day with me perusing store windows, checking out the tree, and watching the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center—happily using bathrooms wherever we went. She also made it through a trip to FAO Schwartz without asking me to buy her a single thing—except when we walked by the candy section of the store. She didn’t mind leaving FAO without a new toy, but she did want a big, swirly lollypop—and she wanted it badly.

The holidays are nearly over, and with the New Year, comes resolutions. This year, I’m resolving to get rid of Jayda’s reward chart—and the candy. Of course I’ll allow Jayda to have a lollypop now and then, or even a bag of M&Ms once a week. But her dose of daily candy has got to stop. Because no matter how I try to sugar-coat it, Jayda is her mother’s daughter…and she’s becoming a candy addict, too. And now it’s this addict’s job to teach Jayda a lesson in moderation. Maybe we’ll both learn something together!

Giving Thanks -- by Jamie

Although this blog entry won’t be posted until after Thanksgiving, I’m hoping I’ll continue to give thanks for all the wonderful things I have in my life long after the holiday has come and gone. That said, I’d like to start here.

As a single mother by choice, I put a lot of thought and effort into becoming a mother, and therefore, I feel very fortunate to be one. I’m especially grateful to Jayda’s sperm donor for helping me create her. But at times when I’m frustrated or disappointed with my daughter’s behavior, I need to remind myself to be thankful that my issues with Jayda aren’t big ones. I may stress over our reward system for potty training, what nursery school will be welcoming and challenging enough for Jayda, and how to get her to fall asleep without rubbing her back and holding her in my arms, but I am fortunate enough to have a healthy, happy, intelligent, and well-loved daughter—and in the grand scheme of things, that’s a lot to be thankful for.

In addition to being a mother, I’m thankful for having a mother—especially one who is so wise, loving, and caring, as well as a wonderful grandmother to Jayda. At a time when I’ve recently witnessed several of my friends lose their mothers, and have listened to others complain about, or battle with their moms, I know I’m very lucky to have a mother who is an amazing maternal figure—as well as my good friend.

I’m also thankful for my father, who has always supported and loved me, and has been there for me to lean on. He epitomizes the type of male role model I want Jayda to have in her life, and fortunately, he’s involved very deeply with her upbringing. He also exhibits many of the qualities I’d like to find in a mate for myself someday, and I’m thankful to him for showing me the depth of love and kindness that both Jayda and I deserve.

After recently listening to the trials of one of my teenage relatives, who laments over not having any good girlfriends, I’ve realized how thankful I should be for my girlfriends. I still socialize with several high school and college friends, as well as my best friend from elementary school. Just as importantly, in the past few years I’ve made some wonderful “mommy friends”—women with children Jayda’s age, whom I can confide in and count on just as much as my friends from my youth. I’ve never taken my friends for granted, but I suppose I may sometimes underestimate how lucky I am to have so many solid connections in my life. And though I still find it difficult to ask my friends for help when I’m in a bind, at least I know I have friends to lean on if I need them. And I’m thankful for that.

Last but not least, I’m thankful for Barney (Aaaargh…did I really just say that?!) for “babysitting” Jayda while I read my paper in the morning, for Folgers coffee for giving me the extra energy I need after Jayda’s 5 a.m. wake-ups, for Gold’s Gym for helping me release my stress (well, at least some of it!) in a positive way every morning, and for all the laughter I have in my life—be it Jayda’s raucous giggles, or my own squeals of amusement while gossiping with friends. These days, while I often find myself stressing over my finances, and my plans for the future, I’m grateful that my life, in general, is filled with happiness, and a wealth of good times. And thankfully, as a result, Jayda is a very happy person, full of lots of laughter, herself. I can only hope she’ll be that way for the rest of her long life. Amen.

No Time to Waste -- by Jamie

As I’ve articulated here before, the experience of dating as a single mother is quite a bit different than dating as a single woman without a child. For me, both logistically—and emotionally—it’s a lot more difficult.

That said, ever since Jayda was born, all of my dating has evolved at a much slower pace, since the act of actually setting up a date is complicated, and involves a sitter and a lot of Jewish mommy guilt. Consequently, as a single mother, I haven’t had a serious relationship with anyone yet. This has been partly out of choice—I often feel I don’t have the time to devote to anyone else but me and Jayda—and partly because I haven’t met anyone whom I could actually picture myself with long-term (especially with Jayda in the picture). And I don’t have the spare time to spend on Mr.-Nothing-Special anymore.

In the past, I dove into a myriad of forced-dating ventures—went to singles events, visited all types of online dating sites, and even tried speed-dating. But, a romantic at heart, I always pictured myself meeting Mr. Right in a not-so-pressurized setting—at the gym, in a coffee shop, or at some other chance meeting.

Once I had Jayda, I felt a lot less pressure to “have to” meet a man quickly; my attitude instead, became, that I’d simply like to meet a man…and if it didn’t happen soon, that would be fine, too. But, regardless, I’ve always had a vision of meeting Mr. Right-for-Both-Me-and-Jayda at a family-friendly outing. At the playground…or a PTA meeting…or some place where I’d find a doting single dad taking care of his own child. The commonality of being parents would bring us together (and there’s also the fact that I find doting dads extremely sexy!).

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago when I met a single dad at a local town fair. Our children (both young girls) presented a great conversation starter, and that led to a flurry of emails between us over the following weeks. We finally met for breakfast the other day…and our 9:15 meeting abruptly ended at 12:30, when we both looked at our watches and realized Single Dad was late for a meeting! It’s been a long time since I’ve lost track of time like that, and even longer since I’ve been on a date where both of us had so much in common, had so much to talk about, and clearly enjoyed each others’ company (and had no hesitation in admitting that to each other). Though it seemed to take us eons to get together for that “first date,” neither of us wasted any time cutting to the chase. Single Dad effusively told me he hasn’t remembered having such a good time in ages, and that he can’t wait to see me again. I agreed.

I left the date knowing I’d hear from Single Dad soon, and that we’d go out again. I did. And we will. And that’s one nice thing about dating as a single mother; there’s no time to throw away on nonsense. These days, I can’t waste a moment sitting by the phone, waiting for it to ring, or wondering if a guy is “just not that into me.” I’m honest now—and anyone whom I’d like to date is honest with me, too. Single Dad told me that up until our breakfast date he hadn’t called me because he’d been afraid of rejection—that if he didn’t reach me directly, I might not call him back. But I told him—and I meant it—that if I didn’t want to call him back, he’d know it. I don’t have time to play games. And any Mr. Right-for-Both-Me-and-Jayda won’t have time for that either.

I’m looking forward to getting to know Single Dad. And I’m hoping, someday, Jayda might get to know him, too. He appears to be a really great father, and a good, honest man. He has a lot of potential, and I’m happy to invest the few extra moments I do have, in finding out more about him. I suspect it will be time well-spent.

Just Plan on Being Stressed Out! by Jamie

I’ve always been a “planner.” Before I picked up and moved to Alaska the summer after I graduated college, I subscribed to the Anchorage Daily News for a month, scouted out places to live and jobs to pursue, and even introduced myself to a few eligible Alaskan men.

All of my subsequent adventure travel trips were well-plotted out, too. Before I took off around the globe, I did tons of research, mapped out my destinations in each country, made lists of things I needed to take care of—and pack—weeks before I departed, and left nothing to chance.

My foray into single motherhood was highly planned as well, and when I successfully became pregnant, I had 40 weeks to ready myself for being a mom. I moved my life and my belongings from NYC to Long Island, read dozens of “what to expect” books, organized my room and my baby’s, lined up a daycare facility, prepared my co-workers for my maternity leave, and did everything a person can possibly do to “be ready” for motherhood.

But can you ever really prepare to be a parent? And what happens when the stability you think you’ve created in your life unexpectedly falls apart? What if your job of a decade is eliminated, and the money you’ve counted on, and the career you’ve focused on for over fifteen years, suddenly go kaput?

Lately, I’ve been discovering that planning out my future isn’t always possible—or even helpful. But instead of turning me into a more carefree person, this conclusion has simply made me a more panicked one. How can a head-of-the-household structure her life—and her expenses—on a project-by-project basis? How can she select her daughter’s nursery school for fall 2010 without knowing her own work schedule? And, most disconcerting of all, how can she potentially embark on a graduate school degree without knowing how much freelance work she’ll be able to take on, and how quickly she’ll deplete her savings account while securing a degree? Planning really isn’t possible for most of the long-term questions I’m pondering now, and it’s probably why I’ve been suffering from countless migraines and dizzy spells (which my neurologist is convinced aren’t “serious,” thankfully).

As a mom, there is, of course, plenty of joy in spontaneity. I’ve been known to let Jayda splash around in mud puddles and ruin her outfit because it just seemed silly to have her miss the chance to enjoy a rainstorm. I’ve taken Jayda to the ice cream store and let her eat frozen yogurt with rainbow sprinkles for dinner just because she did something that deserved a treat and I wanted her to know it. I’ve also suddenly stripped off my clothes and joined Jayda in her evening bath because she was having so much fun splashing around, and I knew she wanted me to play with her, too.

But those unplanned events weren’t very important in the grand scheme of things. Their outcomes didn’t affect our entire lifestyles, and I never gave a second thought to any of them. Alternately, life’s major decisions should be well-planned out—at least for a planner like me. But maybe the best I can do for us right now is plan how I’m going to cope with having no plan. It might not be ideal, but it will make this chaotic, not-so-predictable life of ours a bit more enjoyable!