How Do You Measure A Man? by Maureen Eich VanWalleghan

It is not surprising how much men come up in the conversation of mothers. Wanting one, having one, getting rid of one, keeping one all seem to float around in the minds of women.

When I was single I thought a lot about men, the getting of one. Now I’m married and I have spent a fair amount of time thinking about getting rid of one. After six years of married I am finally settled into the difficult work of just staying married. I do love my husband and the best thing I have done so far is manage to stay married. Many times I imagined if I had had more economic security I would have left him pretty quick. After my daughter was born and I had sold my house and had the profits in the bank, on my drive to work I would think “I can keep on driving...I can do anything I want.” Then I would think about my daughter and wonder “do what...start over, find a new man?”

Being married is hard. In my opinion, nothing about it is that great for men or women. I often think that institutionally it is a shackle that both parties suffer under for a variety of reasons. What is the biological imperative for each sex? When looking at more “primitive cultures” both sexes seem more relaxed about their tasks. And isn’t life about tasks: the task of raising children; the task of providing for children.

So much of the language of modern women does a disservice in the area of marriage. “Are we growing together?” “Do we want the same things?” Questions I have finally thrown out the window. So many of my notions about relationships have been informed by a Hollywood vision complete with running sequence and cuddling in bed. Life is not a movie and light romantic comedy is as much a fairy tale as Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. The more one has incorporated the mythical notion about what love looks like, the more one will be unhappy in the context of marriage.

For me, the only question is: “Is this person committed to me?” Of course everyone wants a “committed relationship,” but what I mean by “committed” is: will the man I am married to put up with my s#$@. I have a lot of it. Most women do. Men are rather simple creatures. I don’t mean that in a bad way, but more as a statement of fact. There is not much subterfuge happening for men. They like sex, pleasure and often have a great need to please women. Women on the other hand are complicated hormonal beings that often wield their power recklessly because they don’t know how powerful they really are. My favorite moment in the movie Eat, Pray, Love is when Julia Robert’s character is talking about the issue of fat for women and she explains it doesn’t really matter because when men have a naked woman in their bed they think they’ve won the lottery. Anecdotally I can confirm this, as can most women.

So beyond the fluff of love, how does a woman measure commitment: by the size of a ring, by jewelry given, by flowers, by important moments remembered, by sensitivity, by affection, by any number of female markers? For me, none of that matters. I am finding that the only thing that really counts is this: is the man in the room and still standing after I have hit the rocket launchers and razed our relationship and him as well. Lucky for me, my husband has weathered this many times. To be fair he is no saint and can be a pain in the neck in biggest way and sometimes I really hate him, but I usually am the one with the rocket launcher.

The measure of a man, is just in staying for the fight. The most important thing I have done so far in my relationship is abandon my idea of what I thought a husband should do and actually looked closely at the man I was married to...not my fantasy “Mr. Right” that I carried around in my head as a measuring stick in my dating life. Now that I have invited “Mr. Right” to leave the building, I can see all the ongoing small things that my husband does that make up a very solid and stable life. When I look at this mosaic then I see what a great husband I have even though he doesn’t match my fantasy. In my movie there are no running scenes and try as I might to write in the bedtime cuddling it rarely happens, but my husband has great fire retardant armor, which he manages to put on just before I hit the rocket launchers...lucky for me.

"He's Just Not That Into You" - By Cara Potapshyn Meyers

I saw my divorce lawyer yesterday. It was a very long, two-hour meeting and I left there drained. I was even tearing up as I drove home, thinking, “I am actually getting a divorce.” It sort of hit me the way when a loved one dies, out of the blue, you get a pang in your heart and you immediately think, “OMG! I’m never going to see that person again!!” It’s all part of the grief process.

But what has been bothering me the most has been the lack of closure for my marriage. I have asked my husband umpteen times why he wants to divorce and the answer is always the same, “I don’t know.” That’s not good enough for me. That’s not good enough when you spend 21 close, intimate years with someone and are married to him for almost 16. That’s not good enough when there is a child involved and their entire life is going to be upended. That is just not a good enough answer just for the sake of being not a good enough answer considering the magnitude of this situation. But it’s the best I’m ever going to get from him.

Still, I need closure. I have been working with my therapists and even pleaded with one of them to pretend my spouse had died to help me get through the grief process! She thought I was a little off the wall, but she understood. I can’t get past the grief process without some type of closure. I’d take just about any reason at this point! An “I don’t know,” just doesn’t cut it for me...and never will.

So, driving from one of my therapy appointments the other day, it hit me. For those of you who (probably pre-children), had the luxury of watching television, and had HBO, and may have been a “Sex and the City” addict, like me, may recall the, “He’s just not that into you,” episode. To briefly summarize, there was an episode where one of the main characters, Miranda, overheard a conversation between two young women. The young women were discussing why a date hadn’t called back when he said he would. The women were dissecting every nuance of the date and the phone calls the couple had prior to the date. And the woman who’s date never called back just couldn’t understand why because there were no obvious signs or communication indicating that this date would never call again. So brazen Miranda, listening to this wisely, approached the young women, apologized for eavesdropping, and simply said, “Face it. This guy is just not into you.” Then Miranda politely excused herself while the young women, although stunned by the revelation, had to agree with Miranda. And to some extent, you could tell that the woman who’s date never called back, was somewhat relieved at this epiphany.

As I drove home, I recalled this episode, and like the young woman whose date never called back, I thought to myself, “Your husband is just not into you.” And all of a sudden, a wave of peace washed over me. Yes, it’s a lame reason to use for “closure” purposes, but it is, still and all, a reason. 

Since I have allowed myself this “closure” statement, I must admit, I do feel freer and more positive. As ridiculous as this statement is, and considering that this is a marriage that is ending and not just a date not calling anymore, I realize that the statement of, “He’s just not that into you,” is rather trite. But, for me, it is something. And trite or not, it is at least a step above, “I don’t know.” So, for now, I have found my reason for closure. Or perhaps, on a superficial level, have something to use as a tool to start healing again. Because up until now, I’ve just been harboring anger. Tons and tons of anger. Which is ruining my body and mind and is just plain unproductive at minimum.

“He’s just not that into you.”  Barely meaningful for my situation, but for now, at least it works. And at least I can begin to move on.

ROBIN'S SHOW REVIEW: Miss Abigail's Guide to Dating, Mating & Marriage

After a successful run at The David A. Straz, Jr. Center for the Performing Arts (formerly the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center), Ken Davenport is presenting the New York City premiere of Miss Abigail's Guide to Dating, Mating, & Marriage (http://www.missabigailsguide.com/). The open-ended engagement is playing Off-Bway at the Downstairs Cabaret Theater at Sofia’s (221 West 46th Street, next to the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre in NYC). Eve Plumb, TV’s famed Jan Brady, is making her New York theatrical debut in the lead role of Miss Abigail.

Written by Ken Davenport (Altar Boyz, My First Time, The Awesome 80s Prom) and Sarah Saltzberg (25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee), Miss Abigail's Guide to Dating, Mating, & Marriage is based on Abigail Grotke's popular book—the comedy’s namesake—that promises "classic advice for contemporary dilemmas." Davenport directs as Miss Abigail takes you back to a simpler time, before booty calls and speed-dating, back when the divorce rate wasn’t 50 percent and “Fidelity” was more than an investment firm.

It's the story of Miss Abigail, the most sought-after relationship expert to the stars—think Dr. Ruth meets Emily Post—and her sexy sidekick Paco, as they travel the globe teaching Miss Abigail’s  tongue 'n cheek (and sometime cheeky) “how-tos” on dating, mating and marriage.

During this nearly 90-minute comedy (no intermission), you’ll learn a thing or two . . . like how to have a perfect kiss (it’s all about lip position) . . . what you should and should not talk about on a date (don’t mention your troll doll collection) . . . and how to let a man think he wears the pants.

It makes for a fun afternoon or night out with girlfriends, and it's suitable for couples as well.  There's audience particpation, and a riotous short film on the subject of sex education.

Manuel Herrea, who plays Paco, provides sex appeal and considerable comic relief.

And, Ms. Plumb is in fine form....it was fun to see her morph into a dating expert.....from her days of Jan Brady.  She's come a long way and has aged well!

With the code FUNNYDATE, you may purchase $45 tickets (regular price: $75) to Miss Abigail's Guide To Dating, Mating, & Marriage.  Check out more about the show at: http://missabigailsguide.com/



Eve Plumb & Manuel Herrera

GUEST BLOG POST: Halfway to Each Other: How a Year in Italy Brought Our Family Together by Susan Pohlman

Like many couples, my husband, Tim, and I could not wait to have children. Though it was not something we rushed into, we were not prepared to navigate the uneven terrain of the emotional landscape of family life. Following every cultural norm as our guide, we found the perfect house, landed the perfect job, and sent our over-scheduled children to the perfect schools. We never imagined, even for a minute, that this formula would bring us everything but real happiness.

In May of 2003, on a business trip to Italy, we took a break from entertaining clients and walked along the Ligurian sea where Christopher Columbus had learned to sail as a boy. The elegant beauty of Santa Margherita lulled us into silence as we ambled along, lost in our own thoughts. We had been married sixteen years, had two beautiful children, and a cozy home on the outskirts of Los Angeles.

From the outside, our lives were idyllic, but on the inside we were painfully disconnected and confused. Neither one of us could figure out why we were so miserable, but we both agreed that we were tired of trying. I knew that our days were numbered since I had quietly hired a lawyer prior to our trip. What I did not know was that a mere five minutes in the future Tim would utter the phrase that would change our lives forever. He stopped, asked me to move my empty gaze from the blue of the sea to the blue of his tear filled eyes and said, “I could live here.”

These four simple words began an unexpected, heart wrenching, two day conversation that ultimately ended with our signatures on a year’s lease to an apartment in Genoa-Nervi and Tim’s resignation from his job. We made an unexpected decision to sell our house and move our two children, ages 11 and 15, to Italy. It was irrational, ridiculous, reckless and the best decision of our lives. It saved our marriage and our family.

By embracing adventure and drastically simplifying our lifestyle we realized that over planning our days had stifled the excitement of discovery. Dawn to midnight schedules extinguished any possibility of happenstance. Letting go of shoulds and musts and adopting an attitude of “let’s see where this takes us” allowed for the rebirth of enchantment and delight, two important elements that feed one’s soul. Adventure became a surprisingly powerful and restorative way of life. It forced us to live in the moment and be present for each other.

Halfway to Each Other, the story of our year, began as a series of emails to trusted girl friends who insisted that I share with them the moments along the way. (Truth be told, they were worried about my sanity!) It evolved into a manuscript when a writer suggested that I consider sharing, in a broader way, the powerful life lessons that brought our family joy and renewal at a time when we felt hopeless.

Though our story is extreme, couples do not have to relocate in order to foster a stronger sense of unity. The challenge is to make the commitment to remain aware of the hidden downfalls of living in a culture with so many wonderful choices. Though most of the things that fill our lives can be argued as good in and of themselves, too much is still too much.

Points to Consider:

• Give yourself the permission to step out of the norm and do what is best for your family to maintain balance and emotional health. It is the “doing” together rather than the “owning” together that creates family culture and a treasure box of memories.

• Slow down to recognize the times that matter. Relationships strengthen or weaken in small moments. Be present.

• Embrace adventure in the everyday. Adventure is simply stepping out of your routine: a picnic dinner on the back lawn, a surprise trip to the movies on a school night, a cup of hot tea on a cold night under the stars. One does not have to travel the world to experience delight.

• Simplify life to allow time for rest and to create the emotional space needed to interact in meaningful ways.

• Stop planning and controlling every moment of the day. Leave room for happenstance. And as the Italians so aptly taught us: what’s your big hurry? There is always tomorrow. Domani. Take a deep breath and relax already!

Susan Pohlman is an educator and freelance writer. She lives in Scottsdale, Arizona with her husband and two children. Her essays have been published in The Washington Times, Family Digest, The Family, Raising Arizona Kids, Guideposts Magazine, HomeLife Magazine, AZParenting, and Italiannotebook.com. She has written three award-winning short films.

Halfway to Each Other is her first book, and it was awarded WINNER in the Relationships category at The 2010 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. Visit http://www.susanpohlman.com/.

The Saddest Day - by Cara

I made probably the most difficult decision of my entire life recently. To end my marriage. Making this decision was so difficult that the only situation I can compare it to would be having a loved one in the hospital and having to be the one to make the decision to have them taken off life support. This decision was immensely heart wrenching, but it had to be done.

My husband is looking for the least expensive way to end our marriage and provide support. Because I have to look out for the needs of both my son as well as myself, I couldn’t afford to go the least expensive route. I chose to go through the much more grueling, difficult way. But it had to be done for the sake of my son and myself.

I also had to do it because my husband and I don’t have any semblance of life together anymore. And I grieve and hurt over this just about every single day. I have tried so hard to keep our family intact. My husband, however, keeps pulling farther and farther away. He has absolutely no interest in rectifying our marriage or family.

My own health has deteriorated significantly as well. I’ve lost 60 pounds due to stress induced irritable bowel syndrome. I can hardly eat liquids at this point and keep them in my digestive tract. My doctors have had to increase my anti-anxiety meds to a point where I think my brain is going to implode. I am weak, often dehydrated, often dizzy, and almost always nauseous. My body cannot afford to go on like this. Especially crying myself to sleep every night. I had to “pull the plug.” For the sake of my own health.

My biggest fear, besides my health, is my son. He will be devastated. And I am sure that this will impact his schooling. Since my husband is hardly around anyway, I constantly reassure my son that I will always be here for him. And I will never leave him, no matter what. He will forever be my number one priority. As it is now, we have established our own comfortable routine together. At least that will remain consistent for him.

The most difficult part of all will be telling our son that Mommy and Daddy will no longer be living together. I’ve been reading up on how to tell a young child that his parents will be divorcing. The most important emphasis from everything I’ve read is that both parents need to remain calm and unemotional when discussing a divorce with a child. I absolutely don’t think I can do it. I get teary-eyed just thinking of telling our son. But I want to hear what my husband says to our son, so I have to be present. I’m just going to have to take a few xanaxes before we sit down with him and try to hold back the tears. I honestly don’t know how I am going to get through it.

My husband and I had a child because we wanted to share the love we had for each other exponentially towards our child. The love for our child hasn’t changed, but I still continue to wonder where the love my husband and I had for each other went. And I still don’t understand how you can know a person intimately for 20 years and be married for 15 years, and have that love dissipate practically overnight. I guess I never will know the answer.

All I ever wanted was a happy little family who enjoyed spending time with one another and enjoying life’s experiences together. From last week’s blog, you could tell that I experienced my son’s first camping trip second hand, through texts and photos sent from my husband. And when my son and I leave for the Bahamas tomorrow, my husband will have to live our cruise experience, along with a stop at Disney on the way back, through scattered phone calls and shared photos. It is so utterly sad.

When my husband received the divorce letter, he was visibly shaken and shocked. Since then, however, he has failed to discuss it. All he said about the letter was, “I don’t know what to say.” I thought to myself, “For an intelligent man, you don’t seem to know much about anything concerning our relationship.” He is acting more and more like a bachelor, is giving up more and more time that he could be spending with his son, instead choosing to spend it with his friends or doing a physical activity. It is beyond sad. For my birthday, he gave me a gift, “from my son,” which was completely self-serving and did not take my son nor I into consideration at all. He had a bike race to go to this past Saturday with a barbecue to go to afterwards. He gave me tickets to go to see the play, The Lion King, at a theater in New York City. He specifically chose the day of his bike race as the date for the tickets, so that my son and I would be occupied. Firstly, my son hates the Lion King movie. I have offered to watch it with him over the years, and as soon as it starts, my son starts screaming, “Turn it off! Turn it off!” Why would I take my son to a play when he won’t even watch the movie it is based on!! Secondly, knowing my son would not like the play; he would be asking to leave every 15 minutes. And with his ADD, he would not be able to sit for that length of time anyway. It would be a horrible, aggravating, miserable experience for both of us. So I gave the tickets away. And my son and I spent a quiet, relaxing, productive day at home. I think we both much preferred that.

My husband’s attorney has up to 60 days to respond to my letter, so we shall see how long he puts off responding to it. In the meantime, I am learning a crash course in how to be a single parent, taking care of a high maintenance child and two high maintenance dogs. I’m not doing the greatest job, so far. But as they say, with practice makes perfect, which I don’t expect to aspire to! I think “staying afloat” is a much more reasonable goal for right now! Time will only tell...

Appalachian Trail - by Cyma

The guiding principle of outdoor ethics for environmentalists, hikers, campers and outdoors-people is “leave no trace.” It refers to methods intended to leave a natural habitat and its surroundings in the same state as it was found.

For many years, I could apply this principle to our marriage. Despite years of our union, I was always feeling left in the same state as I was the day before I met my husband.

The benchmark for this dilemma became his annual Appalachian Trail treks –yearly expeditions to various Eastern states which would leave me, and eventually me and our children, alone. The sheer disengagement that occurred each year, the first time being the first year we met, sent us immediately into counseling. How could he leave someone he loved so easily? The intention of completing the nearly 2,200 mile trail, from Maine to Georgia, had been his most pressing goal in life. It still is. For a long, long time, it superseded even getting or having me. Nothing would get in the way of his hikes.

The months of training to get into shape; his ongoing planning, mapping and purchasing of all the necessary equipment and food; and the sheer delight he took in knowing that this blessed event was forthcoming overshadowed much in our real life, most especially me. He said that this experience gave him a total physical challenge, and a mental cleansing that he could not find anywhere else. He also said that the experience of survival sharpens ones’ skills and reminds him of what’s important. I can honestly say that I felt the very same way during his absence, and would rehash the knowledge of this just before he arrived back home.

This year, he’s traveling during the middle of July, and again in September. Completion of these remaining passages, nearly 800 miles from home, will ensure that he will finish the entire trail at Mount Katahdin (in Maine) next year. At that point, he will be accompanied by my stepson who will travel 1,000 miles to complete this with his father, a symbolic passage of rights, since he is now interested in undertaking a similar course.

Each year, I grapple with the fact that I’ve been left. Plain and simple. It doesn’t matter that I understand his interest (I do, since I’ve hiked some of it, too); cheer on his magnificent drive to complete the Trail (I also do) or compassionately know and understand the necessity to return to nature as much as possible to recharge, revitalize and revisit one’s life. To stand alone within nature, without a cell phone, Blackberry or computer is to rewind all those internal tapes, all the noise and all the daily obligations and responsibilities, and just live. I know this. It’s just the ‘alone’ part that I have not been able to understand.

You know the ‘Life Is Good’ shirts with the logo of the solitary backpacker on the front? That’s really my husband. The one with the dog next to him is purely symbolic. He hates to travel in a group.

Which brings me back to his hike. This year, I’m determined to live this differently. Perhaps the years have softened me; perhaps the knowledge that he’s nearly completed the Trail has given me more juice to continue this process. For once, I’m realizing that his flight away from us isn’t about me, or us, but really about him -- his desires, his achievements, and his limitations. I want this new perspective to have a real impact on me this year – one which will empower me and not leave me feeling so alone. And, I want to recharge and renew like he does. I just don’t want him to leave me with no trace left behind.

Memorial Day (ode to my marriage) - by Cyma

Memorial Day usually means parades and barbeques, a chance to have ‘family time,’ the beginning of summer. On this weekend 14 years ago, I got married – a lifetime ago if we count all the experiences, life changes and myriad of adjustments that have taken place. During that time, I also turned 50.

I routinely use this weekend to assess my marriage. There were several years where I was just plain unhappy; one or two when I was in neutral; a few where I was in lust and still more where I was enraged.

I remember an old friend commenting that she no longer exchanges anniversary cards or presents. She also does not wear her wedding ring. I have never not exchanged gifts; however, last year, I went several weeks without wearing my ring. The incident was intended to convey a strong message and to test the waters -- to see how it would feel, and how others would feel about me. It felt equally liberating and sad. I eventually put my ring back on – a testament to my husband’s commitment to regroup and get help. I have not taken it off, since.

I have never understood the ins and outs of relationships. For me, I was either ‘in’ or ‘out.’ I think that marriage allows you many options – to stay ‘in’ while being ‘out;’ to stay ‘out’ while being ‘in;’ to think about being ‘out’ while being ‘in.’ You know what I mean. The list of options goes on and on.

I got married because I decided I would. I decided that this would be the last personal ad I would write, the last boyfriend I would date. I decided on that first blind date that I would marry him. I found out later that he decided the same. Just before I got married, I had a brief moment of realization that I would never kiss anyone else again. I was panic-stricken. It was fleeting.

Growing up watching my parents, I had a very hard act to follow – they are definitely soul mates. My husband and I are not. For a long time, I felt very sad about it. I can’t say that I’ve ever given up longing for this, but I can say that I’m more comfortable, now, not having it.

In recent months, I sense an ease between us: an almost second coming. I feel like we’re on a new plane with new rules and regulations. I think we like each other again; we’re working on the love part. I wish it came easier. But, we came into this with our own deep emotional issues and more than enough baggage. It’s taken all this time to even land in neutral; to not be fired up with every discussion or chaotic incident which had befallen us. Now, I feel a sense of hope, of renewal, of strength. I also feel a sense of purpose, of acceptance, and even of love.

At this stage in life/marriage, many people choose to go their separate ways. I think that this has taught me that it is also possible to regroup and come together again in a better, more solid way. I wasn’t used to the nuances. Remember, either ‘in’ or ‘out.’

I don’t think that I’ll think as much about my marriage this Memorial Day. This is a testament to our recently reaffirmed bond and commitment. However, I do think I will, as I always do, memorialize the day and the year. Happy Anniversary, dear.

The Loss of "Fishy" -- by Cara

Fishy died today. He had been struggling off and on for a few months with a disease we just couldn’t seem to pinpoint. Now he is gone, and I am the one feeling the loss.

My son got Fishy, a blue Betta fish, as a birthday party favor (don’t ask...that’s a whole different blog), almost a year ago. He was a happy little fish, in his own tank, swimming around and enjoying the interaction with my son. Soon, as winter approached, our upstairs became drafty and cold. I noticed that Fishy would hide in the bottom of the tank, in a corner. I bought a Betta care book which clearly stated that Bettas like to be in warm water and warm environments. I ran out and bought Fishy a tank heater.

Fishy didn’t seem to take to the tank heater at all. Maybe it frightened him. But Fishy stopped eating. I took the heater out of Fishy’s tank and put the tank on the floor, right up against the radiator. At the same time, we bought a red Betta fish (which my son named, “Red”), and another tank, and put Red right next to Fishy, against the radiator, on the floor. Red was the best thing to happen to Fishy! Fishy would watch Red with his beautiful display of long, flowing fins, and it motivated Fishy! Fishy began to eat again and swim over to watch Red! We were so happy! We thought the problem was solved!

Then over the past few weeks, Fishy stopped eating again. We changed his water weekly. I went out and bought the entire variety of Betta fish food the pet store offered. Red would see me coming with all of the containers of food and start giving me a full body wag! Fishy wouldn’t try anything. A couple weeks went by and Fishy hadn’t eaten. He would just hide in the corner of his tank.

Then, this past week, we decided to get Fishy a larger tank with a filter. We let the water with water conditioner in it sit out for 24 hours. We rinsed off the gravel and plants before they went into the tank. Then we put in Fishy. Everything went downhill from there, day by day. Fishy would hide behind the filter and get “caught.” Then I noticed that his skin was sloughing off on his back. This poor fish was sick. I had to try to save it.

Monday morning I went to the fish store in my pajamas (not kidding!). I brought Fishy with me in a container wrapped in a towel. The manager took one look at Fishy and said he doubted that Fishy would “make it,” but gave me some medicine to try with Fishy anyway.

I raced home, put the medicine in the tank, then put Fishy back in, and waited. I checked on Fishy just about every hour. He looked worse. I hoped another day of medicine might help Fishy a little. Fishy only looked and acted even worse. I put Red next to Fishy. Fishy didn’t respond. Red seemed disappointed.

Finally, today, I discovered Fishy lifeless and floating at the top of the tank. My heart sank. Not only did I feel disappointed that I couldn’t “save” my son’s fish. I felt as if just about everything in my life was dying. And here I was struggling to save this poor fish. I couldn’t even do that. I seem to be trying aimlessly to save a lot of things in my life; my marriage, my family, my son’s fish. And the disappointment is mounting because the reality is that I don’t have full control of any of these things right now. I wanted desperately to be at least Fishy’s savior. But I couldn’t even be that. We will most likely replace Fishy with another fish. I wish it were that easy when it comes to a marriage.

GUEST BLOG POST -- by Sally Shields, "The In-Law Expert"

I got married in December 1999 when I was 32, and the first thing my new MIL (mother-in-law) said to me was, "The only thing I want is grandchildren! I'm the ONLY person in Ohio without grandchildren!" Well, if THAT didn't put the pressure on, I don't know what did! But, of course, I have a stubborn nature, and the declaration just made me want to wait even longer before procreating. I told both my MIL (as well as my very own mother who was being a little less obvious) in no uncertain terms, "Don't bother me until I'm 38!" After-all, I was in the midst of a great career as a jazz pianist, traveling the world, and having a wonderful time with my bass player husband!

But, soon after, 9/11 came along... it was a three-prong blow... my manager was going through a divorce and got fired by the representing agency. At the same time, the jazz division of the record label I was recording for folded, and the last recording of the 3-CD deal? Defunct. The world in NYC was in shambles, and moving forward as a self-promoting artist seemed both trivial and trite. All signs were pointing towards a change. It was 2001, and I was 34. I thought to myself, "What is the most meaningful thing I can do at this point?" I decided that getting pregnant was a good move, and as a side benefit, I could win points with my MIL! And yes, it was the greatest decision I could have made.

But shortly after my daughter's birth in 2002, the problems started to occur. Big problems, big misunderstandings. Big hurtful fights that ended in tears, with my MIL storming out of the house, thinking that I didn't care about her, or the baby clothes she bought, or anything she had to say. You see, even though I just had a C-section, was suffering from post-partum depression and sleep depravation, I had unwittingly failed to open the bag of infant onsies and cute baby gear that was still sitting unopened in the corner of the room, and my MIL took it as a big DIS. My dear MIL assumed that I knew these things that were so obvious to her... dressing the newborn immediately with her gifts, being concerned about cats smothering a new baby (we had 2), when to put oatmeal in the bottle ( I breast-fed), the importance of a sleeping schedule in a crib (I slept with my baby on demand), and a world of other things she was putting her two cents in about, that left us both in tears, and feeling like enemies on a battlefield!

I was left scratching my head, thinking, where is the manual for this?!!! So I started to jot down all the troublesome incidents that would pop into my head in regards to my MIL, and came up with a rule and a solution to deal with each and every one. When I put a few of these rules into practice (and saw that they actually worked), I thought maybe I could help save others years of needless contention!

By the time I had my son at age 39, I developed a few tricks up my sleeve. I'd like to share some questions I've received from readers of my book, The Daughter-in-Law Rules, and the answers may prove helpful:

Q: My baby is only a week old but my MIL already wants her to have a sibling to play with! Is she nuts?

A: If your twinkle toes has yet to shed her umbilical cord, your mother-in-law may nonetheless put in an application for a new addition by way of a statement such as, “I can’t wait until she has a little brother or sister to play with!” Say how eager you are to have another. Smile coyly and mention that you’re already working on it. She will be hard-pressed not to picture you and her son having relations (don’t think of a pink elephant, okay?) and she will most likely not ask you again... at least for the next couple of months, that is!

Q: My MIL complains that she doesn’t get as much time with my kids as my own mother. Well, that might be true, but what can I do? She lives 7 hours away!

A: As soon as your kid is able to carry on a “conversation,” dial up your MIL and let the two yak away. Do this every few days. When it’s time to hang up, if you are busy, quickly say how much the little one misses her and that you can’t wait to see her as well. She’ll be very happy to stay connected with your little ones, even if it’s through the phone.

Q: I spend hours taking home videos and even learned to send digital pictures to my MIL over the Internet. But she complained that she’s the only person in Ohio that doesn’t get professional shots to hand out to her friends at Bingo. I just can’t win!

A: Spring for professional shots of your child. Make lots of copies (especially ones with the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, or a Hanukkah Dreidel, and send your MIL several wallet sizes to use like trading cards with her Bingo buds. Mom truly enjoys seeing your bloom in bunny ears with a blue background, holding a giant carrot. And so will you! You may even get bamboozled into buying every image in the book, complete with Sepia hues, flower borders and glam shots with soft-focus feature. So be extra-prepared to whip out your credit card and make sure your package includes the CD-ROM so that you can replicate all of the above on your printer at home as well!


Q: I have fun doing art projects with my kids, and thought my MIL would appreciate the fact that I saved them for her. But she just threw them away. What’s up with THAT?!

A: Pick out some recent drawings or finger paintings, and dispatch them to your MIL. However, do not present her with anything that includes traces of your creative input or she may refuse it immediately. For example, if your child’s compositions end up resembling things such as puppies or frogs, you may feel compelled to color them in, embellish, and label them as such. Instead, provide Mom with the scribbles alone. These are the ones that will invariably end up framed at her house. “Ahhh, now that’s TALENT!” she’ll proclaim proudly.

Q: When I’m visiting my MIL, all she wants to do is feed my child JUNK. I can’t stand it. But if I say anything, we end up in a big fight, or giving each other the silent treatment. HELP!

A: If you notice your MIL bestowing Wonder Bread with butter on your little bottomless pit a few times a day, just remember that your husband eventually grew up and seems to be in relatively good health. Although you may feel frustrated and be compelled to suggest, “I would prefer if you didn’t feed her that stuff at every meal, okay?” better to let your MIL indulge your child’s requests for the nutritionally devoid foodstuffs. Otherwise, your kid will soon come crying, “Grammy said that you said that I can't have white bread with butter ANYMORE!” forcing you to relent sheepishly, “Well, she can have it at least once a day, I guess the stuff won’t kill her!” Don't make a federal issue out of it, as your pipsqueak will eventually be back to eating apples and whole wheat bagels upon Mom’s departure!

In Conclusion:

The bottom line is to really and truly learn to appreciate your MIL. After all, she did give birth to your husband, and you are forever thankful to her for that! We can all grow much closer to our MIL's through our children!

I leave you with this wish: that you may develop a respectful and loving relationship with your MIL and learn to appreciate her for who she is, where she came from and what she is to become. Take heed to one of the great spiritual laws of success: The quickest way to get what you want is to help others get what they want. Be a loving, kind, generous, open-hearted, sensitive person, and the world will reflect that back to you—even in the form of your mother-in-law—and she may just surprise you and turn out to be an ally and a friend. Mine certainly did!

Please visit Sally “The In-Law Expert” Shields, a later mom, speaker and author of The Daughter-in-Law Rules on the web at www.TheDILRules.com for contest giveaways, free bonus gifts,The DIL Rules newsletter, free music … and more!

The Day Camp Dilemma -- by Cara Meyers

One would think, especially a Mom, that day camp for their grade school age child would be easy street on roller blades. First off, your child is out of the home for at least an amount of time equivalent to a full day of school, if not more. Secondly, the day camp experience certainly will wear your child out, what with swimming, sports-type games and general play activities. Then how come some Moms come to dread the end of the day from camp?

Could it be that the damp backpack must first be unloaded, even though you provided your child with ample gallon-size plastic bags and plastic grocery bags to but their wet things in? The bags are usually at the bottom of said wet backpack with ignored sunscreen.

Then there is the precious camp t-shirt. That ONE t-shirt. That must be clean. And dry. Each day of camp. Which means, of course, one of two things: If the t-shirt does not have any visible stains, you can always get away with trying to just hang it up, hoping it dries sufficiently by morning. Or, as is in my case, because I have a boy, and boys are, um, dirty, you must wash the t-shirt each evening. And why wash just one t-shirt when you can throw in the bathing suits, towel, and other miscellaneous laundry lying around that happen to be the same color. So now we are doing laundry at least 5 nights a week.

Next there is the preparation of getting the following day’s camp wear assembled for the next day. Does the following day start with swimming, which would require having your child wear his swim wear to camp while packing dry shorts and the camp t-shirt to change into later on? Or will there be sports activities, necessitating the wearing of shorts and camp t-shirt, while the packing of swim wear for the afternoon instead. And don’t ever forget to pack the water shoes! A mother always knows to have at least two pair, so that while one dries out, the other can be packed for the following day. The same usually goes with sneakers. If one pair gets wet, you have the spare set.

So, obviously, paying attention to the daily camp schedule is of utmost importance. As are the daily activities themselves. Is it “Tie-dye Day?” Then a clean, previously washed white t-shirt will need to be packed. Is it pizza day? Then your child will need to bring in $7. And what if all you have in your wallet are $10s and $20s? Will you be able to get change back? Will you have to send in a $5 you found in your husband’s back pocket and some quarters?

And if it is not pizza day, there is the dreaded packing of a cold lunch that must withstand the heat of a summer day. One counselor suggested freezing a bottle of water to keep the contents of the lunch tote cold. Well, that idea turned my son’s lunch into a complete soggy mess, even with every item sealed in plastic bags. The water also didn’t defrost fast enough, so my son got a couple sips from the bottle and left it in the tote to melt the rest of the day. I had to pour out the contents of the tote over the sink. It was flooded.

So why is it that we Moms look forward to summer and the day camp experience for our children? The only reasonable reason I seem to have been able to come up with?
No homework.


Next Week: My husband has decided to take the Day Camp Dilemma challenge and see whether he can do a better job at preparing my son for Day Camp each day. The results will be the topic of next week’s blog.

INTRODUCING JAMIE LEVINE, NEW MOM BLOGGER FOR MOTHERHOODLATER.COM

A Single Mother by Choice (Sort of…) -- by Jamie Levine

I’m a single mother by choice. Though “by choice” isn’t quite an accurate description of my lifestyle. Yes, I chose to have a child on my own. But I didn’t exactly choose to raise a child without a husband by my side. Circumstances steered me that way.

My parents have been married for over 50 years. My dad is a great father, husband, and simply, a mensch: A caring, generous, affectionate, thoughtful guy—the kind of man I’d like to marry. And the type of guy I always pictured fathering my child(ren). However, after years and years (and years!) of serial dating, all I ever seemed to meet was Mr. Wrong: Commitmentphobes whom I tried (unsuccessfully!) to reform, commitment-minded men who bored me to tears, and even men who were good fathers already. (As in…they were finished having children.) I never found my own Mr. Right. So, as I grew older, I decided to take action…and, at the age of 36, I “chose” to begin my path to single-mom-hood. I decided to do things backwards: Become a mom first and a wife second. Since I do still hope to be married someday.

“Choosing” to be a single mother does have its perks. I don’t ever have to fight with anyone about child-rearing issues. Heck, even my daughter’s name was all my idea—and I didn’t need to run it by anyone else. I also don’t have to worry about taking care of anyone but Jayda and myself. There’s no one else to make dinner for, do laundry for, or clean up after. (And no one else to apologize to about my messes…or my lousy dinners!) Finally, when I do meet a man whom I want to date, he doesn’t have to worry about my “unresolved issues” with my ex—or any contact we might have as a result of sharing time with my daughter. There is no ex.

But of course, there’s also no doting dad for my little girl to look up to. And while a part of me is saddened when I think of Jayda growing up without a father like I had, I know she’s more loved than a lot of kids. She’s also fortunate to have other wonderful men in her life who adore her—uncles, friends, neighbors, and most importantly, my father. And for now, that’s enough.

Jamie Levine is an accomplished children’s book/gift buyer and online marketer, as well as a certified life coach. Currently, she is a freelance writer and consultant, as a means to spend more time with her greatest gift—her 26-month-old daughter, Jayda. Jamie hopes to find a way to permanently work without much commuting before she turns 40 in February! She and Jayda live on Long Island, NY.