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!

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?

Spring Break Vacation -- by Robin

I survived. And, more than that, we thrived.

If you read my earlier blog, you may recall that it was with trepeditation, yet hopefulness, that I traveled for the first time alone with my son. Marc, my husband, couldn't get away due to tax season.

We went to visit a friend in Asheville, North Carolina, and from the moment the trip started, it was as if it was tailor made. The universe had a plan, and both Seth and I had a great, if not tiring, time. It made me feel good as a mom to know I was capable of 24-7 parenting on my own, though having support from my friend who is a wise, nurturing grandma and former guidance school professional gave me an extra shot of confidence.

We flew Delta from NY...the only non stop flight we could find. It was a small plane you boarded from the runway, a new experience for Seth. On the plane, he had the opportunity to enter the cockpit and meet the captain and co-pilot and pose for photos. And, the fact that it was a short flight was a bonus for an energized kid.

My friend, Michele, met us at the airport and we drove straight to Hendersonville, a nearby town. Bringing back memories of my trips to Woodstock, NY, I enjoyed strolling the streets and perusing the various shops both in town and along the way. (Honeysuckle Hollow was a favorite.)

I was just so glad to be somewhere else. Life had been feeling particularly stressful of late, and I needed a break big time. From the moment we exited the plane, my body started to relaxed.

At my friend's suggestion, we checked into the Renaissance Hotel in Asheville, and it was a good choice. The location offered an easy walk to town, and Seth enjoyed the indoor pool, room service, and mountain view from our window. The staff was friendly and accomodating. The first night was particularly eventful, and one that Seth will never forget. The smoke alarm went off in the hotel, and at 10pm we had to walk down 8 flights of stairs and evacuate the building. Turned out there was a small electrical fire in a supply closet on the second floor, and once the fire trucks came, it was readily extinguished. Seth was in all his glory. It was as if we were on a movie set. Nothing gets him more excited than seeing fire trucks or firemen, and he got to pose for photos with the firemen and to first hand see them answer a call.

The next day we took a Gray Line Trolley Tour of Asheville. It gave us a helpful lay of the land downtown and beyond, and the driver/tour guide narrated as we drove along. It's a convenient way of getting around, as you can get on 'n off, since Asheville isn't a town where you can just hail a cab on a street corner. (A big change of pace for us New Yorkers.)

The following day, and a highlight of the trip for Seth, was our excursion to Franklin where we went mining at Mason Mountain Mine. There you can purchase buckets of dirt at varying sizes/prices that are stocked with gems and minerals, and you sift through the dirt with water to discover the buried treasures. Mason's gem expert Sandy will happily weed through your findings and let you know what is most of value. If you like, you may pay extra to have your stones cut, polished and made into a finished piece of jewelry. We didn't go that far, but we carted home four weighty bags of raw sapphires, emeralds, quartz, rubys, etc. Seth can't wait to do it again one day.

We had delicious BBQ food one night at the rousing Fiddlin' Pig, and it was a total hoot. We lucked out and got a table front 'n center by the bluegrass band, and clog dancers performed as well. It's very family friendly, affordable and great fun.

We shopped at Biltmore Village at the wonderful New Morning Gallery. If you are a fan of arts and fine handmade crafts, decorative accessories and furniture, this is the place for you, as is Asheville in general. The town is strewn with galleries featuring everything from pottery to jewelry.

On Easter Sunday, we visited Biltmore, America's largest house. It features 250 rooms of arts and antiques at George W. Vanderbilt's historic property. They host year round events, and Seth participated in an Easter egg hunt, we toured the spectacular house, tasted Zinfandel and more at the Biltmore Winery, held and pet baby chicks and other animals, etc. You can also eat and shop there, sleep at the Inn, ride a Land Rover, take a carriage ride, hike, float on a raft or kayak, etc., etc. The activities are endless. And, it's nice just to chill and take in the grandeur of it all, including the gardens.

Downtown Asheville, Seth enjoyed visiting The Health Adventure at the Pack Place Education, Arts & Science Center. They currently feature exhibits/play areas with Clifford The Big Red Dog. While well done, Seth was more interested in the supermarket section and taking a stab at the many mindbending puzzles featured on the second floor. It's a particularly good place to visit with very young children, and comfortable for parents.

On our last day, we took a cab ride to Black Mountain with the new Black Mountain Cab Company, and had a delightful conversation with Kim, one of the owners/drivers. She was good company and recommended a great dinner spot, Ole's Guacamoles (great tilapia) . Kim's taxi company also offers the lowest prices for a cab ride to the airport from downtown, and they plan to offer excursions/day trips to cool places in and around Asheville, so check them out. For general information about Black Mountain, another nice small town to explore, visit http://www.visitblackmountain.com. It's about 20 minutes from Asheville.

Seth and I had such a nice time away (some special mommy-son bonding time), that we wound up staying an extra night. The weather couldn't have been better. I got in some quality shopping. Spent time with a good girlfriend, who also made dinner for us one night at her home on the moutain. (I could see why she moved there from New York.) We drove on the Blue Ridge Parkway and took in the views. We could have stayed even longer, and I know we'll return. Seth said he wants to live there. We'll see what the future brings. Next trip we'll pack his hiking shoes and go from there.

The Athlete Within -- by Liimu

Most of us, during the late pregnancy and early parenthood, voraciously search for all the information we can find about the ways in which becoming a mother will change our lives. Friends and family members share their memories of sleepless nights and mornings spent scrounging through the closets looking for something that’s reasonably wrinkle-free, fits, and isn’t stained with spit up or something worse. Websites like Babyfit, Babycenter, Parenting and iVillage are bursting with helpful tips and advice. What should I pack in my hospital bag? What will I need for the nursery? How can I ensure breastfeeding success? What are my options if I’m not successful? And probably the most asked question of all, When will I lose the baby weight?

What I learned as a new mom is that answering these questions doesn’t even scratch the surface of the real issues I faced after the baby came. I have friends who lost their baby weight before they even returned from maternity leave (though I have many more friends, thank God, who – like me – are still struggling with the last 20 pounds, three years later). Even for those lucky few who did find the number on the scale settling right back to where it had been nine months earlier when the stick first showed two lines, there was an unpleasant surprise in store. Their original weight had been redistributed in new and unsightly ways! What was this new pooch poking out over my waistband? Who invited those big bumps on the sides of my thighs? What’s up with my feet being a half size larger? And don’t get me started on the boobs. Bigger, flatter, droopier, leakier, there seems to be no end to the ways in which that region has turned on us and become an unrecognizable version of what was for some of us our once most prized assets.

I realized after the birth of my second child that although I did everything “right” according to the websites and physicians, and had another beautiful, healthy girl as a result, I still felt betrayed by my body after the dust settled. I had been through an emotionally draining, physically exhausting experience that left my body permanently transformed. I had also seen for the second time that my body could do amazing things – for the second time in less than 18 months, I had endured more than 30 hours of excruciating labor and produced new life. Could I perhaps undertake another, similarly redefining experience and transform yet again? I could, and I would. I began to focus on redefining myself as an athlete, and to challenge my body to do what it could, rather than weigh what it could. In January of 2005, I set a personal goal of running a 10K race. I scoured the internet for information about running with the same unbridled enthusiasm I had when I’d been researching pregnancy. I found online running plans, the best running trails, and found online communities and support. By the end of the year, I had run a marathon. I was a runner. Soon after completing it, I became the leader of the Philadelphia Chapter of Moms in Motion, helping other moms to achieve their fitness goals and redefine themselves as athletes.

Whether your inclination is to swim, walk, bike or run, there are tons of reasons to find your inner athlete. And who knows? Maybe by finding your inner athlete you can help those around you have the courage to go on a quest for their own athlete within. When I first started running, my five-year old daughter used to ask, “Mommy, why do you go running?” Now she asks, “Mommy, can I go with you next time?” And this year, my answer is yes! My 7-year old daughter is currently training to complete her very first 5K, and I will be cheering her on every step of 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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Won't You Be My Baby? by Jamie Levine

Although I’m almost 40 years old, I will always be my mother’s “baby.” So, of course, I often look at my 28-month-old toddler, and still think of her as the helpless little infant she once was. But, as Jayda constantly reminds me, herself—when she pees in the potty or swings from monkey bars—“Jayda, big girl now!” In fact, she’s so ”grown up” that when she sees a smaller child in a stroller (a vehicle she, herself, shunned long before the age of two), she calls him or her “a baby”—even if she’s only mere months older. And the smaller the child, the more enamored she becomes, and the more she wants to help take care of the “baby.”

I know all the babies at Jayda’s day care by name—from the infants to the 18-month-olds—because Jayda insists on visiting them all in the morning before she goes to her classroom, and, again, in the afternoon, before we go home. When we visit my friend who has a daughter Jayda’s age, as well as an almost-one-year-old, Jayda generally shows more interest in the baby than in her contemporary. And, when we go to the playground, Jayda always stops her climbing and jumping and swinging as soon as she sees a stroller glide by. She’ll run over and peer inside, and refuse to do anything else but stand and watch the baby.

At home, it’s the same story; Jayda has an arsenal of toy babies whom she dotes on, night and day. There’s “little baby,” her very first doll, which I let her pick out from a shelf full of options at a toy store (and who happens to be African American), and “big baby,” a giggling, bottle-sucking doll that was a birthday present from a friend. There are also countless other dolls and stuffed animals whom she calls her babies, all of whom get fed and cuddled and dressed by Jayda with care.

Both friends, as well as strangers who have observed Jayda’s behavior, have joked that I “need to give Jayda a baby sister or brother.” And, I do believe Jayda would be a wonderful big sis. But I don’t have the desire—or the resources—to have another child. Being Jayda’s mom is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life…but I don’t feel the urge to do it again. No other child could be a more perfect match for me than Jayda. But, as someone who grew up with siblings, I sometimes wonder if Jayda is missing out on anything by being an only child. And when I ponder this, I try to find comfort in something a wise friend once told me: Just because a child has a sibling doesn’t mean he or she will be close to that sibling. I have two siblings…a sister whom I adore and a brother whom I dislike. Sure, I love my brother because he’s my family, but has having him as a sibling enhanced my life? Definitely not. Would I be ok without him? Absolutely. So, there are no guarantees that giving Jayda a baby brother or sister would also mean providing her with a lifelong friend.

Lifelong friends aren’t born…they’re made. And so, I try to surround Jayda with people who love her…people whom she can count on when she needs help and support. People who will do all the things for her a good sibling can do. And, of course, I also try to befriend people who have babies of their own: babies we can visit—but whom I don’t have to take care of, too.

Playdate Etiquette for Moms? by Cara Meyers

My son is a very social child. I love the fact that he is social. First because he makes a friend or two just about everywhere we go, which keeps him entertained. Second, because it forces me to come out of my shell and drum up casual conversation with other Moms, which sometimes even lead to friendships for both of us.

But what do you do when your son has found his “new best friend” and you know in your heart that you just don’t “click” with that child’s Mom. What type of “etiquette” is warranted in situations like this? And where and how do you draw the line so that your child can still have playdates with his friend, while minimizing contact with the Mom in question?

I must say, my son has many friends, and I honestly enjoy the company of his friend’s Moms while we supervise their playdate. But my son has a new friend he adores; a polite, kind, happy child who gets along with my son beautifully. His Mom, on the other hand, is quite another story. I have to admit that I cringe when she suggests we all go somewhere for an outing or a special playdate. It’s not that she isn’t a nice person, we just doesn’t “click.” We share different philosophies about parenting, she comes from a completely different ethnic culture, which I normally would relish learning more about, but she makes assumptions that her ethnic culture is somewhat superior to all others. She is rather close-minded and frequently dominates our conversations. I feel belittled and exhausted from trying to be diplomatic throughout listening to her dissertations. I wish Miss Manners had a suggestion for how to handle the etiquette of such a situation.

My first approach, since my son’s friend lives only blocks away, was to have his Mom drop my son’s friend off at our home for a few hours to play. So the house turned into a tornado. Better that than two hours of listening to unsolicited opinions I have no interest in. Even better is when this Mom reciprocates and invites my son over to her home! A couple hours of peace and I make sure that my son cleans up before he leaves her home.

Still, I get those calls,”The boys are off next week, how about taking them to the farm?” Or, “If you have some free time over the weekend, let’s go for lunch and then see a movie with the boys?” What makes this worse is that this Mom usually presents the idea to her son who relates it to my son before I even get the call. Then I look like “Mommy Meanest” to my child if I don’t relent. And relent I do. Because my son is so incredibly happy with his “best friend.”

I’ve even tried the rude cell phone approach: Call someone and have a lengthy conversation while our children are playing. Or texting my husband so that I only have to HALF pay attention to this Mom. Still, she drones on and on about nothingness. I swear, I want to go home and take a nap after these playdates!

So, what WOULD Miss Manners do under these types of circumstances? Well, I consulted the 17th Edition of “Etiquette,” written by Emily Post’s granddaughter, Peggy Post.
Here she says, “The lesson here is to kill ‘em with kindness. By keeping your cool, you’re teaching by example, such as a parent does for a child.” So, I guess what I am really doing is supervising a playdate of THREE children. And I have to teach all of them by my example of staying levelheaded and remaining calm yet kind. Is this what Miss Manners would REALLY do? What do you think? And how would YOU handle this type of situation?

NOTE: Cara is wearing an exclusive t-shirt design available for sale in the Shop on http://www.motherhoodlater.com.