Mentor by Robin Gorman Newman

I'm out of sorts this week.

A mentor who I highly respected and cared for passed away unexpectedly.  He was a huge supporter of my writing and a real cheerleader for my career.  Not only was I shocked, but so sad.  Tears came pouring out.  He was a mensch of a guy, true professional and talent, and a teddy bear in the best sense of the word.  I grieve for him, feel for his family, and understand all the more the twists 'n turns and fragility of life.

On his Facebook page, there is an outpouring of love and kind words.  Clearly this was a man who touched many lives, and I want to do him proud by continuing enthusiastically to work on projects he encouraged me to pursue. He would want that.

My son never saw me cry so much (he wasn't alive when my mother passed away), and he rose to the occasion admirably this week.  He sat in my lap, gave me a big hug and brought a box of tissues, as I explained why I was so shaken and what this man meant to me and so many.

It made me aware of the notion of having a mentor and being a role model.

I am grateful to have had him in my life, and I'm now wondering who will provide that to my son as the years go by?

I want to be a positive role model for him, but I know there will be skills and pursuits that are important to him that he'll seek out, and I won't be the one to teach him.  Someone else, we have yet to identify, or more than one person, will fill those shoes.  And, it's BIG shoes to fill.  Inspiring a young mind...or for that matter....a mind of any age....is such an admirable task.  You have the ability to help someone fulfill their dreams, and to know that you did good in the world.  What could be more gratifying?!

I'm all about helping people, and I do it becasue it feels good.  I don't expect any payback.  In return, I receive gratification.  I'd like my son to feel the same way and to appreciate those who live by that creed. 

There's a lot to be said for helping others.  And, isn't that what good teachers do?  They share their acquired expertise and training and mold impressionable minds.  As adults, we might also call them mentors, though I guess that's more a one-on-one relationship.I Googled the word, and this is a definition I turned up.....A mentor facilitates personal and professional growth in an individual by sharing the knowledge and insights that have been learned through the years.

I hope for my son that as he matures, he is lucky enough to find himself in the company of a mentor or two who will help him travel along his chosen path.  Given that I'm a midlife mother, I know my son will spend a good portion of his adult life holding the memory of me in his heart, and I keep the faith that he will surround himself with good people who he can teach, and others he can learn from.

We're never too young or old to be inspired and to seek out people who can help us think out of the box, put aside self doubt, make discoveries, achieve things we might not have thought possible, and empower us to be the best we can be, both for our own benefit and that of the world at large.

GUEST BLOG POST: Caboose Baby by Sharon Johnson O'Donnell

Starting over with the baby routine after your other children are in school has its ups and downs. Sure there were times at the mall I had to yell to my middle son, David, who was 6 when my youngest was a baby, “Don’t do wheelies with the stroller!” And yes, it was a pain to have to take the diaper bag with me again wherever we went, after going places hands-free for several years.

The age gap means that I’m considered an older mom this time around -- a mid-life mom, as they call it, since I had Jason when I was 38. Children who are born awhile after their siblings is often called a caboose baby. The last one, bringing up the rear, giving the illusion of straggling behind. This analogy is a sad one to me, as if the caboose is an afterthought, trying to keep up with the rest of the train. Jason, my youngest, was no afterthought; he was what I knew was needed to complete our family along with our other sons, David and Billy, who was 9 at the time.

I, too, was a caboose baby, with my 3 siblings all considerably older than I am. I was the youngest, the ‘baby’ of the family, and perhaps that’s why I wanted a caboose baby, too. One to hold, to savor, knowing it’s your last. And knowing from personal experience that yes, time really does go by quickly and he’ll be grown in no time.

Of course, the age gap means that my boys have been at different places along the road to maturity, so the body changes can sometimes be a source of insight. Several years ago, Billy - who was 15 - was lying on the coach asleep, his arm stretched out over his head. Jason, 6, surveyed his brother’s exposed underarm hair and screwed up his face in disgust. I grinned and explained, “That’s what happens when you get older.”

Still mesmerized by his brother’s armpits, he replied, “The thought of that happening to me sickens me.”

Jason, now 10, likes to still do things with his brothers, but as Billy and David get older, the age gap is more pronounced. When they were younger, I’d take all the boys trick-or treating together. But on Halloween night of 2008, Jason and I wandered the dark streets of our neighborhood practically alone. Everybody in our neighborhood was now evidently too old for Halloween. Was I the only mom out here anymore?

When I’d gone trick or treating with Billy and David, there had been other kids their age and other moms about my age going trick or treating too.. Was I the only mom out here anymore?

When Billy and David were young, I knew other moms with sons the same age and formed relationships with them; with Jason, I haven’t done that because the moms are younger and travel in different circles than I do, while I’ve been busy with my older sons. So I don’t really have a lot of peers who have kids Jason’s age. Often Jason and I do things together by ourselves. Nothing wrong with that, but I find myself remembering how Billy and David used to play together and pal around on vacations.

I know that our family vacations will soon change as college student Billy will opt not to go along and David will soon follow, meaning my husband, Jason, and I will at some point take vacations with just the three of us. I’d welcome the time to concentrate on just Jason, but I know I’ll also miss the times we were all together at Disney or at a Red Sox game or even in the camper. I’ll miss having my boys together, and I know, as one caboose baby to another, that Jason will miss it too.

As a caboose baby myself, I can relate to that. My mother was lucky enough to have some friends and relatives with children near my age, but the two of us frequently did things together. When I was searching for a card for my mom on Mother’s Day of 2010, I found the perfect one: on the cover, it read, “From Your Youngest”. I immediately picked it out of the card rack and read it, getting tears in my eyes. It read in part: “Baby of the family? I was, I guess, it’s true. But I didn’t mind the slightest bit because, Mom, I had you..” It continues and then ends with: “So growing up the youngest wasn’t very hard to do, because you were my mother, and I grew up loving you.” When I gave it to her, I offered to read it aloud to her, which I do quite often since her eyesight is poor due to macular degeneration. As I read, I got a lump in my throat, looking into her blue eyes and also knowing Jason was right there listening too. I wrote in the card, “ I hope I can be the mom to Jason like you were to me when my siblings were grown up.” My mother and Jason will never know how very much I meant that. I had my mom, and now my youngest child had me. And I, in turn, still had him. It seems like some sort of circle of life, and I relish the fact that I am an older mom.

Sharon Johnson O'Donnell, mom of 3 sons (ages 19, 16, and 10), is a published author and award-winning columnist. Her humor book, House of Testosterone – One Mom’s Survival in a Household of Males, was named a BookSense notable book selection in 2007 and was then published in paperback by Houghton Mifflin. From 1998-2010, she wrote a regular column for The Cary News that won several statewide awards in North Carolina. Sharon’s also written for Good Housekeeping and Better Homes & Gardens, as well as greeting cards for Blue Mountain Arts. She teaches writing workshops in schools through a United Arts Council program. Sharon and her agent are currently pitching her latest manuscript to publishers; the book is tentatively titled, “Please Don’t Let Me Be the Oldest Mom in the PTA!” More info about her can be found at http://www.momsofboys.org.

Abandonment -- by Cara

This is the second part of a two part series for this blog.

Abandonment...

A feeling
A feeling of isolation within a relationship
An intense feeling of devastation when a relationship ends
An aloneness not by choice
A woman left by her husband of twenty years
A girl grieving over the death of her mother

Abandonment is all of this and more. It’s wound is at the heart of human experience.
(Excerpted from the book,” The Journey from Abandonment to Healing,” by Susan Anderson, C.S.W.)

The most important purpose for this blog concerns my son. For my husband and I to live under the same roof as “housemates” (AND my husband works from home!), moreover, for it not to be affecting our son in any noticeable way, is downright amazing. And I give my husband and I credit to limiting our disagreements for when our son is not at home. But more importantly, I saw last week how completely vital both my husband and I are to my son at this point in his life.

My husband travels frequently...usually twice a month, for about 3 days per trip. Last week my husband was gone from very early Wednesday morning (my son had just woken up...and he’s an early bird!) to very late on Sunday (almost when my son fell asleep). I could tell by Friday, my son was getting depressed and missing his father. To make matters worse, it had been raining, and predicted to rain the entire weekend. I get severe, chronic pain if we are going to get very bad weather. I was in so much pain, I wanted to gnaw on wood. I had to take my medication with codeine, which meant I wouldn’t be able to drive. I could barely remain awake. My son kept asking when Daddy would be home. I told him 2 more days. My “husband” and I set up Skype on both of our computers so that my son could see and speak to his father while my husband was away. We used Skype both Wednesday and Thursday with my son. My son was elated with this piece of technology! I was elated for my son. But on Friday, my husband was out to dinner with clients and couldn’t get to his hotel to Skype with my son. My son was terribly disappointed. I was too. And in atrocious pain. I slept with my little boy that night.

Knowing I was in so much pain, my Father-in-Law (bless his heart), called early Saturday and offered to take my son to his Karate class and then out to lunch and back to my In-laws house for part of the day. My son couldn’t stay cooped up in the house (especially an ADD child!) with a mother who could barely make meals. So I thanked my Father-in-Law profusely! My son didn’t want to go to Karate. He wanted to go on Skype to see Daddy. My husband was in Texas, and with the time zone change, I knew he wouldn’t appreciate me calling early, but I do what is in the best interest of my son now. I called my husband. I got voicemail and left a message. I texted my husband. No response. My husband used to leave me his flight and hotel itinerary whenever he went away. Forget that. He could be on the moon for all I knew. So I had to tell my son that Daddy was sleeping late and that we would try to “Skype” him later. My son reluctantly went out with my Father-in-Law.

I fell asleep from all of the codeine in my system but woke from a call from my Mother-in-Law, saying that my son was “irritable” and “whiny” and wanted to go home badly to “see” Daddy. I knew he wanted to try to “Skype” with my husband. So while my Father-in-Law was driving my son back home, I called my husband. He couldn’t Skype because he was on his way out to a conference. He couldn’t get calls during the conference, which would last at least 2 hours. My heart sunk for my little boy. I pleaded with my husband to try to at least find a few minutes to call and speak with my son because my son needed to hear his father’s voice. My husband said that he would “try” later.

My son came home and asked to “see” Daddy. I tried to explain that Daddy said he would call later. He wanted to know when Daddy would be coming home. I told him tomorrow. The two of us were a pair of zombies in front of the television. Me in terrible physical pain, my son in terrible emotional pain.

Later that night, after a full day of not hearing from my husband, and before he brushed his teeth, my son asked, “Mommy? Is Daddy dead?” My heart skipped a beat, but I calmly said, no, Daddy was just very busy on his trip. My son doesn’t really understand the concept of death. My father used to live with us before he died. Once my father DID die, we explained that Grandpa would always be with us in our hearts and our memories, but would not physically be coming back home. Five minutes after my son fell asleep, my husband texted me to see if he could speak to our son. I told him no. Our son had just fallen asleep. I slept with my son that night as well. I held his little hand in mine.

Finally it was Sunday. My husband called early because he had to catch an early flight back and he could tell through my numerous attempts, that my son wanted to speak with him. My son was so happy and excited! He wanted to Skype with his father, but my husband was already in a taxi on his way to the airport, so he couldn’t Skype. My husband promised that he would call my son before his plane took off.

When my son got off the phone, he eagerly wanted to know EXACTLY on the clock when Daddy would be home. He told us his plane was to arrive at approximately 3:00 pm. My son planted himself down and would not budge from the house. I was still having residual pain, so I couldn’t take my son anywhere. My Father-in-Law called. He wanted to spend some time with my son. My son adamantly declined; he was waiting for his Daddy to come home. He refused to leave the house.

The rain was pouring outside; thunder was heard periodically. We received a call from my husband…due to the thunderstorms in New York, his flight would be delayed for at least a few hours. My heart sunk for my son. I had to gather up the courage to tell him that Daddy would be delayed by a few hours. My son insisted on wanting to now EXACTLY when Daddy would arrive home. I said I wasn’t sure. But I reassured my son that Daddy WAS coming home.

My son was depressed the rest of the day. He did not want to do anything. He didn’t want to play a game, play some cards, put Legos together…all things that I honestly was in too much pain to want to do, but if it lifted my son’s spirits, I’d grit my teeth and act as happy as possible for the sake of my son.

Then I had an idea. We hadn’t heard from my husband in quite awhile so I said to my son, “If we call Daddy and get his voicemail immediately, that means that Daddy is on the plane, on his way home, because he has to shut off his cell phone while he is flying on the plane.” I dialed the number to my husband’s cell phone and placed it next to my son’s ear. The call went straight to voicemail. “Daddy is coming! Daddy is coming!” My son’s spirits lifted tremendously.

Once my husband’s plane landed, he called to let us know, and again, my son wanted to know EXACTLY when Daddy would be coming home. I assured him it would be very soon. It was close to my son’s bedtime, but I knew he would not fall asleep until Daddy was safe at home. In fact, my son called my husband three times while my husband was in the taxi on his way home to assure himself that Daddy would be home soon.

My husband finally arrived home. With a stuffed animal gift for my son. My son was so relieved; he hugged and kissed his father, gathered the new stuffed animal in his arms, and fell fast asleep, tightly hugging his new toy.

It was through this five-day ordeal that I realized two important things. First, pain or no pain…medical crises or not…I will ALWAYS find a way to care of and be there for my son. I was a single Mom for those few days. With pain so excruciating, I could hardly think straight. But when it came to my son, I met every one of his needs at home. I will always be able to take care of my son, medical conditions or not.

The second, and more important realization is that at this point in my son’s life, he needs BOTH of his parents. And he preferably needs them in the same home. We recently went to a parent/teacher/principal meeting and were told that my son is doing SO much better in school than from earlier in the year. If I were to have my husband removed from our home, the person I would be hurting the most would be my son. I couldn’t bear to do that to him. I am the one abandoned. My son does not need to be abandoned too. But this is not the first time for me. And through therapy, I can eventually put the pieces of my life and my heart back together. One tiny piece at a time.

The Loveliness of "Only" -- by Cara

I recently saw a posting on a mothering website. A question was posed to those who had “only” children. The author of the post wanted to know whether the children were well adjusted and whether the Moms felt “complete” with only one child. The woman who posed this query recently found out that she would be unable to have any more children and was worried that her daughter would grow up feeling “deprived” of the experience of having siblings and whether only child families felt “complete.”

The reason I homed in on this post is because not only do I have an “only” child, I am one. I also pondered and am self-predicting that there are many “older” Moms out there who also have “onlies” and feel perfectly “complete” with this choice. In fact, all of the weekly bloggers for Motherhood Later ...Than Sooner have “only” children!

So why is it that society puts a label and needs an explanation for only children families? In fact, I cannot tell you how many times my own Mother-in-Law has made comments about my son, ending with the phrase, “Well, after all, he’s an only child, so he’s spoiled.” The word “spoiled” refers to food, not children. And it certainly is not a type of behavior, as my Mother-in-Law repeatedly implies. What is so wrong about being an “only?” And conversely, what are the attributes of having an only child?

I would like to start with my own wonderful scenario, which occurred last week. My son lost his first tooth! When I found out, I quickly went to a website that had male as well as female Tooth Fairy selections. I downloaded and printed out the page of Tooth Fairies and showed them to my son so that he could chose which Tooth Fairy he wanted to come and take his tooth. Then we e-mailed this Tooth Fairy (ie. Daddy) because my son had quite a few questions to ask his Tooth Fairy. I also downloaded a certificate that I printed on our color printer, on cardstock, which was waiting for him when he woke up. Throughout all of this, I kept thinking, how wonderful for both of us to totally immerse ourselves in this milestone event and make it as magical and as wonderful as it should be! If I had more than one child, I never would have been able to embrace this event in the same way! And it has nothing to do about money, just time. Incidentally, my best friend's little girl lost her first tooth the same day as my son. She posted something on Facebook that said, "The baby is screaming and I'm out of singles so the Tooth Fairy is bringing glitter glue tonight." When I read that, I thought to myself, how fortunate....how fortunate for us that my son is an only child.

I could list a hundred other examples of how fortunate only children are. And a hundred famous people who were only children, throughout history. I think what it boils down to, though, is the type of parenting a child gets, whether in a ten child household or a household with one, what types of individual temperaments each of the children has and how theirs “fit” within the household “mix.” And also for a child to feel loved, whether number ten or an only.
I anticipate that along with the growing numbers of “older” parents that arise, as time progresses, the number of only child families will grow in number as well. I welcome seeing this societal change as the years pass. Then maybe the labels such as “spoiled” will not only be a misnomer, they will be a thing of the past.

I came upon this fable written by Lokman, an ancient Ethiopian sage:

A hare, upon meeting a lioness one day, said reproachfully: “I have always a great number of children while you have only one now and then.”

The lioness replied, “That is true, but my one child is a lion.”

And, in fact, so is mine.

Halloween Horror -- by Cara

My son’s FAVORITE time of the year is not his birthday, not the winter holidays, it’s Halloween. Now, I find this quite odd because this is not the time of year my son enjoys most because of the obvious - candy! No, my interesting son has no interest in candy of any type, flavor or taste. My son hates ALL sweets, even juice.

So if it’s not the candy that brings such excitement to my son, there really is only one option left. My son loves to dress up in costumes and pretend play! He has been doing this since he was two years old, and we have had quite the collection of costumes! Batman, Superman, Spiderman, pirate, cowboy, safari hunter, handyman! But, as the years went by and the costumes became too small, his interest in costumes diminished for all except one: Spiderman!

I think my son has been Spiderman at Halloween for three years in a row now! I even went out and bought the black (“dark”) Spiderman costume as well as the red and blue one last year, because my son would then have a choice, but his choice flip-flopped just about every hour, if not day! So, he ended up wearing both! One for a special event, and the other one to Trick-or-Treat in. So, Spiderman it has always been. Until this year.

My son is now 6. And I was pretty certain that he would want to be a Spiderman of one type or another again this year. Just to be on the safe side though, I asked him what he wanted to be for Halloween since all of the Halloween signs and displays are already up. His response: A Power Ranger. Well, okay, a Power Ranger works for me. So we pulled up some Power Ranger costumes on the computer so that he could show me which one he liked the best, since there are (I think) six different color Power Rangers. As we were scrolling up and down, I was certain he would want to be the green power ranger, since green is his favorite color. Wrong. Again. He wanted to be a RED Power Ranger because according to my son, the red Power Ranger is the one who is the most powerful. Okay, fine. I just should have ordered the costume online right then and there and been done with it. But no, I decided to send my son and husband on a mission. To buy the red Power Ranger costume at our local party store because the weekly flyer was having a sale on costumes that week. Mark this one as ONE BIG, HUGE MISTAKE!!!

Later that day, my son came running into the house, my husband behind him, with plastic chains across his body and hooks with fake dried blood painted on them hanging off the chains. My son looked elated! My husband looked elated! I looked horrified! My son ran upstairs, chains jingling. When I asked my husband what my son had on, he said part of his Halloween costume. I asked why a Power Ranger costume would have such hideous chains and hooks with it. My husband replied,”It’s not a Power Ranger costume! It’s a Ghost Rider costume! Now for those of you, like me, who are not exactly sure what a Ghost Rider costume is, it is a motorcycle jacket and hat, with a mask depicting a partially decomposing face, accented with these lovely chains I mentioned. Well, I can’t print what I ACTUALLY said to my husband, but it falls along the lines of, “Are you crazy??!! Do you REALLY think that this is an appropriate Halloween costume for a SIX YEAR OLD??!! The mask alone is going to scare his friends!! And their parents!!” My husband made some half nonsensical remark such as, “Oh, it’s just a costume!” And ran up to see my son.

Two days later, I went back to the store where the Ghost Rider costume came from and exchanged it for the red Power Ranger costume. Yes, my son will be angry with me, my husband won’t understand me, but I can at least be able to say that I was the responsible parent. Someone in this family has to be one, it might as well be me. And it usually is.

Baby Steps -- by Robin

In case you are yearning for a basement update......we finally had our plumbing inspection done today. Unreal....it took nearly a month to get the guy here. Next up is the town inspection, and then we're good to go....with some minor items yet to be done by the contractor. Everything will be moved back downstairs, and life will resume.

That said, I'm now in the throes of attempting to organize.

I feel like we've moved. Not only do we have to get things in order upstairs since so much was moved up to the main floor for safe-keeping, but we (I) then have to decide what goes where in the basement.

We went to Target this weekend and bought a ton of plastic bins...varying sizes...to store Seth's toys. I am spending this week pouring through the bins of toys we have in the living...and then his bedroom....to create a place for each of them. Of course, in the mix, I'm finding tons of little and big pieces with no obvious home.

I'm not great at just throwing out stuff. It's something I'm working on...not just for Seth, but myself. I can't live well in a state of clutter. I don't know how anyone can. But, it's also not easy to take the bull by the horns and devote the time that is needed to create a sytem in your home. Ultimately you'll be all the better for it, but it's a painstaking process.

And, Marc (my husband) isn't overly up for the task. And, Seth can only do so much. So, it's on my shoulders. And, I must admit, I have moments where I feel resentful. This is not fun. But, then I remind myself that lots of life's projects require major time and effort and are not always a joy, depending on the stage you're in.

In a perfect world, we'd all have the opportunity to focus on our passions, but we do have responsibilities. And, since I've become a mom, I'm all the more conscious of that.

I feel like there is so much that I take care of. My husband has his share too. But, since I'm the one working from home, I'm constantly bouncng back 'n forth from activity to activity.

I was part of a "prayer" call this week that a friend of mine arranged. She was in need of the empowering energy of a group to help her attract more money into her life. Who wouldn't want that?! But, she truly is in need.

So, I participated. Not being sure what this would entail. While the focus was on my friend, it's interesting how you can take away even when you're not the center of attention. We each had a chance to introduce ourselves and then share ideas and thoughts for my friend. Then, the facilitator shared her sentiments, and it hit home for me.

In the midst of all the tasks of life that we have on our plates, as women, we are often hard on ourselves. She emphasized the need to be self forgiving. To cut ourselves some slack as we endeavor to be all things to all people.

And, one of the gals added the importance of making time for self and having fun or just chilling.

I know I can be hard on myself, and it's something I need to work on. And, I could use more belly laughs for sure. And reflexology massages.

While a big part of me wishes I could just snap my fingers and have my house (and basement) in tip top shape, if I focus on what is realistic for me to accomplish today and each day, little by little, step by step, things will get done.

It might feel like baby steps. But, I remember when my son took his first baby steps, and now, in the blink of a eye, as the years have quickly passed, he's itching to play football.

PS -- Check out the MotherhoodLater.com October featured later mom, Marissa Janet Winokur, actress/singer/Luv's spokesperson. A cancer survivor, she and her husband used a surrogate, and she shares her story with us.

PPS -- Thanks to http://awholevillage.com/ for the October giveaway on MotherhoodLater.com. They produce lovely one-of-a-kind custom keepsake books that feature your personal wisdom.

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.

How Does Your Garden Grow -- by Cara Meyers

Back in May, my son’s school had a Plant Sale to raise money for the PTA. I offered to volunteer at the Plant Sale that day to not only help with the sale, but to also be there when my son’s class came to buy plants. I wanted to help guide him towards plants I knew would grow well in our garden, especially considering that the amount of sunlight in certain parts of the garden was pretty minimal at best.

I took him to the shade loving plants. No interest. I took him to the flats of impatiens and petunias and suggested we plant them in containers in the sunnier parts of our yard. He barely gazed at the beautiful flowers. He was on a mission. He wanted to buy a vegetable plant. A specific vegetable plant. A tomato plant.

My heart sank. How would we be able to grow a vegetable plant that required quite a bit of sunlight in a garden that was almost pure shade? No amount of reasoning would do. He HAD to buy that tomato plant! I relented and let him buy the tomato plant. And a cucumber plant too. My heart was hurting for him knowing he would be so disappointed when his plants didn’t fair well in our shady garden. But he was beaming! He was going to grow tomatoes! And cucumbers! He could hardly contain himself! He couldn’t wait to come home from school to plant them!
I was despondent. This little boy planted his tomato and cucumber plants all by himself using a plastic sand shovel. He lugged the watering can full of water to the plants, making sure not to “drown” them. My heart was heavy knowing that his plants would most likely not make it. I would be surprised if they grew much at all.

Then came an unusually cold and extremely wet June. My son kept checking on his plants. They were not growing much. He would talk to them and water them (even though it had been raining practically every day!). He kept asking me how long it would take to get the tomatoes to grow and the cucumbers to appear. I didn’t have an answer other than, “Let’s wait and see. As the weather gets warmer, maybe the plants will grow some more.” But I wasn’t hopeful. Even the impatiens and petunias I bought and planted myself looked “leggy” and waterlogged. My heart was hurting for my little boy.

We had pretty much forgotten about the vegetable plants until a big storm blew a large tree branch onto my son’s tomato plant last week. I couldn’t believe my eyes! This plant was not a plant anymore, it was a huge bush! And once my husband and I staked it up, we saw about a dozen bright red, cherry tomatoes! I wanted to jump up and down! My son would be so delighted when he came home from camp!

When he arrived home, I walked him over to the tomato “bush.” He saw the tomatoes and ran to get a container to collect them! He delicately picked all the ripe ones in the front, but in trying to reach the ones in the back, I had to move a cucumber leaf. There, staring up at us was this beautiful, perfect green cucumber, ready to be picked! I was astonished! Under the worst conditions, the vegetables still grew! And all my son could say was, “See Mommy! They grew! You just have to know how to take care of them!” It made me think of how well I was faring as a parent. Even under some of the worst conditions, my child thrives. Even when I least expect it, he flourishes. All I could think of was how true he was...how true he was!

Who Needs a Husband? I Need My Mommy and Daddy! by Jamie Levine

To be a successful single mom (or at least a sane one!), you really need a good support system: Friends or family whom you can lean on when you’re in a clinch. And, most importantly, they must be people whom both you and your child like and trust. In my case, those people are my mom and dad.

I’m not always comfortable asking for help when I need it. This is a weakness I’ve been working on ever since Jayda was born, but I haven’t yet overcome it. While I’m blessed to have a lot of wonderful friends, it’s never easy for me to ask one of them to watch Jayda when I have to be somewhere else. But my mom and dad? I’ll ask them in a heartbeat. When I need to go to the city for a meeting and it runs late, my parents pick Jayda up from daycare. When I want to go to the gym on a weekend morning, my dad happily entertains Jayda while I’m gone. And when I have a date—with a man, or even just a girlfriend for a glass of wine—my mom and dad are there to listen to the baby monitor while Jayda snoozes.

But what about when they’re not around? Ugh. Only hours after my parents had left for a week-long trip to Vermont, my car started acting up and I was told by my mechanic that I needed to take it to the dealership…a 30-minute drive away. When I made my appointment at the dealership, they told me they’d drive me home after I left my car there, but they had no loaner cars. Huh? I could drop my car off on Tuesday morning right after I took Jayda to daycare. But what if the car wasn’t fixed by the time I had to pick her up? Or worse…what if it would take an extra day to fix it (that day being a Wednesday—the day Jayda is home with me)? How would I pick up my repaired car with Jayda in tote? And, well, simply, how would I deal with being stranded at home for two days?

I wanted to call my mom on her cell phone and cry. But what on earth could she do? She was halfway to Vermont already. And besides, I was supposed to be a “grown up.” Heck, I’m a mom, myself! So, instead, I panicked alone. Binged on gummi bears (the ones I give Jayda to encourage her potty training). Gave myself a migraine. And then, I did what I should have done first: I picked up the phone.

First, I called Jayda’s daycare to see if Jayda could stay later on Tuesday, if necessary. Affirmative. Then, I called a friend whom we had plans with on Wednesday and told her I wasn’t sure we’d be able to make it…everything depended on when I’d get my car back. She immediately offered to come over and watch Jayda if I needed her to—and also suggested we move the play date closer to my house. Wonderful!

That evening, I vented to another friend, who said she’d be in my neighborhood on Wednesday and that she’d love to watch Jayda—or give me a ride somewhere if I needed it. Oh, I love my friends! And on Tuesday morning, as I pulled out of my driveway to take Jayda to daycare, my neighbor waved at us and asked how I was. I mentioned my impending trip to the dealership and she told me she’d be around both Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning if I needed her help. Thank you, neighbor!

Suddenly the unsettled feeling I’d been having ever since I’d spoken to my mechanic disappeared. Everything was going to be ok. And you know what? I took my car to the dealership and they asked if I wanted to wait while they repaired my car. Wait? A whole day? Oh, no. The repairs took 45 minutes and I was back home in time to go to the gym and get all my work done before I had to pick Jayda up from daycare (without the extended hours). Go figure. I guess I don’t need my mom and dad, after all. Well…at least not this week while they’re on vacation!

More Than One

Seth was off from school yesterday, and he had a playdate with a girl in his kindergarten class.

It was our first time getting together with them. The kids played nicely, and I enjoyed getting to know the mom.

She was my kinda gal. Lots to talk about. Introspective. Holistic health-minded. Studying to be a life coach with an author I admire. It was a pleasant afternoon.

One thing that really struck me is that she has four children. I was in awe.

She said that last year she turned 40 and planned a getaway celebration with good friends, and how they had a blast. Her husband was very supportive of her trip.

She and her husband practice self care...they have both a yoga practitioner and masseuse come to their home regularly. I thought that was so admirable.

But, what I really wondered was what life is like with four children? They have a live-in nanny weekdays, but still......

I could only begin to imagine the dynamic of homework for four (though one is only 2.5), meals out, coordinating playdates, after school activities, etc.

I pondered what that felt like? And, the mom who seemed so industrious, how does she even fit in the time for her coaching studies? She goes to the gym at 5:30AM with a friend because she said she wouldn't get there if the didn't go at that hour. I'd be comotose if I did that, though some nights I'm up at that hour anyway.

Today I had lunch with a friend in her 50s who is an ambitious, highly-creative empty nester. And, while we were focusing on a work project for her, child-rearing came up. And, she herself said that having children was a lot of work, even if it's one. This is not to say you don't love your children...and I adore Seth.....but there's a lot to be done as a parent.

For me, I couldn't imagine for a moment having four children, especially as a later mom. I wouldn't have the energy or focus to devote to it. There are other things I aspire to do simultaneously. I'm glad I'm clear about that, and I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who parent more than one. I just know that at this point in my life, that would not be for me. And, luckily my husband is on the same page.

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POST VACATION

Wow....if I could have blogged during our vacation, it would have been such a great release, but I didn't have my compter with me.

It was great to get away, and actually had a really amazing experience. I had the opportunity to meet former President Clinton and Hillary, and to personally give President Clinton a signed copy of my book HOW TO MARRY A MENSCH(decent person). Very cool and quite surreal. It occurred to me afterwards that I should have suggested they pass it on to Chelsea, but perhaps they'll do so anyway.

Aside from this encounter, I celebrated my birthday by getting a facial and massage. As I get closer and closer to 50, it's hard to believe just how fast the years go.

And, I saw a newfound maturity of sorts in Seth this trip. He discovered the power of autonomy and exerted himself in a way I've never seen him do at home.

We vacation at Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz every summer with family members, and have been since Seth was a baby. So, I guess, having grown up there, he has such a level of comfort and familiarity, that he feels he owns the place.

It began by him, along with my 14 year old niece, requesting a copy of our room key for himself. Of course, he kept leaving it in our room, and luckily the room number wasn't on it, in case he lost it outside the room.

Marc, my husband, went home two nights during the trip for a company workshop, and I was with Seth. One of the nights, he gave me quite a fright. He had been playing with a girl a bit older than him and didn't show up to meet me when he was supposed to. I wound up searching the resort and was on the verge of contacting security, when a friend of my sister told me she saw him. Turned out he had been playing in the girl's room, which was ok, except that he didn't tell me.

We bribed Seth to attend the morning session of camp by buying him a toy fireboat he could play with at the beach. Luckily, it worked, so Marc and I could at least get some down time or hiking time in before lunch.

Seth made friends so readily this trip, including a little girlfriend, who looked and acted like a female version of him. They were so totally cute. She doesn't live in NY, so we'll see if we see them again during a future Mohonk trip. We did take photos of them together. I'm curious to see his reaction when we get the photos developed.

As mature as he was trying to act, the five year old in him also emerged. There were a couple of minor poop accidents, losses of toys, and the most unreal pee accident. We had visited Woodstock one afternoon, and bought Seth a tye dyed rock 'n roll t-shirt.

One night he was too weary to put on his pajamas, so he decided to sleep in the shirt and short. Normally we prefer he wear PJs, but went along with it this time since it was vacation.

In the morning, we got quite a colorful surprise. Seth had been so exhausted, that he didn't go to the bathroom before he fell asleep. So, he had a pee accident during the night. When he woke up, the sheets of his bed were blue and purple, from the original white. The dye from the t-shirt had run and colored everything, including his stomach and arms. Just unreal!

We had a tye dye mess.

We threw Seth in the bathtub and scrubbed away, and quickly soaked the t-shirt and hung it in the shower stall, as it dripped further shades of blue and purple.

We were relieved, in a sense, that it happened at the hotel, since our sheets at home are patterned and we would not have been able to bleach out the colors.

So, I'd say our trip was quite eventful in more ways than one. While it's great to get away, it's good to be back home too.

Adoption

Why is the process of adoption such a challenge?

I have such a mixed feeling about this.

My son is adopted, and we went through a very difficult and emotional course until we successfully became his parents.

Adoption is a common path for many later parents, and while I know some who seemed to make a child their own with greater ease, I know others struggling.

A close mom friend of mine now wants to add to her family through adoption and has shared with me how overwhelming all the paperwork felt, etc., just getting to the point of being able to advertise. Now she is speaking with potential birthmothers, and that's a whole different experience which nothing in life truly prepares you for.

On one hand, I respect that a legal system was put in place to protect children and ideally have them adopted by good homes. However, it just seems that many families whose hearts are in such a good place, and want to adopt, not only have to pay a lot of money to do so, but then have to endure the process which can easily feel like an emotional rollercoaster.

And, sometimes it doesn't even seem like a reality that you will get a child. This friend of mine has big moments of doubt, and I totally empathize. We went through that as well. Until it happens, it's not an easy thing to believe. It can be such a waiting game, all the while your heart just yearns to love and provide for a child.

I feel for the aspiring moms out there who have chosen to go the adoption route, for whatever reason. It's a wonderful way to create a family. I just wish that somehow the process was more inviting or easier to follow.

I have assured my friend that the child she is meant to get will find its way into her home. But, until then, she has anxious periods of waiting for the phone to ring and holding her breath that it will be a truly viable situation that they can see through to completion.

Have you adopted, and what was your experience? Did you find the process a hard one? Did you have your doubts that it would happen for you?

Admission from the Potty Challenged

We took Seth to the pediatrician this week. He has a nasty cough. And, while we were very concerned about it, the pediatrician seemed more intrigued about the fact that at age four he is in pullups.

I admit it. We are a potty training challenged family.

We have tried. Last summer we had it partially nailed...so I thought....the #1 bodily function, as they say. My son was pretty consistently alerting us when he had to pee. #2 has never worked. Once we got lucky, and he pooped in the potty, and we celebrated....thinking he was now on the path to bathroom success. Well, that lasted a day, and he was back to having constant accidents. Even his new cool Spiderman briefs couldn't motivate him to speak up.

Once he started nursery school, it seemed that he digressed completely, since it
changed his daily routine. And, he now rarely, if ever, says he needs to go potty....whether for #1 or 2. On top of it, he denies when he does it in his pullup and doesn't even mind walking around in it.....until we have to use 1/2 a tube of Balmex to treat his irritated skin.

What's a mom to do?

So....we are now consulting a parenting pro to see what light she can shed.

Bribery hasn't even worked......not even a supersize rescue helicopter that he couldn't wait to get his hands on.

I have joked that he won't walk down the aisle in pullups when he gets married one day. But, since we have a long way to go until the wedding, we have to somehow get with the potty training program sooner than later.

Sneaking in Some Work

It is Sunday, I should be doing things around the house (laundry, dishes, going through piles of old magazines) because baby is napping. But instead, I am compelled to get work done even though I am trying to only work on weekday mornings when the babysitter is here. There is either not enough time during the week or I can't get motivated during the week to focus entirely on work.

I end up blogging (hmmm, what am I doing right now?) or Twittering or doing some virtual window shopping. I'm trying to keep my workload manageable but am still trying to squeeze in a new client and a new column. Who do I think I am? The Pre-Baby Me?

Pre-baby, I was incredibly motivated, focused and productive. All of those words seem foreign to me now. I can remember that they used to apply to me but can't remember what they felt like. I keep making To Do lists then losing them, or I'm staring at them crosseyed hoping things will magically get checked off the list.

I've started feeling guilty about wanting to work all the time. I like working. I like getting things done. I'm still adjusting to the fact that taking care of baby means a different kind of productivity. I'm enjoying the milestones met and more bonding with baby, but I keep looking for "assignments" with a beginning, middle and end to check off a motherhood list. Probably not a healthy way to look at parenting.

So as I do mental and emotional gymnastics to learn what it means to be a mom instead of a workaholic overachiever, I find myself sneaking a moment to do things on my computer on the weekend as if I were sneaking chocolates. A momentary high of accomplishment. And the leftover feeling of guilt. Because there is still stuff to do around the house and baby will wake up any minute now.