Craving Community by Robin Gorman Newman

It's always amazed me that I'm a writer at heart because it's such a solitary craft, and in that sense, it doesn't suit me at all.

I love being around people and feeling part of a community.  That's one of the resounding reasons I launched Motherhood Later...Than Sooner.  But, for me, it's not just about connecting with other moms, it's about quality time with people you enjoy, and ideally, those who truly mean something to you.  If they happen to be moms, that's icing on the cake, but far from a requirement.

I have found that since becoming a mother, coupled with getting older, life for everyone I know is so full, with the operative word "busy" in constant use.  In people's minds, there is little time for fostering relationships (especially new ones), and pleasure is squeezed in between chores and what easily starts to feel like a stagnant daily existance.

I crave more than that.  I want to enjoy life and the people in my world.  This is a priority.  And, in my book, you're never too old to make new friends or reinforce longstanding friendships. It's worth it.

This past week/weekend was an unusual time in my home. For four days straight, we had a full house.  Marc and I felt like keepers of a B and B we called Chez Newman, and though a bit hectic, it was fun.  One very close friend who I worked with some 25 years ago and lives a distance away, came to stay with us for two nights, and it took me back to our professional days as single gals working in NYC.  While it was a time of spontaneity and enjoying all that Manhattan had to offer, ironically it wasn't all joyous since we were living in the gray.  And, that was a challenging place for us.  A frequent topic of discussion was our desire to meet the men we would one day marry.  We weren't in a rush to walk down the aisle that very moment, but in a perfect world, we would have had a crystal ball so we'd be assured it would happen.  And, we'd know exactly when and how.  Then, we might have been able to rest easy, and potentially enjoy our 20s all the more.

Fast forward, and we're now both married women with kids living in our respective suburbs.  We got what we wanted.  And, though we love our children and husbands, we yearn for the freedom that feels like another lifetime ago. 

This takes me back to my college days.  When I was an undergraduate student attending Hofstra University, starting my second year, I lived in a single dorm room.  It was small but had the necessities, and while I appreciated the privacy, I also relished company.  So, when I wasn't hibernating writing a paper or studying all night for an exam, my room was the "go-to" destination.  I had an open door policy (at times, even if I was in my pajamas), and fellow student friends would wander in 'n out, and I was in my element.

My good friend Alli (Aunt Alli to Seth), who also stayed with us this past week (for one night), has shared  how she and other empty nester friends have had conversations about communal living. They've discussed the possibility of one day buying a large house with ample space for all of them.

I can see the appeal of that or living in a gated or even retirement community, when the time comes.  If you're lucky enough to have neighbors you enjoy, you have a built in circle of companionship.  While I feel fortunate to live in our house, we are only friendly with one set of neighbors, the rest of whom keep to themselves.  I see many at our community pool in the summer, but conversations start 'n end there.

I don't want to think about old age at present.  I have no desire to wish the years away.  But, I do know that I appreciate the company of people I can have heartfelt discussions with.  Other women who get raging hormones.  Other women who decided to be a stay at home mom and grapple with the challenges that come with that.  Other women who yearn for topics of discussion beyond parenthood.  Other women who want to get to know you despite having an existing social circle.  Other women engaged in stimulating pursuits, who you can learn from.   And, I'm certainly open to getting to know men as well (of course, not romantically).

So....to all  who know and love us....Chez Newman is open for business.  Don't be a stranger.  And, if you are a stranger, don't be afraid to say hello.

Confessional -- by Laura Houston

We enter into parenthood with a skewed presumption: we are going to be perfect parents. We read the books. We take the classes. We troll the Internet looking for information that guarantees the joy and success of parenthood will not be lost on us. The picture perfect is thus: we’ll be rolling on the clean floor laughing with our babbling, adorable, freshly powdered baby, and we won’t get Cheerios stuck in our hair or sour milk on our pants because by golly we have it together.

What were we thinking?

So here it has been one year, two months, one week and a couple of days, and I’ve learned a thing or two about parental reality. It’s time to do the motherhood confessional, but only on one condition: no judgment from you. Because chances are, you did some of these things, too. Or your mother did. Or the model-perfect mom you envy on the playground did, and she’s just too stuck-up to confess. And keep in mind we’re all still supermoms no matter our faults.

Here it goes — my failings as a parent over the last year:

1. The ten-second rule is alive and well at my house during mealtime. In fact, if the floor is reasonably clean, I stretch it to the 120-second rule.
2. I lie to other parents who are expecting twins. I tell them you just do everything at the same time. Knock it out all at once. And it’s fun. Oh yes – it’s fun. Why not let them be blissfully, ignorantly happy for a few more months?
3. We waste a lot of food in this house. I calculate how full they are by how much is in the floor. A big pile means they’re done.
4. I once went three days without brushing my teeth, so now I leave the tube of toothpaste on the counter to remind me to brush.
5. I can wear my yoga pants way too many days in a row.
6. If I don’t change my vocabulary, my boys’ first word is going to be the one that rhymes with fire truck. And they already know when I say, “God Damn it!” they need to stop whatever their doing and back away.
7. I thought reading would be one of my greatest pleasures, but it bores me silly because we read the same books over and over again. Sometimes I make up different words for the books. Sometimes those barnyard animals are doing and saying some very naughty things. And then I laugh at my dark humor. And then the boys laugh with me. It’s as if they know. Then I feel guilty and story time is abruptly over.
8. I vowed to keep sugar out of their diet, but now I will walk four blocks out of my way to get them the deep fried, doughy, sugary bombolinis they love in hopes they eat enough to sleep through the night.
9. And, no, they still don’t sleep through the night. And, yes, I have read every fire-trucking sleep manual there is. Nothing works. Even the nannies gave up. So don’t email me any of your tips. We’ve tried them all, and we’re at peace with it. Almost.
10. When weather is prohibitive for venturing out, I don’t hesitate to give them three baths a day so I can sit on the can and read a book while they play happily for 20 freakin’ minutes. It’s the only thing I can do to keep from going insane.
11. When asked if they are twins, I have learned to say no, so I don’t have to have conversations with people I don’t know about their sister’s brother-in-law who had twins 22 years ago. People are fascinated by twins. Spend a day taking care of a pair, and you won’t be.
12. When I have not had time to go grocery shopping, I will feed the boys the triple cream Brie cheese on vegetable flavored crackers and tell myself that the veggie flakes count as a salad and the Brie is just extending their palate even if it does give them horrible, room-clearing gas.
13. Happy hour has a whole new meaning to me now.
14. I don’t put clothes on them when it’s more than 75 degrees outside so I don’t have to do as much laundry.
15. If I can’t sleep I pluck Wyatt from the comfy quiet of his crib and take him to bed with me because his short, soft breaths lull me back to sleep every time.
16. For someone who is a big fan of schedules, I gave up trying to get the boys in bed by 7pm way too easily. Some nights, like when “Lost” is on, we let them crawl around in the blue light of the TV until we go to bed.
17. I let them chew on Victoria’s Secret catalogs while I make dinner. It occupies them and gives me some sort of satisfaction to see them drooling on the models but not in the way it was intended. The mess is horrible. I find bras and panties all over the floor.
18. I make up songs for everything we do around the house. There’s a “Who-Wants Their-Diaper-Changed?” song, a “Way-Too-Many-Babies” song, and a “Shake, Shake, Shake Your Martini” song. My personal favorite is the “Your Whining Makes Me Wine” song sung to the tune of “The Farmer in the Dell.” I sing these songs absent-mindedly in public, and now my husband, friends and nanny do, too.
19. Yes. I smear Nutella on broccoli, zucchini, green beans and anything else I deem their diet needs.
20. Some days I put Ovaltine in my coffee because that’s all the breakfast I have time for. If I am not careful, I choke on the lumps.

So there you have it. That’s my purge. And I want to be clear on one thing: I would not trade a second of motherhood for anything. I love it. I do. I am crazy about my sons, and they are crazy about me. Even when I think I can’t change another diaper or chase another cheerio under the fridge, I sometimes stop and look at them and think, “Man, these guys are great.” Because they are. They rarely cry. They’re intelligent and curious. They laugh every day. They think I am hilarious, so they’re my best audience ever. Most of all, they trust me implicitly to help make things better. And I always do.

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.

GUEST BLOG POST: Sex and the Tired New Parents -- by Sherry Amatenstein, author, The Complete Marriage Counselor

Parenthood is a game changer for couples on the intimacy front, especially when they've spent years along together. Distancing patterns can set in soon after the birth. The husband feels left out, a third wheel, while the wife's primary emotion concerning her spouse is irritation at his lack of understanding for what she's experiencing. The dissonance is an underground burr, with both parties becoming more and more estranged. It's essential for couples to summon the energy to bring fresh eyes to the deadlocked situation. Putting aside an evening to reminise about the past and recall amorous nights and romantic holidays can be a springboard to creating a blueprint to carve out "alone time" on on ongoing basis.

Family life and mind-bending sex are not easily compatible. After years on your own timetable, suddenly you can't attack each other with abandon in every room of the house. Additionally, parents should guard against becoming too inhibited to role model for their children what a health sexual partnership can look like. This isn't about recommending blatant shows of affection in front of the children, but you want the young'uns to have role models for passion and parenting.

Couples must make a real effort to remain enthuiastic sex partners lest they devolve into being co-parents and nothing more. This means doing things that don't involve the children - anything from enagaging in volunteer work to enrolling in dance classes. And learn new sex tricks together - buy videos and toys, read erotica together (more Anais Nin than Penthouse), have a night of prolonged foreplay. These tricks do necessitate having a lock on the bedroom door!

Sherry Amatenstein, LMSW, is a couples therapist at Washington Square Institute in New York City and author of THE COMPLETE MARRIAGE COUNSELOR: Relationship-Saving Advice from America's Top 50 + Couples Therapists (Adams, Jan. 2010). Her website is www.marriedfaq.com.