"Talking Terrier"...and Other Conversations - By Cara Potapshyn Meyers

 I’ve had my dog, Max, for over 13 years. When you’ve known anything that long, you can pretty much “read their mind.” Max and I have our own ways of communicating. His moans, whines, woofs and barks all mean something different. My son is constantly asking me, “Mommy? What is Maxi saying?” I will tell him what I assume Maxi wants. My son will then ask, “How do you know what he wants?” I tell him that I’m “Talking Terrier,” (Maxi is a Terrier breed). My son has been constantly intrigued.

From age eight months until approximately four years ago, my son and I took American Sign Language (ASL) classes together. We unfortunately stopped taking (ASL) classes due to scheduling difficulties. Up until then, though, we were both getting more proficient in communicating with each other via sign language. In fact, starting next school year, my son’s school is offering American Sign Language as an option to take in learning a second language. I’m enrolling him in the class immediately. Especially with all of his reading and writing issues. It can only help him with his communication skills later in life, if necessary.

Somewhat incidentally, my son has both remembered and has been asking me how to sign various things in American Sign Language lately. I like this for a variety of reasons. My son has Auditory Processing Disorder. One of the fundamental techniques in helping those with this disorder is eye contact. Coincidentally, one of the key actions needed to communicate using ASL is to engage in eye contact when signing. ASL forces eye contact so that the person you are signing to can interpret what you are saying. My son needs to engage in eye contact more, even when speaking verbally. If he gets in the habit of engaging in eye contact, whether via ASL or verbal communication, it will ultimately stimulate his neurochemical imbalance to “reorganize” itself. His verbal communication is guaranteed to improve.

Another “type” of communication has also emerged throughout this past year with my son. My son seems to have matured exponentially. I can almost visualize the hormonal surges washing over his brain. We have had so many mature conversations; I sometimes have to tone down what I say so that my choice of vocabulary is not completely “over his head.” His thought process is mind-boggling. And I don’t think it is because he is a smart kid. I think it has to do with other factors.

One of those is that my son is an only child. Only children are unique in that they spend a large part of their time either communicating with or listening to adult conversations. This helps them develop more sophisticated vocabulary and converse in a more mature way. One example I have is that I referred to my son as “tenacious,” and told him that it meant that he doesn’t give up. He keeps on working until something is finished. He has continued to remember that word and it’s meaning from months ago.

Another example was when he was at karate this past week. The word of the week was “integrity.” Putting aside the fact that my son cannot read the word integrity, I wanted him to try to understand what the word meant and to internalize it. I asked him if he knew what the word “integrity” meant. He said, “I have to go ask Sensei.” His Sensei gave him a watered-down version of the real definition. The Sensei said that it meant to be honest. He is correct, but “integrity” is much more than that and way more complex. While my son was questioning what his Sensei’s definition was, I took out my iPhone dictionary App and looked up the actual definition. The actual definition is:

Integrity: adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty

Yeah...try explaining that to an almost 8 year-old. So when my son came back from speaking with his Sensei, and said me that “integrity” meant “honesty,” I told him that his Sensei was correct, but that the true definition meant much, much more. I explained that it means being the best person you can possibly be, both to yourself and with others, and that honesty was an important part of that. We drove home having this whole discussion about all of the times he felt he displayed integrity. I swore I felt like I was having a conversation with an “almost adult.” You practically have to shake the cobwebs out of your head to grasp the complexity of these conversations sometimes.

I know my son is bright, but I am also aware that there are other influences in school that he has picked up in his learning. He relates well to his teachers and tutors because they are adults. And I very often speak to my son as an “almost adult.” He is used to engaging in more mature conversations. Part of me, though, wishes he would just slow down and talk about “kid stuff” with me. I feel as if he is rushing himself through his youth. Then, again, I, as an only child, never felt “out of place” speaking maturely with other adults. My difficulty was relating to my peers. That was mostly due to the fact that my parents never went out of their way to socialize me with other children. I was somewhat sequestered. I enrolled my son in Mommy and Me classes as early as 3 months old most likely because of that! I was determined to make sure those classes helped to socialize him! And helped it has! My son has been taking age appropriate classes, continuously, of his choice, throughout all of these years. I surmise that coupled with his extraordinary social nature, this kid has absolutely no fear of socializing with his peers! I truly think he has the best of both worlds. Although he still needs a little practice “Talking Terrier!” But that will come with time...I’d give it another year!

Time for Transitioning - By Cara Potapshyn Meyers

 It’s almost the end of the school year. Summer will officially be here in a week. It is time to get ready for “transitioning.”

To me, “transitioning” means making changes, both good and also a little burdensome. One thing I adore about summer is the longer days. Casual weekends. Less structure. Freedom to just “be.”

It also means a break from the stress of my son’s school and after school schedule. A break from the stress of homework and finding non-threatening ways to encourage getting the homework done. A break from the frantic race to get my son to school on time. A break from the seemingly unending “mundane.”

But with sending our son to day camp come some additional “burdens.” Instead of daily homework will be almost daily laundry. Lots of stain remover. Remembering to pack certain camp items on certain days. Sunscreen, ad nauseum. Bug spray and anti-itch remedies that actually work. And no after camp activities. Perhaps a dunk in our local pool, instead, which certainly is not a burden, especially on wickedly hot days!

I’m not sure I’m quite ready for this transitioning. I AM ready for my son to finish Second Grade. I gladly welcome the break from the insane homework. But I think I need a little vacation between school ending and day camp starting the very next week. The forms that need to be filled out. Medical forms as well. Making sure that I have at least 10 bathing suits because my son needs to take 2 to camp each day. I am desperately hoping that my son will still fit into some of the camp shirts we “accumulated” last year. Otherwise, the one camp shirt they provide for the campers needs to be washed e v e r y   s i n g l e  
 d a y.

I also need to transition the trunk of my car. Every summer I restock my first aid kit. I make sure I have plenty of water resistant bags to collect impromptu wet clothing from swimming excursions or water fights at a friend’s house. It also means going through the bag of clothes I keep in my trunk and take out the fall/winter/outgrown clothes and replace them with some summer items, including shoes, crocs and a rain jacket. And towels. You never know when you need extra towels.

Speaking of towels, I have surrendered sending my son to camp with expensive, colorful, monogrammed beach towels. For three years in a row now, I have had these nice towels “taken” from my son, never to be seen again. With my son’s full name monogrammed on them! In BOLD block letters! Two inches in height!! This year the nice beach towels go to the beach or the pool. Instead, my son is going to camp with old, ratty, light color towels with his name boldly printed on each side with a black laundry marker. If anyone wants them, they can have them. They were almost ready to become rags anyway.

Summer also means having to go through my and my son’s summer clothing to see what still fits and what can be given away. It also means filling our closets with the summer wear and putting our bulkier clothing into drawers or other closets. Same with shoes and coats. Right now I have in my closet cashmere sweaters mixed in with sleeveless tops. What’s wrong with this picture? I also buy clothing for my son “off season.” There’s only one problem. I often forget that I bought him certain items at greatly reduced prices, shove them in the “to grow into” drawer, and pull out 3 of the same item come next season. Which is not an entirely a waste because the “doubles” can be used for the car bags come the end of summer.

Finally, there are the “pool bags.” Expired sunscreens and insect repellants need to be tossed and replenished. Goggles and sunglasses for my son need to be checked to make sure they still fit. Various sundries need to be gone through and updated. Even the pool bags need to be inspected for overuse. I almost feel like I have to remember to replenish diaper bags after an outing!

All this transitioning for 10 weeks of summer.

But ain’t it grand?!

My Big Little Guy by Robin Gorman Newman

Seth is growing up in a flash before my teary eyes.

Second grade will soon come to an end, and this week, parents were invited into this classroom to watch a year-end slide compilation created by Seth's teacher.  It was so immensely touching and well done...from the choice of heartfelt music to the overall presentation.  Songs from the Little Mermaid and Beaches had me all choked up.  I didn't expect it.  But, what struck me the most from the experience was the fullness of my son's life when I'm not with him.  As I strive to be a stimulated (if not overwhelmed) stay at home working, multi-tasking mom, jumping back in forth between personal/family and professional pursuits, Seth is creating a life of his own.

He has friends he plays with.  Teachers who engage him.  Bus drivers who transport him.  Experiences that enrich him.  And, he's only 8.  There is so much more to come.

While I was aware of the special in-school ceremonies, occasions and outside field trips to places like the local firehouse, police station and children's hospital, I was truly taken by the rich array of activities, and the fact that from day to day, he is occupied filling his young mind with the vastness of the world.  His school is  wonderful, and we are hugely fortunate to have such good public education available to us.  That was definitely a consideration when deciding where to live, knowing our goal was to one day have a family.

As Seth continues to mature, he will have more 'n more adventures and experiences outside the home, with and without us....both good 'n bad. 

He'll meet kids and adults he doesn't like (he's already encountered what he calls "the bully girls" during recess), and will learn to navigate the complex world of relationships.

He'll learn about romantic love.  He has had a "girlfriend" since kindergarten, and one day, he'll have a serious girlfriend and even have sex.  It's hard me me to wrap my brain around that notion, as I help dress him each morning for school, and he gets a kick out of giving me glimpses of his buff little butt....which will no doubt become the object of desire of women when he's grown.  

He'll establish priorities.  He already knows what is important to him and how he likes to help others, whether it's assisting the lifeguards at our community pool or standing up for other kids (as one  mom told me at his class this week), who are having a hard time for whatever reason.

He'll ultimately decide his profession of choice.  At this point in time, if you were to ask, he'd state emphatically fireman, followed by FBI agent, SWAT team member, etc. 

He'll one day have a dog.  On an almost daily basis, he asks my husband and I if we'll ever get a dog.  He adores animals in general, and since he also loves police, he'd welcome a german sherphard, which he would raise as if it's a member of the K-9 force.  But, Marc and I have no plans to get a dog.....we currently have a cockatiel, and that's enough in our book.

I could go on 'n on about all that life potentially holds for him, but for now, I'm grateful to still be able to hold his 50lb trim body in my arms and on my lap, and that he still likes to cuddle and craves my good night kisses and hugs.  No matter how old he is, I will never stop taking pleasure in that, and I hope one day, he'll return my hugs with a huge muscular bear hug when he's a man, and I'm an old woman, looking back on the years well spent helping to create the fine human being that Seth has turned out to be.

Back to School Again by Cyma

For some reason, going back to school-time this year has been less angst-filled than I anticipated; in fact, it appears to be lessening each year. And, while the exuberant joy and pride I once felt for this exciting new phase of my life is nearly gone, it’s being replaced by a quiet, calming (still joyful) ‘same old, same old’ feeling – the kind that I think I’ll one day come to mourn, when it comes to an end as my children embark on their own paths - to college.

 On Day One last week, I forgot the prerequisite opening speech at school (for parents), and sent my daughter to school on the bus alone; my daughter’s bus was 15 minutes early and we screamed at the top of our lungs to catch the bus driver’s attention as he sped by our bus stop and nearly missed us; later that same day, my son had a panic-attack on the playground, but other than that, everything went well!  In fact, it went so well that I’m just humming along into Week Two.


It seems to me that the more I do this routine of child-rearing, the easier it gets and the more confident I am.  I feel more grounded than ever.  Finally, I feel like one of “them,” after years and years of feeling like one of “us.” I can converse more easily with any number of women about children, in general, without passing judgment on their looks, actions or dress.

I no longer stare with anger at the mother whose child is out of control in the supermarket. I no longer criticize women I see behaving badly toward their children, or cringe like I used to when I hear a screaming infant.  Once, these experiences reminded me of my own painful childhood and I could do nothing but try to block them out, just to cope. Now, I provide supportive looks toward mothers who have good intentions, but are short on patience and cope-ability.  I have a much greater awareness of how mothers, in general, juggle enormous responsibilities while working .  To me, that equates to working (at home) + working (at careers) = double working. It is amazing that we can even get up each morning and start all over again.  (I think the business of mothering and nurturing remains underrated. We should demand more.)


Now, I can share a laugh with any mother I meet about how our children drive us to the ends of our…..ropes and just walk away feeling a sense of camaraderie, rather than a sense of competitiveness.

I can imagine that things will heat up again in our home life; they always do. But my intention to live without excessive stress is actually happening right before my eyes. As a new older mother, I’ve found my rhythm, stride and self. Maybe I’ll send myself back to school, again, too…………………..

Time -- by Gina

This week my father-in-law was in the emergency room for severe stomach pain. He is better, thankfully, but it has been a crazy week for me since my husband has been working long shifts, and I was the only one available to deal with “Grampa”: visiting, picking up stuff from his apartment, picking him up upon being discharged, then driving him around town for his various errands. It was an unseasonably warm and sunny weekend and not what I really wanted to be doing, but of course I had no choice.

Then there were all of the other “things to do” for the week: creating and mailing out my daughter’s birthday party invitations, shuttling her around to school and activities, celebrating my husband’s birthday, two work events, late meetings, working full-time, and all of the other usual stuff (laundry, dishes, etc.) Not to mention two separate emergency deliveries to my niece (backpack forgotten in my car) and nephew (change of clothing after a classmate spilled chocolate milk all over him.)

Yet, when a good friend who is going through some tough times asked me why I hadn’t called her in a while, I couldn’t come up with a good excuse. “I’ve been so busy” sounds like such a cop-out…I mean, everyone is busy, right? But when I actually sat down and thought about why I hadn’t called, I realized it wasn’t just that I didn’t have time, I never seemed to have the RIGHT time. By that I mean, I never seem to have “phone time”, that precious luxury that I am only now realizing existed only in my pre-mommy world. I have always had very busy jobs, so I always (and still do) had to rush my friends off the phone with a “Can I call ya later, work is crazy? Thanks!” I’d wait until after dinner when I could sprawl out on my couch and really catch up…laughing and having lots of good girl talk. Now, as the mother of a 3 ½ year old, those opportunities never seem to come anymore. I still entertain the thought that I will be able to find time for a good chat after Gianna’s asleep, but since she has trouble falling asleep and staying in her own bed, that phone time never seems to come for me. I spend the night going up and down the stairs to her room, as she calls me to come stay with her because she is afraid, or because she “has too much energy.” Then when I think she is finally asleep, I am exhausted from working all day and parenting all evening. Also, once the house is quiet, I feel obligated to speak low so as not to wake my daughter. This is also the time I do a load of laundry, straighten up the house and get ready for the next day.

The only phone calls I seem to get a chance to make on weeknights is to return calls, mostly to my family and my in-laws, arranging visits, exchanging babysitting duties, and checking in on how everyone is feeling.

I made amends with my friend – I devoted a very long phone call to her which thank goodness Gianna cooperated with by going to bed on time. I assured her that although I don’t have the kind of time I used to have, I am still here for her no matter what and will find a way to make time to talk more often (haven’t figured that part out yet…) She doesn’t have children yet but I think she understands - I hope so. When we moms say we don’t have time for something, it isn’t an excuse… it is our reality – that our time is just not our own anymore no matter how many more hours we could use in the day. We can carve out time here and there once our kids are old enough for babysitters but in the meantime, it is a big adjustment and a real balancing act to find time to do the things WE want to do. I have heard it gets easier as our kids get older, but for now, I can only hope that friends understand, just as I am understanding when plans get canceled or my calls go unanswered. I think that is part of being a good friend – being flexible and forgiving – none of us are perfect and we are all doing our best to get as much as we can done in one day. These are the times I wish I could work only part-time, but for now I have to find a way to make it all work.

I have another good friend who had her three children in her early twenties. When I don’t have time for the long gab fests, she understands and lets me slide. I was able to see her for a brief visit recently and it was like no time had passed. Those are the moments you realize that true friendship endures through all the highs and lows of raising children, trying to have a career, and not having enough time for either. We sat in her mom’s kitchen, talking and laughing like we did when we were 17. In those moments, time – be it how much has passed, or how much more of it we wish we had – just doesn’t matter so much…well, at least for a moment, anyway.

Stroller Envy -- by Gina

Hi, my name is Gina Schlagel, and I'm a 41-year old mom with a 3 1/2 year old daughter named Gianna. I am new to the Motherhood Later bloggers, and this is my very first blog. Hope to connect with many of you MLTS Moms in the coming weeks by sharing stories/thoughts I am hoping others can relate to. I welcome your feedback!

It was a couple of days after last week's snowstorm. I was looking for the always rare parking spot near work, and I had just found what I was convinced was the last one in the entire neighborhood. I debated about taking it, as it was a few blocks from my office (and Gianna's pre-school). I always pulled into the temporary drop-off spot at the school, walked her in, then came back out to find a spot on the street. Given the scarcity of parking due to the snow, I figured I would break from the normal routine and grab the spot, even if it meant we'd have a long walk in the drizzly rain.

"Gianna, we're going to walk a little, today, OK?" I was answered with a whiny, "Awww, why?" "Well, Mommy has to grab this spot before it's gone..." No answer. "I know, wanna ride in the stroller!" "Yay," she cried. I figured it would sound like fun to her - we rarely used the stroller anymore and had actually never used it on the typically short walk from the car to the school. Besides, how resourceful can you get - I could walk faster strolling her rather than walking her, I could pull the stroller canopy up over her to keep the drizzly rain off her... this is great, I thought. Why haven't I been doing this all along?

We walked along, but something just didn't feel right. I realized that pushing a stroller while dressed in a suit and heels just felt... well, funny. Silly, almost. I felt almost self-conscious - what if one of my colleagues sees me? Would they too think it looked a bit...well.. out of place? I quickly dismissed the thought as we rounded the corner, thinking, "Oh, who cares what anyone thinks!" As we entered the daycare, I stopped, gleefully announcing to Gianna, "We're here! Time to hop out!" She froze. "But... not HERE!!??", she yelled. What? What's the matter? I saw her gaze land on the open door of her classroom. "They're gonna SEEEEE me! Like the BABIES!" I realized she was mortified at the thought of her classmates seeing her get out of (gasp!) a stroller just like the ones the babies ride in. As I comforted her, "Honey, don't worry, no one is looking at you. Here, get out here, then." I clumsily pushed the stroller back out of the double doors so she could make her stealthy exit outside the building, ensuring no jeering glances from her fellow pre-schoolers. We then walked in calmly as we did every day, no sign of the offending stroller in sight (parked temporarily in the hallway.) I kissed her goodbye as I did every day, and as she went off into class, I now turned my attention to getting the stroller (did I mention it is neon orange?) into the elevator with me up to my office without being spotted by those sneaky kids. I made it into the elevator unseen, entered my floor, strolled down the hall to my office (quickly), and "hid" good ol' Peg Perego in the corner of my office. Whew! I made it.

I felt sorry for Gianna - knowing that she was already, at her young age, worried about what other people thought. At the same time, I was a bit impressed that she picked up on what the norms for her age are and that her peers are indeed judging each other even at three and four. It got me thinking: at what point do our children start worrying about what their peers think of them?

My thoughts then turned selfish...I guess this means no more stroller? I began to mourn the loss of my own freedom...plop her in the stroller and get my errands done, do my mall shopping... were those days over? How will I survive? Who's going to carry all those heavy packages I stuff into the bottom basket, and my heavy handbag I sling over the handles? She was so safe and secure in there, too; now I have to worry about her slipping out of my grasp and running off. And so came the bittersweet acceptance that yes, indeed, my "baby" had outgrown the stroller, both physically and mentally. I, however, was the only only who had not.

Only time will tell if that was definitely our last carefree stroller ride. Maybe I can squeeze a few more long walks out of it in the coming weeks, for old time's sake. I will miss it, not just for the convenience and habit, but more for all it represented: my only child's fleeting "babyhood." Where did the last 3 1/2 years go? And what will the next hold? I am excited to find out as Gianna and I continue to "grow up" together...as I return to the world of full-time, corporate office work, and she readies herself for preschool and soon Pre-K.

Finding Focus -- by Jamie

I’m back in college after an almost 20-year hiatus, and attending my classes has been a bit of a juggling act, between dropping Jayda off at daycare at her designated hour (and not earlier, because I’m trying to save money), and then trying to beat traffic and snag decent street parking near Queens College—to say nothing of the challenges of participating in the classes, and doing the class work, while still freelancing and being a devoted single mom. But one glitch I didn’t expect is that I’d feel like my three-year-old daughter when it comes to studying for my tests: I just can’t focus.

This past December, my mother gave Jayda a LeapFrog computer for Hanukkah. Jayda was thrilled when she unwrapped the gift, and squealed with delight. She then insisted we hook it up right away so she could test it out. I rushed to attach the device to the television as fast as I could, and as soon as I turned it on, Jayda sat in front of her new “puter” and started to play; less than five minutes later she stopped and stood up: “I done!” she announced, and ran off to do one of her puzzles. My mother’s jaw dropped and she turned to me questioningly. I just shrugged; this was normal Jayda-behavior. My daughter rarely focuses on any activity for longer than a few minutes. She doesn’t even like to watch TV for very long…which is probably a very good thing, developmentally
(though at times when I’d love to keep Jayda occupied while I’m cooking dinner or attending to an important task, I don’t always see it that way).

Similarly, Jayda is still too young and “unfocused” to sit through a movie, or any theater performances. When we went to see “Disney on Ice,” she loved it, but by the end of the first act, she was pretty much “over” it, and was much happier walking back and forth to the bathroom with me and visiting the refreshment stand. And on President’s Day, when we attended a 1-hour “Blues Clues Live” show, Jayda eagerly watched for 50 minutes (while periodically digging into her bag of popcorn, turning around to watch the other kids, and chatting with me about the show), and then squirmed off of my lap and announced “I ready to go home now” before ever discovering the last clue.

As a 40-year-old, I’m much more focused than Jayda—I can certainly watch three-hour movies and Broadway shows—and these days I can even sit through a not-so-scintillating two-hour Social Statistics lecture once a week. But when it comes to studying…oh my. Last week, I faced my first big test since returning to college, and preparing for it was a nightmare.

My biggest mistake was sitting by my computer to study. First, there was the “ding” of my incoming emails to distract me…and of course, I had to check every one. And if any of those emails included a Facebook comment, I then logged on to my Facebook account to take a closer look. Talk about a time-suck! Sitting by my computer also tempted me to do my “regular” work—instead of studying. Of course this was work that I did need to do—but not imminently. Now, as a freelancer, I’m used to working from home, but for some reason, studying requires much more discipline from me than working…and I’m more easily distracted from it, no matter what mundane tasks are calling to me; on my study days, I easily found myself “escaping” to do laundry, to clean the bathroom, or to run out “just for a few minutes” to do some food shopping. Anything to avoid my text book. When it’s pre-test time for me, just like Jayda racing from toy to toy at a play date, I find myself moving around my house taking care of anything and everything that isn’t related to college coursework.

Back in my undergraduate years at the University of Michigan, I often studied at night for a few hours—and then met my friends at a college bar afterwards. Thinking back on that astounds me because these days, I can barely keep my eyes open after 9 pm. But I guess the lesson here is that back at the U of M, I rewarded myself for my studying and, ultimately, I have to learn to do that now. I need to find something to inspire myself (other than a Long Island Ice Tea and a chance to see my latest crush) to get through my next studying ordeal. Because I know my unfocused three-year-old also performs better when she gets rewards…and clearly we have a lot in common.

They say as we grow older, regression eventually sets in. True, I’m only 40…but maybe it’s already starting to happen to me, because one thing is for certain—I can sure use a nap right about now!

Back to School -- by Jamie

This was a big week in the education-department for the Levines: Jayda started nursery school, and I registered for some important classes of my own. Both were big milestones for each of us, though Jayda’s transition was far easier than I expect my return to college will be.

Jayda has been at the same day care center since she was 3-1/2 months old. She’s always been ahead of the learning curve, and has been promoted into each of her classes at an earlier age than most of the other kids. Thus, in September, when many of Jayda’s friends (who are slightly older than Jayda) were moved up to the nursery school program, I expected Jayda would be following them. But due to classroom overcrowding and some annoying day care bureaucracy, she lagged behind for awhile. Ultimately, my daughter successfully potty trained, vastly improved her vocabulary, spent much of her time helping the younger kids in her toddler room, and, in sum, displayed what I felt was extreme readiness for nursery school. Fortunately, by the holidays, my relentless hounding of the school’s director finally reaped success, and to my relief, Jayda became the only child allowed to transition to nursery school in January.

Jayda’s first day in nursery school was drama-free for both of us. She took to the ground running—literally—and leapt out of my arms, shouting, “Mommy—LEAVE!” as she ran to join her old friends, who were playing happily in her new classroom. When I came to pick Jayda up in the afternoon, her new teacher informed me that Jayda had had a terrific day, and it had seemed “like Jayda had been in nursery school forever.” As I’d suspected, Jayda’s move into nursery school had been long overdue, and she’d been more than ready to get started there.

I, on the other hand, am likely to have more trouble adjusting to my new classes. I received a B.A. in Communication from the University of Michigan in 1991, and never imagined I’d be going back to college at almost-40-years-old. For more than 15 years, I worked in children’s publishing—as a writer, a school book club editor, a marketer, and a buyer—and have always loved my career. But sadly, as the result of corporate downsizing, I found my job eliminated a year ago. Freelance writing and consulting have kept me financially afloat, but I’m no longer fulfilled by my daily work, nor do I have the job stability I need as a single mother. After much soul-searching, I’ve decided to pursue grad school, specifically for Speech Pathology—a career that would profit from my occupational experiences and strengths, and provide the job-flexibility and salary I need to raise my daughter.

However, I can’t just take the GREs, apply to grad school, and get started on a second career. First, I must fulfill several Speech Pathology-related undergraduate prerequisites. And before I could even register for those classes, I had to apply to (and be admitted to) a special university program. Fortunately, I was accepted to the program at Queens College, and this past week, I met with an advisor to help me select my classes. At this late date (classes start at the end of January), most of the classes I needed were closed, and I was only able to get into two. But that’s a start. And what with commuting to Queens from Long Island twice a week, continuing my freelance work (I still need to bring in as much money as possible), and taking care of my daughter, I guess that’s enough to get my feet wet.

Because I’m a “planner,” it has been my natural inclination to map out my “school plan”—to consider all the work I’ll be doing for my classes, as well as the time I’ll need to spend schlepping back and forth to the campus. But not everything involved with going back to school at my age is so easy to predict. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to listen to a lecture, take copious notes, or study for a test. When it comes to being a student, I’m out of practice—as well as out-of-the-loop in regards to modern-day college practices. Even applying to school this time was a novel experience for me: When I applied to Michigan, I typed out my application and essays on an electric typewriter—and mailed a check to the school. This time, I applied online and simply entered my credit card number. A lot has changed in two decades.

This week, while I waited for my appointment with my advisor at Queens College, I sat in a waiting room with other prospective students, who, technically, were young enough to be my children. And that’s going to be an interesting experience, too. Things may be different in grad school, but right now, while I’m taking my undergraduate classes, I’ll be sharing lecture halls and assignments with young men and women who are literally half my age. And that will definitely be an adjustment—for me and for them, I’m sure. I’m fairly certain none of them will be juggling their studies with mother- or fatherhood, and I’ll be a novelty.

The other day, I told Jayda I was going back to school, and she got very excited about it. She wondered, “Is it a big school?”—like the elementary school we pass on the way to her day care center—and asked, “Will you be going on a school bus?” which is her own personal fantasy. And, of course, she asked if she could “come, too.” There is actually a nice playground outside the Speech Pathology department office building, and I may bring her there to check it out in the spring. While my time at school certainly won’t be full of fun and games like Jayda’s nursery school adventures, hopefully it will still be a positive experience. And I may as well show Jayda some of the fun that can be involved, since nothing—including going back to school—is a solo venture for me anymore.


Back in September, Jayda and I appeared on a local cable TV show in a segment about SMCs. If you’d like to check it out, here are the YouTube links:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehgwxZfhNL8 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYEavdyFDUM http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJ9aaxXA_TA

Whose Homework is This Anyway? -- by Cara

I’m tired of my son’s elementary school. And he just started first grade. I’m still getting over being tired of it from last year, when my son was in Kindergarten. What am I so tired about? Homework. And not just the part of homework that my son has to complete, but the endless, detailed instructions that the PARENTS (read: Mothers) have to complete in order for their child to correctly complete their assignments.

Take, for instance the buldging workbook that came home yesterday along with three different assignments! Supposedly, from what I can gather after reading the instructions on one of the assignments a half dozen times, I am supposed to copy certain “sight words,” preferrably on colored paper, and hang them up all over my house, make “flash cards” of these “sight words,” and run around after my child, while he is home, holding up these cards or pointing to the words hung up in each room and “quiz” him on these particular words! I also have to glue a smaller set of these words in a “Word Wall Book” with the instructions,”Be CAREFUL! Don’t glue the pages together!” What? Am I now in first grade too?!

I don’t get it. I am more than happy to assist my son with writing words, helping him read simple books, and suggest illustrations to complement what he wrote. But all of this copying, taping, pasting...who realistically has time for this in today’s world? And I have just one child! What do parents do who have several children, all of who’s teachers are requesting what will probably amount to an hour’s worth of time copying, cutting, taping and pasting too?! And to top it all off, we were reprimanded! Although it was not stated anywhere in the detailed instructions that all of this had to be handed in the next day, we were sent home a note reminding us that we were supposed to return the pasted,“Word Wall Book” AND the three other lengthy assignments the next day! Tisk, tisk on us! We also didn’t get to hang up “sight words” or make flash cards either! Oh, for shame!!

Last year, at the beginning of school, the Kindergarten teacher asked us to buy a two pocket folder. The PARENTS were given 2 weeks to cover the entire folder, front and back with photos that our children would use in order to create “stories” which would be presented back to us at the end of the year. This little project took me, all totalled, two HOURS to complete! Since our home color copier was not working very well, I had to upload some 20 to 25 photos to an internet photo website where copies were printed and mailed back. I even had to upgrade the cost of shipping to Second Day Priority, so that I would have time to do the SECOND part of this exciting project! Once I received the photos, I then had to group similar photos together, then cut and paste them all over both sides of this “Creativity Folder!” I spent so much time on this thing I took photos of it! And guess what? My son did not use one photo grouping to write his “stories!” I personally spent two hours over two weeks preparing this rediculous folder only to find that my son didn’t want to write about the photos! He had his own creative agenda. Can you say, TOTAL waste of time, money and energy?!

So guess what I am NOT going to do this year? I am NOT going to make colored “site word” cards and place them all over my house. I am NOT going to be making any flash cards and chase my son around, asking him what each card says. And I am NOT playing “Memory Game” every single night to help foster “sight word” recognition, as my child’s teacher puts it, “in a snap!” No, I am not going to do any of that. Unless my son’s teacher would like to come to my home each evening and make my family’s dinner, do the dishes, get lunches ready, put in a load of laundry and also feed and walk my dogs. Well, then it is just not going to get done. Sorry, Ms. First Grade teacher. It is just NOT going to happen in this house!

A Sandwich Generation Day: Cycles of Life

I have blogged on this subject before, and at the risk of being redundant, I feel the need to share my experiences of yesterday.

I am calling it a true "Sandwich Generation" Day. And, I wonder if you can relate. I'd love your feedback and to hear your experiences if you'd like to share.

Like many, I'm sorry to see summer come to an end. We had such a blast at our community pool, and I will really miss it.

Not only do I find the change of season a bit challenging, but yesterday, and this whole week, for that matter, I find myself in a somewhat conflicted emotional state.

Seth started Kindergarten today, and I took him to meet his teacher and to see the classroom and classmates. It feels surreal that he has hit this stage of his education. He loved the school, and got particularly thrilled when he asked the teacher if they go on class trips. She said yes, and the first trip is to a firehouse. Well...she couldn't have said anything better for Seth. Firehouses are his most favorite place in the world.

I am both excited for him and a little melancholy that he is growing up so fast. Part of me likes that there are more and different experiences we can have together, yet I like to cuddle with my little buddy.

It just gets me thinking about how fast time goes in general, and the cycles of life.

After returning from Seth's school, we met my dad at the diner for lunch. He was celebrating his 90th birthday! G-d bless him. I am so eternally grateful to have my dad in my life, despite his health challenges and not feeling up to par. I lost my mom 10 years ago, so his presence in my family's life is all the more treasured. And, my sister and I are planning a surprise birthday luncheon for him this Saturday, with family and friends. I want to savor our time together.

Such major milestones in the life of my son and dad this week!

Leaves me with a lot to think about. But, since I am the queen of overthinking, I'm keeping myself busy so I'm not too alone with my thoughts. The last thing I want to do is get teary eyed, though sometimes a good cry is the best release.

I am both sad and happy. I want to take note and rejoice in each upbeat moment and not let my emotions get the better of me.

Have you ever felt this way?

Keeping Up with the Mother Joneses

I've never considered myself a competitive person. An achiever....yes. Driven.....yes. Perfectionist at times....sure (not that I've succeeded at that, or should want to). Control freak. I do like things a certain way, I admit.

Well, that and more, needs to be abandoned when it comes to parenting, I'm quickly learning.

And, the other thing that I'm learning is not to compare myself or my child to others.

No book comes with parenting, though plenty are written on the subject. When Seth was little, I used to peruse some of them. These days I have little time for that and would sooner reach out to a parenting expert or seasoned mom friend who has been there, done that.

I did both recently after a chat with a mom friend that left me thinking...a lot.

She was speaking about a series of well-regarded books a friend had recommended as learning tools to teach your child when they are very young. And, she applauded how a couple of moms, in particular, who she knows, have used them with their children to teach them to read at a young age, etc.

I wondered what Seth is supposed to be capable of at this time. I spoke with his teacher who said he is progressing as he should in terms of knowing/writing letters, names, numbers, etc. But, I thought, is this enough? Should I be doing more? As a parent, we want our children to succeed. We have high aspirations for them and want to know that we're doing/have done our best.

No doubt there are varying schools of thought on this subject. But, there is something to be said for letting a child be a child. Sure academics are important, and school does seem WAY demanding these days, but quality play time is essential too. And, according to a parenting expert I well respect and have consulted with, at the age of 5, allowing your child's imagination to soar through creative play is something to strive for.

We can expose them to new experiences, and endeavor to share what we think is cool about the world. And, that is important. But, ultimately, they are their own person with interests, strengths, challenges, etc. that we can do our best to support and nuture...and they may not coincide with ours. But, that's ok.

One day our kids will fly on their own, and their childhood should be just that. A time of fun, games, love...and certainly learning...but it shouldn't be about "keeping up with the mother jones." And, I'm not saying that this mom friend or others I know view parenting as a contest. I'm just speaking for myself in that I need to...and want to... focus on Seth and his uniqueness...and let his natural abilities soar. Comparing him will surely not do either of us any good.

The Half Day Deal

I ask you....what is the deal with a half day in kindergarten?

Seth starts this coming fall, and he will have either two or three days when he only goes for three hours. He is in pre-K now, and goes for five hours.

We are not happy about this.

He will be going to a different school, come fall, and unless we want to send him to a private school, this is the way it will be.

He's been in nursery and now pre-K from 9AM - 2PM since he turned 3.5, and it's been really good for him. He's learning, socializing, growing, etc....in ways that I have to imagine he wouldn't were he home during those hours. Although, when I was a kid, I didn't go to nursery school, and I turned out "ok" (I think). So, no doubt, there are different schools of thought.

But to go from more to less doesn't make a lot of sense to me. And, this isn't true of all school districts. We live in Great Neck, NY, and it's the case here.

So, now we're trying to figure out what to do with Seth when he gets home early those days. We can sign him up for individual programs elsewhere, i.e. gym, but it won't be the same continuity he'd have in a full day school program.

I'm just somewhat perplexed as to why the school here is set up this way.

How is it where you live? And, what is your feeling on full day kindergarten?

Just needed to vent............thanks for listening. :)

A Life of His Own

We went to an Open House at Seth's pre-K last night, and I always find myself feeling very sentimental when I go to his school. It's like I become that much more aware of the life that Seth has outside of me and his home. His new teacher spoke highly of him, and others in the school commented on how he proudly walks into the classroom wearing his favorite firetruck polo shirt. And, how he's always smiling. And, how much he grew in height from last year....since he went to the same school.

He's becoming his own little person, and I can see a greater level of maturity in him. He's not a baby anymore (though he'll always be my little guy), and he's already made his first classmate friend. He came home with a note in his school bag recently from the teacher. It said that Seth has become friends with a boy named Nathan, and that perhaps we'd like to do a playdate after school. I was given the name/number of his mother. We spoke, and got the boys together. It was so cute to see them engage in their own dialogue, even as it relates to school...an experience that we don't share with them.

I think back to the Mommy & Me class days...and I feel like a broken record when I say this...but time truly does goes fast. While a part of me misses when Seth was little and could fit in my arms, there is a lot to be said for observing his evolution. I feel so priviledged to witness the growth of his life and to be able to make whatever contributions I can toward his development. Parenthood really is a special role, and I can see how parents look back when their children are grown and comment that their kid(s) are the best thing they ever did.