Y Community? -- By Laura Houston

When I moved to New York City from a small farm in Oregon, I naturally felt out of place. It was a tough adjustment being a new mom in a strange, crowded, loud city without my network of friends around me – friends who would come over in an instant if I needed help or a break. As I elbowed my way into a new social network in Manhattan, many neighbors, mothers, and friends suggested joining a family gym. But as a rule, I hate gyms. My workouts in the Northwest centered on gardening, hiking, kayaking, and running. I like the outdoors. I like all kinds of weather. I like hard work. In Oregon, I easily found communities of people who felt the same way and enjoyed the same things, and I bonded with people naturally out of mutual interest.

I am the sort of person who makes friends easily under most circumstances, and thanks to groups like Motherhood Later Than Sooner and Upper West Side Moms, I’ve met some great women. We gather on playgrounds. We have coffee after playschool. We share sitters, housekeepers, doctors, and lawyers. But regardless of our network of resources and information, a group of mothers is not always enough to call a community. After all, as mothers of young children we are pretty frazzled. We can’t often reach out and offer support to one another because we are barely making it ourselves. It’s hard to create a kinship of reliable support just due to the logistics of the city alone.

So how does one go about creating a community for the family? Churches, mosques, temples and synagogues are a good start, but if you don’t practice those religions, you’re out of luck. Plus, I want a more diverse community. I like to meet and get to know all kinds of people going through all kinds of situations. But they have to have some things in common: they want to be healthy, they have interests, and they want to form relationships with other people.

That’s difficult to do on a small island where there are more than 71,000 people per square mile. It’s ironic with all these people crowded together that so many mothers admit to feeling lonely and isolated. And mothers have a particularly hard time in New York – especially if they are stay-at-home moms who are raising the kids themselves – sans full-time nannies.

Last week I met a woman named La-Vena Francis. She was a single, teen-age mother living in Brooklyn, and she was determined to do the right thing for her child while trying to find community for herself. When her son was six-years old, he began showing signs of childhood obesity, and she could not to let that happen. She knew her son loved the water, and she knew she wanted him to be safe, so she joined the YMCA and signed him up for swim lessons.

“That’s how I became connected,” La-Vena told me, “I became connected with the community the Y had to offer, with my son, and with myself because I started taking classes, too.”

Two birds. One stone.

When La-Vena first moved to this country as a little girl, she did not live in a safe neighborhood. There weren’t many places she could play without fear. She said the Flatbush YMCA was a refuge, so that’s where she went after school to take gymnastics. Then, as a teenage mom, she returned with her son, introducing him to health and wellness, to male mentors, and to a community that would help her help him.

Twelve years later La-Vena’s son is 18-years old, attends college, and teaches swimming lessons at a YMCA. And La-Vena now works at the North Brooklyn YMCA as a director. She also met her husband there, and now her two youngest kids attend for daycare, classes, and fun.

There are many stories I’ve heard from mothers, especially single mothers, about the kinship, the solace, and the support they discovered at their local gym. The YMCA organization itself is an anthology of hope, help and health from members of its community. It offers more than just fitness classes, and it has free babysitting in their child watch program, so mothers can workout, get a break from the kids, and perhaps have a conversation with an adult that lasts more than four sentences.

As hard as I have tried in New York to create my own community, I might have to borrow someone’s for a while and see if I can fit in. I believe I need to take some pottery classes, some yoga classes, and maybe get over my distaste for public swimming pools, and gym locker rooms while I’m at it. My life has changed not only as a mother who is living in a new city, but now I find I am becoming a different kind of person who has to find new interests in a city where I can’t plant a garden, and in a life where there is little time for solace. I’m also no longer as fit as I used to be. There are times when I can’t seem to keep up. So it’s time to buck up and join up. And see where this inspired community leads me.

Some Friendly Advice -- by Jamie

I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a busy single mother who doesn’t have time to waste—or simply the result of being older and wiser—but ever since Jayda was born, I’ve been more selective about which friendships I choose to foster. I consider myself very fortunate to have so many wonderful friends from every stage of my life—high school, college, my “single in the city” days, former jobs, and even my few years of motherhood. But it’s quality, not quantity that counts to me. And at this point in my life, when it comes to friendship, I only give as good as I get.

Over a year ago, I met a woman at my gym who, aside from our shared stair-climbing workouts, I had very little in common with; she was single, childless, rough-around-the-edges, and after devoting herself to her ex-boyfriend for years, now had no girlfriends to speak of. But she appeared to have a good heart, and she needed a friend, so I let her into my life. The woman latched on to me, called me incessantly, and, despite all the hours of listening and support I gave to her, never gave anything back to me; she was simply self-consumed. When we got into an argument a few months ago, I easily made the choice to “let her go,” as I don’t have the time or energy for people who drag me down and never do anything to lift me up.

That said, friendships are a complicated thing…and sometimes “letting go” of someone who really isn’t “good for you” isn’t as easy at sounds. For instance, my mother has been friends with one particular woman for decades—a woman whom I almost consider to be part of our family. But over the last several years, there have been countless fights between these women, tons of miscommunication issues, and lots of hurt feelings. In the last few weeks, things came to a head, and my mother was attacked by this woman for a long list of silly offenses my mother had purportedly committed. When this woman called my mom, my mom was put on the defensive, and hung up the phone crying; she has been miserable about the situation ever since. Everyone tells my mother to “let this woman go,” and I personally advised her that she shouldn’t be friends with someone who makes her feel so uncomfortable—someone whom she has to step on eggshells around, and always be fearful of offending. But dumping a long-time friend isn’t so easy. There’s history there, and lots of emotional investment. Sometimes it’s even a “pride” issue: We want people to like us—especially our old friends—and we sometimes bend over backwards to “fix things,” even when we’re not the ones who broke them.

I’m trying to teach my daughter, Jayda, the value of good friends—and what she should expect from them. Fortunately, she knows a bunch of sweet, little girls whom she likes to play with, and I try to foster these relationships by organizing play dates and encouraging Jayda to be a good friend to her friends. But there’s one little girl at Jayda’s day care who has been a source of angst for both of us. This girl is a close friend of one of Jayda’s best friends, and, as is often the case with threesomes, jealousy issues and conflicts have arisen between the girls. Jayda has told me on many occasions that this girl is “not nice” to her. And several times in the last few months, there have been notes on Jayda’s daily progress sheet informing me that my normally-well-behaved daughter has pinched or pushed “a classmate.” Upon pressing Jayda for details, I’ve learned that Jayda’s attacks have all been toward this particular girl, and Jayda always prefaces her confessions with the fact that this girl was “not nice.” I spoke to Jayda’s teacher, who told me there was nothing to worry about, but I still felt the need to speak to Jayda about the situation. I told her not to spend time with this girl, and to, instead, hang out with girls who were nice to her and treated her well. I stressed that friends should respect one other and make each other feel good—not hurt each other physically, or hurt each other’s feelings. She seemed to “get” it and, lately, has been proudly informing me that she’s been hanging out with “good” friends, and offering the names of a few kids whom I know treat her well.

Recently, I’ve started planning Jayda’s upcoming third birthday party, and asked my daughter which of her classmates she wanted to invite. After offering the name of her “best friend” and a few other nice girls from her class, Jayda rattled off her former nemesis’s name, too. Huh? She says they’re friends now. And the other morning, Jayda waited for this girl in the parking lot so they could hold hands and walk into day care together. I’m not sure if this truce is going to last forever, but for now, I’m hoping the kids have truly worked things out. As I said before, sometimes it’s not so easy to let go of a friend…and sometimes, if the friend turns out to be a decent one (as I hope this little girl will be), you find out you don’t have to, after all. But in the long run, spending time with people who make you feel good about yourself is what counts the most. And I just hope Jayda—and my mother, too—will figure that out.

Patience is a Vrtue...When Parenting or Dating -- by Jamie

Before I became a single mother by choice, I was a highly-experienced serial dater with very specific intentions. No matter how I’d first “encountered” my potential suitor—be it in-person, or online—I always pushed for our first date to occur ASAP. Even if I’d clearly felt a connection with a guy after speaking to him in line at Starbucks, or as a result of the emails he’d sent me on JDate, I kept to my agenda: we needed to have a phone conversation quickly after our initial contact, and we had to meet in person as soon as our calendars were clear. My reasoning came from experience: I’d often gotten excited about a guy just from his flirtatious emails, or from a brief but memorable encounter that I’d replayed over and over in my mind, only to discover that we had no chemistry when we finally went out on a date. So, rather than build up my anticipation for a date that could, ultimately, disappoint me, I eagerly sought a face-to-face meeting as quickly as possible, to really gauge a guy’s potential.

This technique worked well for me when I was single, and on a quest to find Mr. Right. I had the flexibility to be spontaneous and have a date on the fly, as well as plenty of spare time for a very social social life. With nothing better to concentrate on (aside from work and working out!), I focused on fast-tracking my dating. After a good date, I’d often find myself obsessively waiting for the man to call or email me. It was hopeless for me to divert my attention, or to just be patient, while my all-consuming desire to be in a relationship took over. Even when I was getting attention from a guy, and he seemed interested in going out on more dates, it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t stay “in the moment,” and just enjoy dating for what it was…I kept wondering where things were leading, and if we’d have a future together. Before I decided to have a baby on my own, I was always hoping to get to the point where my life was entrenched with Mr. Right’s, and, ultimately, I never got there.

As a mom, it’s easy to get impatient with my daughter. Toddlers find wonder in the smallest things, and I often find Jayda dawdling to pick up a rock while we’re walking to the car, or stopping and staring at the people in a crowd we’re trying to push our way through. In addition, Jayda is now at the age where she constantly insists, “I do it myself!” which can sometimes mean that a simple task will take three times as long to achieve. When we’re in a rush, it’s hard for me to relax and just let Jayda be Jayda, and take her time. But as we both get older, I’m becoming more successful at it. I’m learning to be patient. I’m learning to be ok with letting things evolve on their own (or on Jayda’s own!). It’s a good lesson for dating, too.

A few weeks ago, Jayda and I went to a fair in a neighboring town. It was a beautiful day, and Jayda enjoyed her pay-one-price wristband by hopping on ride after ride after ride. At one point, while I watched Jayda circle around endlessly on a motorized car next to a slightly-older girl, the man beside me began chatting with me about our children. By the time the ride had ended, I’d discovered that he was a single father, and was raising his daughter on his own. We wound up walking around the fair together, with our girls, for quite some time, and it was clear to both of us that we’d made a connection. When it was time for us to leave, we exchanged business cards, and promised to talk again. And we have…through a flurry of emails—lengthy ones, written when our kids are asleep, or in daycare. Slowly, but surely, we’re getting to know each other. We’ve discussed meeting for lunch—but we both can’t seem to find the time to do so in the near-future. And so, we continue to write, and continue to “hope” to talk on the phone soon (there never seems to be time for that, either), and nothing more. And you know what? It’s enough. Because, as a single mom, my life is quite full, and while I’d love some male companionship, I don’t “need” to find Mr. Right right now. I’m not even in a hurry to find out if this man has the potential to be my Mr. Right. He’s kind. He’s funny. And I anticipate his emails…but I don’t obsess over them. I have some patience now. And it makes being a mom—and a dater—much easier.