The Big Reveal...by Liimu

I know I should have been happy enough to have a healthy baby that I didn't even need to know the gender. I am painfully aware of the fact that many women my age want children but can't have them without the help of fertility treatments, if they're lucky enough to have them at all. And so yes, I felt guilty admitting that I had an opinion on the gender of my unborn child. But dammit, after 8 years raising three strong-willed, melodramatic, girly-girls,8 years of arguing about whether they could wear the same dress five days in a row, 8 years of trying to brush through three thick heads of hair, 8 years of princesses and pink and Hannah Montana, I wanted a boy.

Interestingly enough, my husband claimed he would be happy either way. He said he knew how to do girls, was content to just go on ahead and do another one. Was, in fact, tired of getting his hopes up only to have them dashed (as we both had the past couple of times) and expected a girl. I, on the other hand, was not giving up without a fight. First, there was the dream. For those of you who don't remember, check out my blog titled, "The Psychic Sister." Then, there was the fact that this pregnancy felt so different from the others - no tell-tale metallic taste in my mouth, no sweets cravings, no crappy skin breakouts. On the contrary, this was the first pregnancy where people (including my husband) were telling me I was "glowing." I had never experienced that before and assumed it was a cockamamie myth some guy had concocted to get women to get pregnant despite the weight gain, stretchmarks and painful labor. But sure enough, here was my frightfully honest husband telling me I looked like I was constantly bathed in soft lighting. I even tried the old strand of hair tied to a wedding band, and it went back and forth, just like it should for a boy. I was convinced.

All that being said, I was still not patient enough to wait nine months. I hadn't been with any of my other pregnancies, why start now? I did want it to be special, though, this being our last time. I convinced my husband that it would be a good idea for us to have the ultrasound technician seal our baby's gender in an envelope, and we would then open it over a lovely, romantic dinner. Flash forward to this past Thursday. Our ultrasound technician did exactly that, and then handed the envelope over to my husband, who promptly hid it so I wouldn't be able to ruin the surprise (I'm not THAT impatient...but still, better safe than sorry, I suppose).

That night, on our way to dinner, I was already getting phone calls and texts from people wondering if we had done our Big Reveal. (I mentioned we have had three daughters in the past 8 years, didn't I?) So, we sit down to a lovely dinner at Ristorante San Marco in Ambler, PA. (I highly recommend it if you're a fan of Italian and happen to be in the area.) I'm ready to bust out the envelope and here is my husband, reading the menu like it's date night. Needless to say, I told him that he needed to fork it over. "I'm a trained actress," I explained. "I can keep a poker face."

It was hard, though, I must admit. After months of praying for a boy, months of talking myself down from the ledge in case it wasn't a boy, even apologizing to my unborn baby for having such a strong opinion on what his/her gender should be, I wasn't prepared for how happy I would be to see the little ultrasound picture the technician had put in the envelope, annotated with the words, "I have a peepee, Mom! I'm a boy!" (Yes, that's really what it said.)

As for my husband, who was fine either way and entirely prepared for another girl, well I think I saw tears well up in his eyes. I know there are folks who will think this blog is slightly sexist. Maybe not. I hope not. We have three beautiful daughters and we love them all to pieces. But we are very much looking forward to seeing what it's like to raise a son, and our whole family is completely overwhelmed with joy and gratitude that we're going to get to do exactly that.

And as I brushed my daughters' hair the next day, I have to admit I was relieved to know that there wouldn't be another head added to the mix, waiting for me to tackle its tangles. If there had been, I would have been up to the challenge, but I am going to relish every new facet of life this little baby boy is going to bring.

Until next time!

There Goes the Bride by Cara Potapshyn Meyers

 This past Sunday was my Brother-in-Law’s wedding - my husband’s brother. I was invited, but chose not to go for many obvious reasons. My only wish was that I hadn’t been very ill because it gave my husband the perfect excuse as to why I wasn’t there. My husband is an awful liar. You could tell when he fibs a mile away. So, unfortunately he would be correct in telling family and friends why I didn’t attend the wedding. Bummer. I would have at least have enjoyed knowing how uncomfortable he would have been having to produce a reason why his “wife” wasn’t at his brother’s wedding. Oh well...there will be other occasions.

My Sister-in-Law (wife of my husband’s OTHER brother) will be having her second child in April. I am pretty sure that I will be quietly absent from that milestone event as well. He’ll have to come up with some type of story for that occasion, I’m sure.

And then there are all the Holidays in between. I assume my son will be spending all of the Jewish religious ones at my in laws. I’ll get my son and take him to visit very close friends for Christmas and Easter. But what to do about Thanksgiving? I’ve made the largest turkey I could find, to feed 20 plus people for just about every Thanksgiving for 15 years now. I guess those days are over.

My husband and I will have to trade off on Thanksgiving. Since my son went to the wedding, perhaps my husband will allow me to take my son to my best friend’s house for Thanksgiving this year. It will be very festive as my best friend’s birthday is very close to the Thanksgiving Holiday, so she celebrates her birthday then as well.

It is hard when you are breaking away from your spouse while having to go through the Holidays, especially with a child. The child is used to everyone being together and having a wonderful time. Now the child gets tossed between one family and another. It’s confusing and painful...for everyone involved.

Being an only child, with now both parent’s deceased, and no close relatives who live nearby, I grew up spending many, many Holidays with my best friend and her family. I recently asked her if it would be okay to resume that historical pattern. She was delighted. A little overwhelmed, but delighted. I kind of get the “warm fuzzies” just thinking about all of the wonderful times in the past that we’ve spent together during the Holidays. Like her Dad serving us spiked Eggnog when we were only 16! We couldn’t understand why the Eggnog tasted so good, nor why we were so giddy hanging ornaments on her tree! It brings back such warm and loving feelings!

My son is the same age as my best friend’s son, who is adopted. My friend chose to become a single Mom right before she turned 40. I wanted to have my first child before I turned 40. The stars aligned in the heavens for both of us! We both have boys and they are only 3 months apart in age! And both boys think they are “cousins!” In a way, they really are. They see each other far more frequently than my son’s actual cousins.

So maybe this can work, this Holiday swapping thing? As I’ve experienced, families don’t have to be related to be close and have fun! I think I’ve had more enjoyable and exciting Holidays spent with close friends than with relatives who critique your cooking!

I guess another chapter of my life is unfolding. Just like going down the tall Mayan water slide at the Atlantis Resort with my son, last month. I am ready to experience another incredible ride. The ride through the Holiday maze! I better hold on tight for this one, too!

GUEST BLOG POST: Forced to Lie About My Age - by Elizabeth Coplan, author

I don’t color my hair. Have never done Botox. I do tweeze the gray from my eyebrows and my chin, and, as the mother of two sons, I’ve earned every line on my face. When I remember where I last put them, I wear reading glasses. I hold the distinction of being the oldest member in a mothers book club – by a number of years. Most of the other women were children of the ‘70s. I did more in the ‘70s than just grow up.

I have never lied about my age – except once when I was coerced, forced, denied the ability to move forward unless I did in fact lie about the year of my birth.

Why should I say that I am younger than my 56 years? I’ve worked hard to create the woman I am today. I started my career in my twenties, developed professionally in my thirties even after having my first son when I was 35. Five years later, after my second pregnancy was confirmed, my obstetrician wrote in large black letters AMA (Advanced Maternal Age) on my medical chart. I was 40.

“Aging is not just decay, you know. It’s growth,” so says Morrie in Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom. True. During my forties, I grew around my middle and my thighs. I also grew in wisdom and patience. I learned how to use technology -- computers, cell phones, PDAs and the Internet. In my fifties I learned to Tweet and Friend and to write a profile worthy of social networking. And that is when the lying began.

No, I did not lie about my age on MySpace or Facebook. Instead, I logged on to a newly launched parenting website. To register, the site asked for my age. As directed, I entered my birth month, June, and my birth day, 24, and the year 195__. I tried adding the “4” but the field didn’t take the number. So I chose the earliest year listed -- 1956. 1956! This begged the question: Are mothers over 55 too old to learn from Internet resources?

I tried to enter a “4” one more time. I only wanted to log on so that I could talk to other moms -- women like me with little time to connect socially during the day and only a few minutes at night to search the Web for parenting strategies and eBay sales.

No go. Finally, forced to lie about my age, I gave up and entered my birth year as 1956 -- the year Lucille Ball won the Emmy for I Love Lucy, the cost of a postage stamp was 3 cents, the Yankees won the World Series (against the Brooklyn Dodgers), and life expectancy was 69.7 years – all according to the Internet.

Since I first joined that parenting website, they’ve wisely expanded their list of possible years. But now I am thinking, why should I ever select my real birth year? Why not pick 1970? The year a postage stamp cost 6 cents, Cybil Shepard was on the cover of Glamour magazine, and life expectancy rose to 70.8 years. Next time I’ll choose 1970, the year both Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin died of drug overdoses and The Mary Tyler Moore Show premiered on CBS.

On second thought, choosing 1970 seems…well…dishonest. Maybe I should pick a birth year closer to my own, one that I do not remember with such certainty.

Hmm. I wonder what important events occurred in 1958. Let’s check the Internet.

Elizabeth Coplan began her marketing and public relations career in New York and Los Angeles over 30 years ago. Now as CEO of COPLAN AND COMPANY in Seattle, Elizabeth focuses on business consulting and on the all-important-job of wife and mother.

Well-known for her personal essays and public speaking, Elizabeth, a "later" mom, recently appeared in the anthology When One Door Closes: Reflections from Women in Life’s Turning Points and in the book In Our Prime: Empowering Essays by Women on Love, Family, Career, Ageing & Just Coping. She is also co-creator and author of A Wild Ride, a website for parents of challenging children.

GUEST BLOG POST: Communication with Sons - by Renee Martinez, founder, www.raisingboysworld.com

Walking into motherhood after leading an independent life is an enormous change in itself. Having a boy adds an entirely new dimension of newness to the mix.

As women, caring for a girl is familiar. We share the same bodies and for the most part, we know the twists and turns that life will present her. We may have lived through the mother/daughter dynamic and know what to expect at various stages. We lived through it.

Mothers of sons are a special batch. We have an opportunity to shape the men of our future. We’ll never know what it’s like to go through puberty as a boy or to be one of the guys. We’ll likely not understand the unique pressures boys in our society face firsthand, but being different doesn’t mean being distant.

Oftentimes, I’ve heard moms say that they can’t relate to boys, that playing with trucks doesn’t appeal to them and that they find it difficult to connect. How well sons communicate when they are young often impacts their success to handle interpersonal relationships as they grow into men. With that said, the most wonderful gift you can give your son is to keep the lines of communication open so he feels comfortable sharing with you. Working to build a relationship of trust will have tremendous benefits at various stages throughout his life.

The key to any successful relationship is communication. On the drive to school, take the opportunity to ask him questions about what’s going on, what he’s concerned about etc… Tell him about your plans for the day. When he starts chatting about the baseball game in detail that you could care less about, don’t push him away; listen and ask questions. He’ll come back and talk with you when it’s something important because he’ll be comfortable and know you care about what he has to say. When approached, stop what you’re doing and look at your son, listen as you would to a friend or colleague. Give him the respect that you expect him to give you. Listen, listen, listen and try to avoid being confrontational. Don’t finger point or criticize by pointing out problems, instead try to work together to come to a realization of the problem and an appropriate solution…as if you’re playing on the same team.

Getting your son to open up as he grows older can be a huge challenge if you never took the opportunity to make him feel like you could relate when he was young. Why would he suddenly want to open up with you if he felt ignored when he tried to before? Keep in mind that while forging a friendship is nice, he is your son, and your role as a parent is to guide him, not to be his buddy.

So the next time you hear someone say they feel like boys are from another planet, tell them it would be wise to take the time and connect with him and live in the same world with him before he finds living in another universe preferable.

Renee is the founder of http://www.raisingboysworld.com.