It’s Our Prerogative… by Elizabeth Allen

What mother of a teenage daughter doesn’t like to be addressed as “her older sister”? Granted, the comment is usually delivered by some sleazy salesman as he attempts to close a sale or a just-pubescent waiter fishing for a larger tip, but still, it feels nice.


I find the older I get, the less selective I’ve become regarding the source of the compliments. I will gladly allow my morale to be boosted and my ego stroked by just about anyone from any walk of life or gender – with the possible exception of homeless people (although there was that one guy who looked remarkably like a scruffy Gerard Butler as he gulped his Mad Dog…)

The fact is, younger mothers probably get mistaken for their kids’ sisters all the time and take the faux pas for granted, while we more seasoned moms recognize that very narrow window and struggle to squeeze through for as long as possible.

CUE: hair color, face lifts, Botox, anti-wrinkling cream, or any one of a plethora of youth-mimicking devices or applications. Okay, I’ve only succumbed to coloring over my gray but I hail from a family of women who were no strangers to cosmetic surgery. That doesn’t mean I intend to follow their footsteps, in fact, I don’t want a face so tight you could bounce a dime off of. (Joan Rivers and Donatella Versace come to mind…ugh!) It would be fun though to hear some young man whisper under his breath “what a cougar” at me and not directed at a ’67 Mercury.

I’m not trying to look as young as my daughter; if I want to feel 16 again I’ll wait for senility to kick in. And for the most part, I’m pretty okay with the aging process. I had my fun before becoming a mother and contrary to Mr. Shaw’s quote, I did not waste my youth. All things considered, I don’t exactly have one foot in the grave, but who says we have to look like it?

                                      I’ll keep flirting until someone says, “Is there something in your eye?”

Do as I Say, Not as I Do…uh…Did - by Elizabeth Allen

Hypocrite: a person who pretends to have virtues, moral or religious beliefs, principles, etc., that he or she does not actually possess, especially a person whose actions belie stated beliefs.


I keep finding these little tiny glitches in the system of “parenthood later”. One of them has to do with budding behaviors, attitudes and episodes my 16 year old exhibits that are fairly tantamount to me when I was 16. Now, that said, there are some major differences between the two of us as sweet-sixteeners, not the least of which is 36 years. Am I wrong in thinking parents with a narrower age difference can work these glitches out with more efficiency? Are their behaviors better emulated because they didn’t have the extra time to make more mistakes?

It was a different time and different circumstances. I hit upon 16 in 1975, the product of enormous dysfunction with a wild streak that even Paris Hilton would envy. I had a fake id and was drinking alcohol with friends. I smoked pot (and yes, I inhaled). I was sexually active because I needed love and if a boy wanted me that way, that meant I must be loveable. I ran away twice before the very real threat of juvy inspired me to cool my jets until I could legally run away once and for all at 18. I had an argument with my mother during a drive from Tampa to Atlanta and threw her out of the car somewhere near Valdosta. I didn’t actually throw her from a moving vehicle; just forced her out physically and watched her expression of disbelief in the rearview mirror as I called her bluff by actually driving away. I didn’t go back.

Not a very nice kid. Yeah, well. I’m not proud of that last stunt but over time I did develop skills which have made me who I am today. And I’m very proud of how I turned out. You can develop some pretty nice muscles when you pull yourself up from rock bottom on your own.

On to my daughter. Let me say right up front that she is not a drug-using, sexually active, ruthless chip off the old block. Quite the contrary. She knows all about drugs and has no desire to indulge (but if she did and/or her friends entice her, we talk about it honestly and I would insist they partake within the safe confines of our home…and save me a hit). She was not bounced on the knees of two parents who hated each other, but rather, witnesses daily a mom and dad who are nuts in love. And who love her more than air. That alone gives her value and confidence; no gap that she needs to fill artificially with drugs, sex or anger. She hasn’t thrown me out of the car yet, but she still has her learner’s permit…

So all things considered, she’s really a great kid. The similarities I speak of are mostly an attitude imbalance. She’s tough on me; she yells a lot and she has virtually no patience. In short, I exasperate her. Exactly how I treated my mom. It doesn’t help that she’s hormonal and I’m premenopausal. But while I don’t see her following in my unpleasant footsteps on the road to her evolution, I have to anticipate there may be some detours I didn’t expect. And when those deviations pop up, how do I, in good conscience, tell her “no”? I guess, like any parent, regardless of my unsavory, reckless and fairly debauched youth, I’ll cross those bridges when I come to them.

I just hope this particular fruit fell way far from the tree.

Days of Our Lives - by Elizabeth Allen

Do you watch soaps? Will you admit it? Perhaps you’re a GH (General Hospital) or OLTL (One Life to Live) devotee.

Me? It’s been DOOL since 1968 when Hope was just a baby, Alice Horton was still young and pretty and no one referred to Victor Kiriakis as Jennifer Aniston’s dad (not until one year later when she came along in 1969). Oh sure, there have been lapses—some lasting years—where I didn’t indulge my histrionic needs, but something always enticed me back to the world of affairs, hospital romances, mistaken identities, untimely albeit temporary deaths, switched babies, pregnancy after the first time, and the ever popular evil twin. I’ve laughed, cried, rooted for and bitched at the players over the years. I’ve gotten so involved with a plotline that I forced my baby to listen to my conjecture about how John and Marlena would get out of this mess and what had to happen next. To which my baby eagerly responded, “Hungee, mommy…”

I willingly acknowledge with the same humble conviction of a recovering alcoholic that when it comes to soaps, I am as emotionally available as they come. I know the acting is lousy; I know the writing is cheesy; I know the plotlines are beyond redundant; I know the overall focus is negative and I know they are designed to keep you coming back FOR-FREAKING-EVER like a slave to the nail salon for acrylic tips.

But I simply can’t help myself. What’s more? I don’t want to. This is my sinful pleasure; my addiction. DVR’s? They were invented for me.

I have engaged in debates—ad nauseum—with my husband about why I watch this soap daily and nothing I can say convinces him that it has any socially redeeming value. He says, “I just can’t understand why you want to watch so much negativity…why you watch something that makes you sad…”

“But it doesn’t!” I offer with a sincere competitive edge in my voice to make him understand. But then I stop. What’s the point of belaboring this? How can I possibly explain that I love to cry and not out of grief or pity? I will watch movies that while essentially sad or have sad elements, move me. Great love stories get me going. I cry when I am touched. I weep at devastating intensity. I tear up at well written happy endings. The following movies are on my top tear-jerker list and I will watch them more than once: Sophie’s Choice, Seven Pounds, The Pursuit of Happyness (yeah, I like Will Smith), City of Angels, Somewhere in Time, Finding Neverland, To Kill a Mockingbird, A Beautiful Mind…and so on.

So what’s any of this have to do with motherhood later? I don’t know. Perhaps had I not had so much child-free time on my hands, I wouldn’t have gotten sucked into this melodramatic habit? Nah. That’s not it. Like I said earlier, I got hooked when I was ten years old.

What’s your excuse? What jerks your tears?

Sticky Nest - by Elizabeth Allen

I see young mothers all around me doing everything from dropping off their 6 year-olds for the first day of kindergarten to quick hugs outside their 18 year-olds freshman college dorm. They do it fast too! Like ripping off a Band-Aid. They shed ne’er a tear before they’re on their way to lunch with the girls or meeting with the interior designer to overhaul junior’s room.

But watch an older mom take little Timmy to his first day of school. He’s chomping at the bit, pulling toward the Fisher-Price Tiny Tots Farm with all his weight and she’s weeping at an elevated level of histrionics like something out of Sophie’s Choice. And it doesn’t seem to get any easier from there. At least it hasn’t for me.

My daughter turned 16 this past July and I have a whole list of BFI’s—Brace For It.

• Driving: without me or her father, alone, fast, listening to and/or singing along with music on her ipod, with a friend who’s distracting her by talking instead of keeping her eyes on the road thus discouraging my daughter from talking back to her, at night, in the rain, when the sun is at that blinding level, even when it’s not, when there are other cars on the road, and why she’s been gone for more than ten minutes.

• Boyfriends: while I trust her judgment in whom she chooses to be with and while she is pretty sophisticated about boys in general, I just don’t think she’s really ready for what a 16 year old boy wants. No offense to my readers who are parents of teenage sons, but you know what I’m talking about. Regarding rules – we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. If we impose rigid guidelines, there will be rebellion to contend with and we run the risk of driving her away and then she’ll hop into that car ( SEE: first BFI) and elope with that boy in Georgia just to make a point. If we give her complete and unrestricted freedom, she’ll take it and I’ll still be nauseous until she gets home from her date. And then she’ll tell me nothing. Oy vay.

• College: Sure. I hear what you’re saying. “She’s 16! That’s two years away!” But to me it feels like tomorrow. Intellectually, I understand the concept that our children are only ours for a short time and we must let them go, but my gut and my heart march to a different drummer. Between you and me (and I swear I will NOT pressure her to do this!) I want her to go to a local college, live at home, finish her homework and invite me in to watch a tearjerker DVD at least twice a week, help me cook family meals (why not? She’ll get to eat for free as long as she stays home) and go shopping with me once in a while. And then, once she graduates, maybe look for a position in her chosen field within a 50-mile-radius of me. Oh, and there’s no hurry to move out.

See this momma bird kicking her chick out of the nest?

THAT ain't me.

I know, I know. I’ve seen emotionally crippled young adults whose parents kept them utterly dependent and once on their own, they were completely helpless. I knew a boy in college who had never set foot in a grocery store. The first time he went food shopping for his apartment, he looked for packages of bologna on the bread aisle because it was logical that sandwich stuffs should be there. I’m not saying my clingy tendencies are healthy or even justified. Just the emotional ramblings and apprehensions of one gal who waited so long to have her dream baby and doesn’t want to wake up too soon.

Don’t pinch me.

All About “No” - by Cara Potapshyn Meyers

I had the pleasure of attending another lecture by Lisa Levine-Bernstein, MSN, RN, FNP, at one of our local New York Chapter, Motherhood Later, moms night out dinners a few weeks ago. The topic being discussed was, “How to Say ‘No’ to Your Child.” I unknowingly started our discussion by asking Lisa why she had chosen a parenting decision she made, at the previous dinner talk she gave. The issue was about saying “No” to her teenage daughter who wanted to get a tattoo. Lisa’s decision was to provide her sixteen-year-old with medical risks related to getting a tattoo and having her daughter ponder whether she might not like the tattoo in 10 years. Lisa also discussed with her daughter choosing a less conspicuous location for the tattoo, should it be visible to prospective employers or even graduate school interviewers. Lisa then said she told her daughter that on her 18th birthday, when she was legally an adult, her daughter could decide whether she still wanted the tattoo or not. When she turned 18, Lisa’s daughter ran to get a tattoo.

Since that first lecture with Lisa, I agreed with every parenting strategy Lisa discussed (I read too many parenting books). However, I don’t think I would have done what Lisa did, in making her daughter wait 2 years to get a tattoo. Knowing my son, who sounds very similar in personality to Lisa’s daughter, I would have presented all of the risks involved, including taking him to a dermatologist’s office to learn how painful and difficult getting a tattoo removed would be, get advice from other sources who were more knowledgeable about tattoos than me, then let him decide if he still really wanted one. If he did, I would set limits on size, design and location, but I ultimately would let him have one. I know my son well enough to know that if I made him wait 2 years, at the stroke of midnight on his 18th birthday, he would get one. And it would be the biggest, most obnoxious and conspicuous tattoo you have ever laid eyes on. But that’s my son, and that’s his personality. Lisa said that there was nothing wrong with my parenting decision, especially when you know your child as well as I do.

This lecture emphasized much more. At one point, Lisa asked how many mothers had been told by their child that their child hated them. I was the only one who hadn’t ever had my child tell me he hated me. I also explained why. When my son is angry with me, for whatever reason, I “beat him to the punch.” While he is still enraged, but before he can lash out at me, I say to him, “I know you are really mad at Mommy right now...and that’s okay. But I made my decision for a good reason and I am still going to say no.” By doing this, it let’s my son off the hook emotionally by being allowed to “hate me,” if he wants. It’s a little difficult to tell someone you hate her when they’ve already taken your words from you. I’ve also found that this technique diffuses a heated confrontation considerably. My child lives for initiating power struggles. I’ve learned (finally!) how to nip it in the bud before it escalates. Thank goodness I found something that works. I went through too many years of almost daily torments. Lisa liked how I handled my “challenging” child.

Lisa gave us suggestions of how to say, “No” effectively:

Make “No” a positive. Example: “You can have your treat just as soon as we finish eating dinner,” or “Of course you can watch TV...just as soon as you put your toys away.” This way, the “no” is really coming across as a “yes,” as long as the child complies.

Towards the end of the lecture, I made a suggestion that Lisa loved. If you have a child who gets easily sidetracked (like mine) and forgets to brush his teeth in the morning or doesn’t bring home all of the required books for school to do homework each day, I came up with a visual plan. I took pictures of my son doing his morning routine of getting dressed, washing face, combing hair, brushing teeth, and put them on a piece of poster board. This way my son could visually see what he needed to do next and eliminate his “sidetracking.” I did the same with his books for school. He had to make sure that he brought home different books, plus his folder, on different days. I took photos of each book and his folder and printed out mini pictures of these books. I made a Monday - Friday chart of the books my son needed for each day, glued the pictures to the page, and made multiple copies of that one page to stick in my son’s folder. He would check the chart as he was packing up for the day, and we rarely had to worry that something he needed to do his homework with was forgotten at school. Thus, no need to say, “no” to TV or using the computer as a consequence for forgetting his school items.

Everyone’s child is unique and incredible in his or her own way. Lisa said to seek out this “good” in your child to build up your child’s sense of self-esteem. Rather than say to your child, “You did a great job!” specify what the child did that made that job so great! Did they hit the ball so hard that they made a home run? Did they do a near perfect dive off the diving board? Did they choose colors for Legos that you probably would never have thought to combine, but looked terrific together as your child’s “work of art?" Praise them for these specific things. This way, when you do have to say “no,” your child will understand that you are being fair in dishing out that “no” because you also recognize when they also do some amazing things. But don’t overdo it. Use this technique modestly and appropriately. Let them get a sense that, “nobody is perfect.”

Finally, Lisa discussed the most important part of saying “no.” Don’t be wishy-washy and don’t give in. Once your child sees that you can stand your ground, but also realizes that you can recognize their achievements, they will test you less and power struggles will dissipate. Sometimes “no” is “no.” End of story. But it’s also okay to say to your child, “I need time to think about my decision. I will get back to you.” You know your child best. Pick and choose the “no” strategies that you think will work for your child. And if one technique doesn’t work, try another. After all, one size does not fit all.

If you would like to speak with Lisa directly or send her a question via e-mail:

Contact Lisa Levine-Bernstein, MSN, RN, FNP. E-mail: Parentingsuccessfulchildren@juno.com or  phone (516) 423 - 9918.

And if you live on Long Island, Queens or NYC,  join us for a fun and informative Mom’s Night Out! We all learn so much from the speakers and among ourselves! And we deserve our own night out!  There is no fee to join a local chapter, and there may be one in your town, or you can start one.  Contact biz@motherhoodlaterthansooner.com to inquire.