Look at me - I'm Homer Simpson!

Ever since I got pregnant and had a baby, I crave beer. Good, cold, fancy imported beer. A substance that used to make me nauseous at the mere smell of it (a residual effect of my college days when I used to go to fraternity parties). It started in the middle of my pregnancy and I thought it would stop after I had the baby. But it hasn't. In fact, it's gotten more pronounced six months after giving birth. My husband and I are big wine drinkers and typically have a glass of wine with dinner every night. But now all I want is beer - and all that it symbolizes: a nice pick me up, transition from work day to evening relaxation (yeah, right, like that's possible with two young children), adulthood, etc.

The other thing I really craved and still do is donuts. The apple fritters from Starbucks are my particular favorite. I don't allow myself to have too many donuts now. But I do have a good beer a couple of times a week.

I realized this newfound love for beer and donuts has turned me into Homer Simpson. Who have you become since you had children?

Pat Benatar, Concert for KIDS?

The other night, my husband and I finally found the right rock concert for our three young children to enjoy.

Our oldest at 9, Robert’s entrée into the concert arena had been to see Peter Frampton at the same theatre during the summer 2006. I’ve actually had people ask WHO? when I waxed poetic about the infamous Frampton Comes Alive album of 1976 that made A & M records a gazillion dollars and put Frampton on the map. But now, it was our girls’ turn.

So, off to the theatre-in-the-round we went, literally 7 minutes from our house, to our daughters’ first real rock ‘n roll concert ever.

No one has to ask when you mention Pat Benatar, the four-time Grammy winning megastar, named “Best Female Rock Vocal Performance” for 1980 and 1981. A Lindenhurst native, now 55 with two daughters, Benatar rocked the house with her just left of “over-the-top” 80’s, epic pop music. Building to a moving, demonic fever pitch on “Hell Is For Children,” she explained the lyrical origin came from a New York Times article on child abuse that Neil Giraldo (second husband of 16 years) “made the guitar cry to.”

My husband, Tom, and I were amazed at Giraldo, a.k.a Spyder’s musical talent that has been under the radar. And after almost 30 years, the lyrics still held up. We Belong to the sound of the words we’re both falling under, whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better, we belong, we belong together…

I felt it, hugging my two daughters, Kelly next to me and Melanie on daddy’s lap, as Robert craned his neck around the 40-something-year-old ladies in front of us clearly out for a reminiscing evening, arms linked swaying together…We Belong!

It occurred to me as Benatar commanded the stage both with her tough, theatrical presence and strong voice, how empowering she and her music are. I remember countless times in my life growing up on Long Island driving with groups of friends pumped up for a night out at Rum Runners, or the Dublin Pub or days baking in the sun on Jones Beach or Centre Island, listening to Benatar. Times after a breakup when I leaned on her for support and sang at the top of my lungs … …Promises in the Dark…never again, isn’t that what you said, you’d been through this before and swore this time you’d think with your head… you go girl, that’s how I feel. She would dust me off and set me on my merry way, again.

Benatar said it best at the Friday, April 11th concert, “In 1979, there was only one woman allowed on the radio at a time. And now, things have changed that a woman and black man are running for the White House.”

Times have changed and Benatar had much to do with shaping the pop culture.

After performing in amateur nights at Catch a Rising Star in Manhattan in 1977, Benatar formed a band with Giraldo. When she exploded onto the scene in ‘79, with “Heartbreaker” reaching #23 on the charts, there was a lull in women’s music where Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez had died down. We were left with sickingly sweet Olivia Newton John and borderline Linda Ronstadt. Thankfully, women’s attitude finally cleaved its way into rock n’ roll with Blondie’s first US hit “Heart of Glass” in ‘78, Chrissy Hynde and the Pretenders’ “Brass in Pocket,”in ’79, then Joan Jett’s “I love Rock ‘n Roll” and Madonna’s “Everybody” both in 1982…

Benatar’s stream of hits throughout the 80’s: “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” “You Better Run,” “Treat Me Right,” “Precious Time,” “Shadows of the Night,” “Invincible,”…paved the way for the Suzanne Vega and Tracy Chapman “acoustic” women of the late ‘80s.

It was fitting that Pat Benatar would be my daughters’ first concert.

Priceless Kodak moment as our six-year-old, Melanie, sang along with the crowd and Benatar You’re a heartbreaker, dream maker, love taker don’t you mess around with me. And believe me, you wouldn’t want to mess with Melanie and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Another generation of women is touched by Benatar’s voice still strong after all these years. Thanks for decades of music Pat. Bravo!

Communal Germs

Let me start by saying we had a really nice trip to Boston. We went away last week, during spring break, with Seth, to Beantown. There is so much to do there, and we totally lucked out with the weather, so all was great, for the most part. I highly recommend it as a destination. That said, the tide changed radically once we got home.....

We returned Sunday night, and I felt immediately swamped. Mail to read. Tons of emails. Calls to return. Appointments to make. Unpacking...etc. Vacation was surely over. I did what I could and turned in early (for me)....glad to be sleeping in my own bed again....and at 2AM, major stomach discomfort kicked in. I wound up spending most of the evening in and out of the bathroom and was in bed all the next day. Some kind of stomach flu hit me big time, and I was feeling nothing but pain. My back hurt...legs ached, stomach churned. I lived on saltines, jello and other super light food for the next few days, and still feel like my energy is seriously zapped.

The day after I took ill, Seth started complaining his throat hurt when he yawned, and he wondered if that was normal. He's not one typically to complain, so we listened up. We kept him home from school that day, and Marc took him to the pediatrician the following morning. I'm so glad he did. Were it up to me, I would have thought that Seth just had a sore throat. But, shockingly, I got a call from Marc on his way to the pharmacy with Seth, and he said Seth had strep throat. My first thought was....Yikes! I already had it this winter....no not again....strep germs in the house.

Then, the day after, Marc announced that he didn't feel well and came home early from work. He then spent the entire next day in bed, as I had, and went to the doctor with a scratchy throat. Luckily his isn't strep, but the doctor didn't want it to develop. Both he and Seth are now on antibiotic...and I wait with baited breath...and pray that it won't catch up with me.

I do feel somewhat sniffly today, so I'm popping extra Vitamin C and Echinacea and hoping for the best. Must go to bed early, or at least try to.

We have weekend plans that can't be cancelled, and I have to rise to the occasion.

This week has been unreal. This is my first experience with all of us being ill at the very same time. And, not even exactly with the same virus. Crazy!

I'm wiped out from it all...not to mention feeling behind in some things I expected to get done. Oh well. Such is the life of a parent.

Next week will hopefully be better. And, if weather permits, I'm going to open all the doors and windows and air out the house....and pull out the cans of Lysol and disinfect like a mad woman. And, get out my hand sanitizer and use it religiously. One of my mom friends, knowing how sick I've been this winter with miscellaneous bugs, suggested I get myself a surgical mask for protection. Hmmm...now that's a thought. :)

Have you ever had this experience?

Thelma and Louise and Me

Ever see the movie Thelma and Louise?

Well....while I'm not a criminal/fugitive like these two gals....I felt like a stifled suburban mom yearning to bust lose when two friends recently invited me to join them on a jaunt upstate NY.

Both are empty nesters looking to enter the next phase of their lives and reinvent themselves, including moving from Long Island, NY to some place two or so hours away. An easy drive is the goal, as well as a great view, and cool town offering culture, shopping, restaurants, etc.

I had mentioned in discussions with them that perhaps Marc and I might consider buying a weekend condo upstate, if our budget permitted. Nothing definite. (Part of me would love to have an apt. in Manhattan, but it's gotten prohibitive.) I was curious about what the money could buy in a smaller town, and how it would feel to have another place. The last thing we'd want is to have to take care of another home...but a condo in a development might be feasible.

So...when one of my friends emailed me about joining them in their home quest, I first thought...hmmmm.....should I go? Will this be fun? It's a Sunday...would Marc mind being with Seth? We had an appointment with a decorator scheduled (we plan to redo our basement). Could that be changed? (She's super busy, so I wasn't sure.) I was scheduled to do a podcast interview on the phone re: Motherhood Later. Could I do that from my cell upstate? Would I get reception? And....on top of it, these friends mentioned that they might decide to stay overnight, depending on how things went. How would that sit with me, they asked?

After debating it a bit and discussing with Marc, my decision was made. He was totally agreeable to spending solo time with Seth, and the decorator was able to give us another weekend date in April. And, I decided to take a chance on the reception from my cell phone, and advised the interviewer that I would be on the road.

I jumped at the chance...and tried not to feel the need to justify it in my mind!

The reality was.....I SO needed this. And, a few of my close friends echoed that sentiment. Had they been sensing in me a restlessness? Perhaps......I certainly know it's been there.
I find it's so easy to feel stuck in a rut. I have confessed in the past that being a suburban work at home mom isn't the easiest thing for me. I miss the company of others. Though I do have an occasional lunch with a friend and schedule playdates for Seth, it's not the same as working in an office.

Beyond that...what I experienced on this trip was a welcome sense of abandon. On that Monday, we walked down the cool, artsy, retro streets of Woodstock, and I have to confess, I didn't want to go home. It felt so good to be free, and we only stayed over one night. But, that was enough to whet my appetite and be reminded of myself. To be Robin...and not just mommy, daughter, wife, etc.

I was speaking with a friend after the weekend and telling her what great fun I had....and I found myself discussing how I felt a little "guilty not to feel guilty." Does that make sense?

Seth and Marc both said they missed me when I returned. And, yes, I missed them, but not while I was shopping in Woodstock. Should I have? I don't want to overthink the situation. It certainly doesn't mean I don't love them.

Suffice it to say that it's so important to take time for yourself. And, even a quick jaunt with friends can be enough to rejuvenate you.

Go for it, if given the opportunity! It's so important to remember who you were before motherhood...and us moms have the right to enjoy time away. Give yourself permission.
My next trip is with Seth and Marc for spring break shortly. Surely that will be an entirely different experience. We are meeting friends there, so perhaps I can snag a little pocket of time to hang with my girlfriend a bit. We'll see.............

Either way, I look forward to going. But, would also return in a heartbeat to Woodstock or wherever with girlfriends for a quick getaway!!

The New Party Invitation

And so it has begun. We are now being invited to birthday parties for little kids. Not that we haven't been invited in the past. It's just that we never had children before so it never seemed like a fun way to spend a Saturday with dozens of screaming little kids and bad pizza and too much cake (what I imagine little kids birthday parties to include).

We will be attending our first little kid birthday party next week for a 2 year old boy. I will bring Joey who loves to play with "big" kids and will leave Lyra with my mother. Here's my dilemma. Do we bring a gift (the invitation doesn't say not to). What do we bring? How much do we spend?

It seems like it should be a simple thing to figure out but I really need some help with ideas. I always get caught up in "oh he probably already has a dump truck/toy cell phone/stuffed doggy." And "I'm sure clothes are soooo boring for little boys to receive." And "He is the only child with upper middle class parents. What could he possibly need/want?"

Even though I have three nephews, I can't for the life of me remember what I got them when each of them turned 2.

So, any advice for a first-time 40-something mom who is attending her first official little kid birthday party?

The Magic of Six

Thirteen used to be my favorite number. Now it is six. There are six members of my family (including our dogs). My children are six months apart. And I am a proud contributor to the recent NY Times bestseller: Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs from Writers Famous & Obscure. Check it out at http://www.sixwordmemoirs.com

I first heard about Six-Word Memoirs while listening to the radio on a drive to the San Francisco Bay Area for the holidays in 2006. It was Christmas Eve and they were accepting entries until midnight that night. I thought it was a cool idea so started composing my own in my head. At that time, my husband and I were forging full steam ahead with a gestational surrogacy arrangement with his cousin, who had volunteered for us. She had been cleared medically by my doctor and we had a schedule in place to do IVF and implant her in early February. I came up with and submitted the perfect memoir: "Multiple miscarriages. Cousin will carry baby."

In early February, our cousin had to pull out of the arrangement on the eve of my egg extraction due to medical problems that surfaced in the prior two months. We were devastated and knew she was our last hope. Not a week later I received an email from the editor of Six-Word Memoirs, Rachel Fershleiser, that mine had been selected out of thousands of entries to be included in the book, and could I please send some sort of photo. Oh the irony!

I wrote to her explaining that my memoir was no longer true and perhaps she should reconsider including me in the book. She wrote back to me and said, yes, she still wanted my contribution and that each memoir is really only a moment in time. I agreed but did not have a photo to include.

Fast forward one year later to February '08. I get another email from Rachel that the book is published, that all contributors will be getting a complimentary copy, and please share any updates: "P.S. Is there a story-behind-the-story of your six-word memoir? Did you find our contest in an outrageous way? Has there been a major update in your life? Please write back to me with anything you can contribute to the lore of project. It's fascinating and will help us do interviews. Hell, if one of you could be so kind as to fall in love with me, we could be on Good Morning America!"

Well, I shot her an email as fast as I could type: "I do have a major update: I am sitting in my new home with two babies to my name..." and gave her the rest of my story.

Rachel's response to me: "Joanna! I can't tell you how happy I am to hear from you! I am dancing around my bedroom! I swear, when I wrote that P.S., I was thinking about you. I was so touched by your emails. I even quoted part of what you wrote to me in the book's introduction, about lifetimes happening every day and truth changing. But I wasn't about to write a "yo lady, you knocked up yet?" email. But you are! Or were! Or whatever, look at those beautiful, perfect babies and that happy, happy family! I'm not usually such a mush but you have entirely goosebumped me. I'm so incredibly thrilled for you, and so honored and grateful to have stuck my little nose into your incredible story."

I rewrote my six-word memoir for Rachel: "Adopted baby. Got pregnant. Instant family." She put my new memoir on CBS' Morning News:
Life In Six Words
http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/i_video/main500251.shtml?id=3877514n

When I met her in person at the Los Angeles book launch, I shared my newest six-word life story: "Two children six months apart. Huh?"

So, sorry for the shameless plug but Six-Word Memoirs are now all the rage. I invite you to try writing your own. But be careful, it's addicting. (You might even try writing them for other people, like I do. Can I make a living at that?) So, please share your six.

Going Back to Work (3)

I went back to work this week.

The first week went by, embarrassingly uneventful, compared to the angst I felt until the moment I arrived at my office. The night before the first day, I dreamt that I was Colin Farrell (don't ask how I knew, it's a dream), a secret agent, and was locked in a room with my partner, an older guy. The room started to fill with water, until finally there was only a pocket of air left, just enough for our noses to take in quick sniffs of air. Then I kicked the door open, the water gushed out. Unfortunately, my partner died, but I survived. The dream was so vivid! I woke up to get ready, had my breakfast, then threw up.
The babysitter came on time, my daughter cried but not for long (30 minutes). And I drove to campus, on the first day of classes.

All day, I had to run around like a mad woman, not a moment to idle away. In other words, business as usual, as I remember ten months ago. And I felt at home.

Pop-Tarts and menopause

Ladies, can we talk? Okay it’s been 84 days since I got my period. And there is no way I could be pregnant because my husband, Tom, had the big V, when my third daughter Melanie, now 6, was just five months old. After having three in just under four years, I told him flat out, that’s it—I can’t have anymore kids and meant it, banishing him to another bedroom. All bets are off honey. Go away with that thing. And he ran like hell to the urologist’s office to get snipped thinking we’d have wild, passionate unprotected crazy sex like we used to…..or at least we thought or Jeez could’ve sworn we did…once.

Now, I’m hormonal, bloated, breaking out with acne, crying and just plain nasty some days. I’m 42. There’s been no warning of this coming, yet. I haven’t had any hot flashes. Although I’m very dizzy sometimes to the point that I can’t even watch my kids go on a Merry-Go-Round let alone go on any rides with them at all. I’m an earth bound mother. I can’t even turn around in the mini-van when Tom’s driving to answer a question or hand them juice. I get that dizzy.

So I buy a pregnancy kit. Because I've heard all those urban legends about vasectomies...it can get reconnected somehow; someone knew someone after 10 years they had a child...Tom sits on the bed waiting, while I do what the instructions tell me to do in the bathroom. I’m cranky. I thought I’d never have to buy one of these kits again in my life. I fuss with the thing, put the cap back on and wait.

I open the door from the bathroom and look at my husband. And I see, in his eagerness to hear the news, I can’t believe it and blink twice. There it is—a giant Cheshire grin as wide as the parting of the Red Sea spreading across his face. He’s HAPPY. He wants another child. Number four!!! He’s acting goofy with a twinkle in his eye I haven’t seen since the hospital when he cradled each newborn in his arms. And this makes me…MAD. Because I just got my life back.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my children all three crazy kids that run through my house, screaming, fighting and gluing things onto the refrigerator. I adore it. Wouldn’t have it any other way, except for those stickers on my hardwood floors that I can’t scrape off. I’m blessed, but I just came up for air. I began to have full length conversations with my friends again while out to lunch. Shoot, we actually GO OUT to lunch! Our family’s sleeping through the night just about every night. I am absolutely no good without sleep-as all moms are. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t do it, again.

We wait. The line was negative—thank god.
Tom’s sad but I realized, he was more puffed up and proud at the thought, although cut off for five years, that maybe his boys, or just that one miraculous rebel golden seed, broke the boundary, escaped and found its way to glory.

Me, still bloated cranky and irritating to everyone within a 2 mile radius of me, scheduled a doctor’s appointment to see what’s up. Then I ate four Pop-Tarts at once and cried at a sappy commercial.

Help. Any advice?

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.