Honesty - Part I -- by Cara

The past few weeks Motherhood Later has brought on board several new bloggers along with their stories and former struggles. Two bloggers, Liimu and Laura have stories of their lives which have been resonating with me. A lot. Almost constantly. Liimu and Laura are two, what appear to be, very strong but resilient individuals. I read the openers for each of their first blogs and then read the blogs themselves. I was floored as to how these two women have turned their lives around and aspired to get out of life what they really wanted. They inspire me. Which is the crux of my blog today.

My life has not been an easy one either. Nothing close to what others have had to endure, but stressful enough. My mother died when I was a teenager. My father was an “older” father with many heart problems (he would have been 92 this past Monday. He died 3 years ago). And I had to care for him for probably a full decade. My son was born with Gastric Reflux induced colic, which lasted for months on end. Then we found out he had Sensory Processing Disorder. Later, Auditory Processing Disorder and ADD, both, which impact his learning ability in school. But as anyone who treats or knows an ADD/ADHD person, they will tell you that they are extremely bright and creative individuals! So although my son has difficulty reading and writing and is getting extra services in school to help him, he could also chew your ear off about molecules and dinosaurs and the fact that it is now Fall on the other side of the world (he is 6). I often kid that I can almost see him as a doctor because he is incredible in math and science but has the handwriting of a doctor! But I digress.

I simply won’t bore you with the number of medical problems I have. One of which I am dealing with the physical affects of as I write. And the numbers of prescription pills I take are probably as many or more than my father was taking at age 89. I chalk up all of these medical conditions to stress that has built up over my very stressful lifetime. However, I am currently living the most stressful event of my life. Something that I NEVER expected. Something that if you told me a year ago would happen, I would have laughed hysterically and said, “Nonsense!” Something I now grieve every day...the “loss” of my marriage.

My husband (I’m not sure how else to refer to him) and I have known each other for over 20 years. We will have been “married” for 15 years as of this May. Beginning last summer, at the same time as we discovered my son’s learning issues, and I was battling a yet undiagnosed medical problem, my husband’s personality did a 180 degree flip. He changed so drastically; I almost couldn’t discern who this person was whom I was living with. This went on until this past January when my husband wanted to “separate.” I was beyond devastated. My life came crashing down on me. My one stable part of my life...my foundation...was ripped right from under me. When I asked why, he said he didn’t know. When I suggested marriage counseling, some 2 dozen times, he adamantly refused to go. We each sought legal counsel. Both of our lawyers said that if either of us ever wants full custody of our son, we MUST remain living in our present home. It is practically assumed that I would get custody of our son, so I cannot leave our house. My deluded husband has his own mistaken idea that HE would get custody of our son, based on my many medical conditions. Therefore, HE refuses to move out. I sleep in one bedroom, he sleeps in another and we go about our days as “housemates.”

The most important issue in all of this is our son. I guess because of his ADD or other issues, as long as both of his parents are in his home, together, his world is complete. His behavior both in and out of school has not changed one iota. His performance in school has actually improved. He is happy and playful and enjoying life, which I am tremendously thankful for. I grieve and suffer alone at other times. And have an incredible support system of friends. My world of feeling safe and secure is no longer. But I need for my son to feel safe and secure. So I weep in silence. And hope and pray that I can provide this feeling of safety and security for him.

One of the reasons I needed to disclose all of this is that I felt I was living a lie writing about my son but leaving out the “dirty laundry.” My life has piles of dirty laundry right now, and I can no longer step around them. I have to step into them. Thus my need to be honest with myself and with my readers. I could certainly sidestep the issue of the dissolution of my marriage, but it is that very same part that I need my readers to be aware of to get the full picture of what I am facing.

Right now I feel like a single Mom. My best friend is a single Mom by choice...she adopted a little boy who is ironically only 3 months younger than my son. And I ask her constantly, “How do you do it? You work full-time, have a part-time job, a son, a dog, and a house to maintain! How the heck do you do it?” She always replies, “You just do. It’s hard. But you just do what you have to do, sometimes day by day.”

So I guess that is what I intend to do. Take care of life one day at a time. The best I can. With all of the resilience and strength I can muster. And grieve on those days that I cannot.

This is Part I of a two-part blog. Part II will be featured next week as I try to “go it alone” with my child.

Motherhood -- by Cara

I just finished watching a DVD called, “Motherhood.” When the movie came to the theatres not too long ago, I heard that the reviews were not great. But I still wanted to see it, so I waited and rented it instead.

The reviewers were right; it was, overall, not such a great movie. But for Moms, there were a lot of underlying issues that the movie brought out that I felt were great for discussion.

The first and probably universal one was time. Time for oneself. Time to do everything on your “To Do” list. Time spent with family. Time you give to your children. There is just never enough “time” to go around to get anything done completely. And the movie draws this out nicely but almost too accurately. The Mom (Uma Thurman) has her list. And it is the day before her daughter turns 6 years old. And throughout the movie, this Mom is trying to “beat the clock” getting everything ready for her daughter’s birthday party that evening. I could almost see it as an average day in my life, with the exception that this movie took place in what appeared to be New York City, while I live in the suburbs outside of New York City. Yet, as a book I am reading, called “The Mask of Motherhood,” by Susan Maushart states, “When we consider the alternatives to the juggled life, the picture is equally, albeit differently, depressing. There is no doubt that to ‘Do it all’ leaves women breathless and resentful.” I like that description. I don’t know how many times I’ve said to friends, “I feel claustrophobic,” with regard to my overwhelming list of other’s needs, coupled with other various, “things to do.” Friends have commented that they can’t believe all of the errands I can get done within a six hour time period. My record was 10 different stores in areas as far as 15 miles away in less than 6 hours! Give me a Starbucks Latte, and I can literally race through my day! But still and all, I may win the race, but the resentment is still there. One way to get around this issue of “time” is also reflected in the movie.

It seemed, in “Motherhood”, that each parent voluntarily took one of their children (there were two children in this movie) as a way to “share the burden,” so to speak. I am finding that a lot among the families I know. Even in our own home, our son seems to get passed from my husband to me or me to my husband so that we both can have a little “down time.” Personally, I don’t know that this is a particularly good idea because the family almost becomes fragmented. I see it in our own home. We actually have to schedule events for all three of us to go to. Otherwise, I am the sit on the floor, play a game, or do a craft type of parent. My husband is the rock climbing, swimming, hiking Dad who takes our son on more physical outings. I see and hear of many parents dividing their parental duties this way. In some ways, it gives each parent a little breather. On the other hand, the family becomes too distant. I guess only time will tell what works best for each family. Susan Maushart, in her book brings out, “There is no doubt that the exclusive-care mother has a more intense relationship with her children. It is also worth bearing in mind that both the concept and the practice of exclusive-care motherhood are historical and cultural anomalies.” Throughout history, mothers have always had some form of “help” when it came to raising her children. Grandparents sometimes lived in the same home or very close by. Aunts and Uncles would drop by and lend a hand. And mothers who lived near to one another would congregate in one or another’s home and provided much needed support, as well as a place for their young children to play. “It takes a village,” to raise a child. And if the “village” is barren, sometimes it takes a spouse or even a friend.

Finally, a very noticeable thing was that Moms were portrayed as looking only half put together, frazzled, day-old, dirty messes. I must confess, in the early days of motherhood, that was me to a “T.” But this Mom had a Kindergartener and a 3 or 4 year old. A neighbor commented that Uma’s character was still wearing her pajamas as she walked her daughter to school. She changed outfits when she returned home, but decided to forgo a shower to work on a freelance writing assignment. So many Moms seem to be running out the door in their pajamas (yes, I am guilty) to take their child to school or to get a quick errand done. But I TRY to look at least HALF respectable. Yes, there are the Moms who have hired help to maintain some semblance of orderliness in their homes. And they are the Moms who can actually take a shower, blow dry their hair (do I even OWN a blow dryer? I think I do...somewhere...), and coordinate their outfit for the day all the way down to matching pocketbooks. In this movie, and in my world, that just doesn’t happen. I can manage a shower and throw on some minimal makeup. But I seem to grab the same (clean) clothes week after week because they are readily available and they are comfortable. I actually have to search for a presentable outfit to have a parent/teacher conference in!

I think the take-away from all of this is that the average Mom (working full-time, part-time, or not) doesn’t have the same life she had before kids. There was a scene in the movie where a young, good-looking messenger carrier, helped Uma Thurman’s character by schlepping her numerous bags of items she purchased for her daughter’s party, up three flights of stairs. She asked him in to her apartment to get some water for him to drink. Although absolutely nothing at all sexual happened between them, you could feel their sexual tension. And you could imagine where this would have led had Uma’s character not been a wife and a Mom. And to recapture a little bit of her former self, she put on some 90s music and danced. And the messenger carrier danced. And Uma’s character looked wild and free and unburdened by her present life! And you could tell that not only did she miss that feeling, she recognized that it was now lost. And she abruptly shut off the music and shook the hand of the messenger and bid him farewell.

There are moments in all of our lives when we say to ourselves, what happened here? What happened to ME? The fun-loving, crazy, independent me? She grew up, matured, maybe married, had children and life became a whole different experience for her. Late nights out are now replaced with television or a good book before collapsing from exhaustion. Fun loving is now replaced by how many times you watch your child go down the slide (or you go with them upon their insistence) and find your body was no longer made to go down the twisty slide! And independence has been replaced with total dependence concerning every possible thing you could imagine pertaining to your child. Again, as Maushart explains, “It’s as if we were uncomfortable with the whole notion of choice—as if the exercise of free will were a form of conspicuous consumption too embarrassing to reveal publicly. Maybe we feel deep down that real choice remains a luxury to which, by virtue of being female, we have no natural entitlement.” Very possible.

But then, when you are on your bed, frantically responding to too many overdue e-mails, your child comes in with an armful of stuffed animals, a couple almost half his size. And he throws each of them onto your bed and climbs up to snuggle right up next to you with each of the various stuffed animals. And you quietly close your laptop, put it down, and look into your child’s eyes as he tells you stories about each of his stuffed animals. It’s at that point when you remember what happened to “you.” She became a Mom. And she wouldn’t change that moment or her life back for anything. She is embracing what she now calls Motherhood!

Worried Sick -- by Cara

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about my upper respiratory illness and how it always seemed that no matter how sick we Moms are, we still put our own needs aside for the sake of our families, especially our children.
Well, this week is the reverse. Now I have recovered, however my son came down with...well, we really didn’t know what.

My son started to exhibit signs of not feeling well last Saturday night.
My night owl son, who typically falls asleep between 9:30pm - 10:00pm (genetics...not bad parenting), fell asleep at 8:30pm. That was my first clue. The ONLY time my son falls asleep before 9pm is if he is sick or becoming sick.

The next day, Sunday, my son was extremely cranky and whiny. He also didn’t look very well. He had circles under his eyes and looked extremely tired. We had a birthday party to go to that day and my son wanted to go desperately. But throughout the party, he kept coming out of the play area and would plop down next to me and rest his head on my upper arm. I felt his head...it was hot. But it could have been hot from all of the running and jumping he was doing in the party room. It was when he asked when we were going home that I suspected something was wrong. My son NEVER wants to leave a party early. We stayed until the end, but said our thank yous quickly because I really wanted to get home and take my son’s temperature.

I almost fell over when I did take it. 103.3!! I ran to get him some Motrin, but getting it into him was an even bigger challenge. He hates sweet tasting things, so he can’t stand the children’s liquid medicines.

He won’t take pills, even crushed up and put into applesauce. He didn’t want to eat anything. So we just decided to let him sleep and hoped the fever would break soon. My son’s only request was water. Lots of water.

I lined up little water bottles on the table next to his bed, and by morning they were all empty. And this was the scenario, day after day:
lots of sleep or awake and lethargic. Temps ranging from 103-104ish almost around the clock. No eating of food of any kind. Water, water, and more water. An occasional dose of Motrin when his temps were so high he was practically delirious and would take the medicine with minimal fighting. To put it mildly, we were scared out of our skins.

I have a fairly solid medical background, although I am not a physician.
I have real, professional medical books that I combed through. I went to some professional, medical web sites to look for answers. I even consulted a handy iPhone App called Pediatric Symptoms MD which walks you through determining whether your child’s symptoms need immediate attention, call the doctor in the morning symptoms, or wait a day or two and see what happens symptoms. This handy App suggested calling our Pediatrician first thing in the morning.

I was up that night practically every hour on the hour either checking on my son or hearing his weak requests for more water and running to get some for him. The next morning, we bundled our son up, and my husband carried him to the car and then into the physician’s office. Other than extremely high fevers, our son didn’t exhibit any other symptoms whatsoever, which led the doctor to diagnose him a viral fever. He assured us that the fever would break in 2-4 days. They did a rapid Strep test which turned out negative, but the doctor said he would call us the next day if the overnight test came back positive.

The rest of the day was the same...extremely high fevers, hydrating him with only water, and occasionally being successful at getting Motrin into my son.

Concerned friends were calling and e-mailing. Could it be the flu? The Swine flu? An undetected infection? Were we sure it wasn’t Strep? I called the doctor the next day and said there was absolutely no change in my son and if anything, he appeared to be getting worse and looking terribly ill. The doctor told me to bring my son in the next day for another Strep test and a blood test.

We went back the next day. Again a negative Strep test, no true indications of any type of flu. White blood cell count was NORMAL (which blew me away...how can someone’s white blood cell count possibly be normal when their body is fighting something so hard to handle? But, like I said, I’m not a physician). We left with no definitive answers and a little boy who was getting worse by the hour.

Now it was Thursday. Fevers still hadn’t broken and the time frame for a “viral fever” had expired. We called the Pediatrician again. He said if the fevers didn’t come down by the next morning, he wanted him to get a chest x-ray. Then we noticed throughout the day, the fevers dropped to the 102-103 range. We managed to get more Motrin into our son. As the day went on, the fevers dropped even more to the 101-102 range. Our son still looked absolutely awful, but he started moving around. He wanted food. Of course everything he wanted, we didn’t have in the house. My husband ran to the grocery store. Slowly, our son was starting to eat. Fevers were down again to between 99-low 100s! My son hadn’t slept or taken a nap at all that day. But he had a very full belly and his fever seemed to finally be breaking!

By 7pm that same evening, I had to tackle an enormous pile of clean laundry by folding and putting the items away in my bedroom. My son crawled under the covers of my bed and watched me. After 5 minutes, I heard heavy breathing. He had fallen asleep. I finished a little more folding then turned off the lights and let him sleep.

I went to check on him a couple hours later and found him burning hot and drenched in perspiration. His fever was finally breaking! I didn’t want to move him, so when I was ready to fall asleep, I simply crawled under the covers next to him. Throughout the night I slept lightly, feeling his forehead, which felt cooler. And he sensed my presence because he kept snuggling closer to me and even would grab my forearm and clutch it to him like his favorite stuffed animal. He even interlocked his little hand in mine, drawing it close to his body. I was half asleep but gushing with emotion! This little angel needed me, wanted me, cherished me enough that he wanted to draw himself as close to me as possible and hold on tight to whatever part of me he could. All while in a state of sleep and return from the depths of a terrible illness.

I loved sleeping with him that night. In fact, I think we may have more occasional Mommy and son sleep togethers. I know he felt safe, warm, protected, and loved. I was overflowing with love for this child, even though I didn’t sleep very soundly. But the love I did feel from him was tremendous! He is approaching an age where displaying physical affection, especially towards your Mom, can be a little embarrassing.

But feeling the true, uncensored adoration of me, while my son slept, made my heart swell one-thousand-fold!! I felt so relieved that he was finally on the mend! But most importantly, I felt just how much I really mattered to him. And I know I made him feel exactly the same way! I can’t wait for our next sleep together! I can feel my heart swell as I remember him interlocking his little hand with mine, pulling it real close, and sighing himself back to sleep. The two of us, together.

I'm Scared -- by Cara

I’m not typically the type who gets worked up over minor things. I can usually discern the big things to worry about versus the little things. And I’m definitely not one to scare easily. But I have to admit...I’m scared. Or, to put it more succinctly, terrified.

I had a mammography done last Tuesday and the next day, one of my doctors called me rambling on about something being not very common, but just get the test done as soon as possible, and I stopped him. I politely said, “I don’t know what you are referring to.” “Your mammography, of course! Haven’t they called you to get a sonogram done?” I said no one except he had called me. He told me that according to the fax he received, I have a “suspicious node” that they need to do a sonogram on and possibly a biopsy. I was like a deer stuck in headlights. I was just so stunned, I didn’t even have my head together to ask further questions. The only thing I could think of was...cancer.

My mother died of ovarian cancer when I just turned 19 years old. My son is only 6. The affects of my mother’s death have traumatized me my entire life. I don’t want my son to have to experience that. I REFUSE to allow my son to experience that. That whole night, that’s all I could think of...my mother and my son. Along with, this can’t happen. This WON’T happen. I had a tough time falling asleep that night.

The next day, even before my son left for school, I was barraged with phone calls ALL. DAY. LONG. No sooner did I hang up the phone with the radiology place, then the gynecologist called. The radiology place made me an appointment for Monday. The radiology place called back...no doctors would be in to read films on Monday but they ALL would be in on Tuesday, so they rescheduled me for Tuesday (I thought, what crazy schedule does this place have? Can’t ONE doctor at least be there on a Monday??!! Healthcare is becoming beyond ridiculous. But we’ll save that discussion for another blog). Then the nurse at the gynecologist’s office said, “You mean they let you leave without taking more films?” I explained that, again, there weren’t any doctors to read films in that day. I called several friends I know who went through the same procedure, all with benign outcomes. A couple had to have two biopsies done. My head was spinning. Because all of the medical people I spoke with were nurses or receptionists, I couldn’t get any solid information. Everyone was vague but insistent. One minute I was practically in tears, the next I was being reassured by my fabulous group of friends.

The next thing I thought of was a Health Care Proxy. I needed a new one. Everyone should have one. I called my lawyers office to have my existing one dug up and revised to have my best friend put on it as my agent. She works in the medical field, has had 3 of these types of biopsies and has two very medically savvy parents. I wanted my health care proxy changed ASAP.

Then I thought of my son...he’s so young. He needs his mother. What if this doesn’t bode well and I am in the hospital a lot? Sick from drugs? How does one even attempt to explain this to a 6 year old? He needs me. I need him. We need each other.

My next thought, to try to calm myself down, was the BRACA test I had taken a few years back. It is a genetic test to determine whether you carry the gene to predispose you for breast or ovarian cancer. It came back negative. That’s good. Really, really good.

But then there has been the ongoing, unrelenting high stress level I have been experiencing the past few years. My father’s death. My son’s learning issues. The multitude of arguments with my husband. Anyone with this type of stress would have cells mutating! Heck, my whole life has been one heavy duty stressful event after another! Cells are bound to change with all of the stress hormones that have been washing over them during all this time!

And my friends. My wonderful, incredible friends. At least a dozen of them...old and new...calling me, e-mailing me constantly to find out how I am and reassuring me that everything is going to be okay. I have a lot going for me. I never, ever had even a slightly abnormal mammogram before this. I do regular breast self exams. Heck, I had an appointment with my gynecologist the week before and she didn’t feel anything suspicious when she did her breast exam at that visit.

So, I decided I had to pull myself together and remain as calm as possible. I can’t control fate, I can only control how I deal with it. If it were dire, I’m sure they would have either fit me in for a sonogram that first day or just plain sent me to the hospital to get it done.

So now I wait. And I pray. And I shoveled 14 inches of snow today off my porches, stairs, and walkways, thinking, “Maybe the exercise will be good for me mentally and physically.” And I vowed to do more regular exercise to at least temper the stress hormones. The endorphins can only help me. So shovel I did. And I will go to the gym or find more ways to fit in exercise into my ragged days.

By the time this is posted, I will know my results. Or at least know more than I know right now and have a better idea of what I am facing. Good or bad, I’m making changes. Big changes. And although I have every reason to believe that the outcome will be benign, I’ll be prepared for anything. I’m a fighter. I’m tenacious. And nothing is taking me away from my little boy right now. No way, no how. That’s just how it’s going to have to be,“suspicious node” or not. Nothing is coming between my son and me. Absolutely nothing.

When Mommy is Sick -- by Cara

I had a terrible upper respiratory infection this past week that required antibiotics, fluids and rest. The antibiotics were simple, the fluids were the only soothing thing I could consume since I had a terrible sore throat and laryngitis, but the REST...Ahh where does the rest come into play?

I happened to be somewhat lucky that this illness came about during winter recess because we sent our son to a wonderful place each day where they have indoor swimming and a different theme for each day, along with the option of a hot lunch. I was so sick this week that I dragged my wretched body out of bed each morning, fed my son breakfast, supervised his morning routine of dressing, brushing teeth, etc, and then literally collapsed from exhaustion as my husband took our son to this “Winter Camp.”

I got to thinking how, as mothers, we always put everyone elses needs before our own, so many times, whether we are sick or not sick. And I very well could have let my husband take care of everything for my son since he was home. But that “Mommy Guilt” is what propelled me out of my bed. And it is what propelled me out of bed to make dinner for my son, even though I was shaking and shivering so much, I had to put on a hat and coat just to make my son something simple to eat when he came home from “camp” each day this week.

I guess it would be a little easier if my parents were both alive and young enough to help out in a pinch. Or if I had siblings who were willing to pitch in and help. But because I have literally no one, everything falls on me, sick or well. And let me tell you, it does take it’s toll. Especially when you are in your mid-forties with still a “youngish” child.

I am reading a very insightful, intellectual book called, The Mask of Motherhood,” by Susan Maushart, and in it she states, “One thing is certain: that we will never attain the goal of living comfortably with our choices as mothers until we acknowledge that we HAVE choices and, even more importantly, that we deserve to have them.” CHOOSING to yank myself out of bed when I am cold and shaking was driven by my guilt of not being a “Good Mom” and making my son a home cooked meal. What I SHOULD have done was stay in bed, called my husband, and asked him to bring home pizza for dinner. The family would still have gotten fed, but I would have been in bed resting, where I belonged.

When you have a toddler, or young child who goes to daycare, they are constantly sick and YOU are constantly sick. That’s just how it is. You just hope and pray the cold and flu season passes as quickly as possible and try to do what you can to meet both of your needs as best you can. But this drive to fulfill your child’s need before your own seems to become ingrained in you even from their birth. And even when they get to an age where they can get themselves dressed in the morning and brush their own teeth, as Moms we STILL want to be involved, even if from the sidelines.

I would do anything for my child, as most mothers would, but, as Susan Maushart continues, “Women who diminish their own needs ‘for the sake of the family,’ by whatever means and however sterling their motives, are living a lie. For if families do not begin with mothers, where DO they begin?” And especially if these mothers are “out of commission” by whatever means, does that imply that the family just falls apart?

I think as moms, especially us “Later” moms, we desperately need to tend to ourselves just as much, if not more than our families. We are doing a disservice to our loved ones by forcing ourselves to get out of our sick beds, purely out of guilt! A well, rested, cared for Mom is by far a better mom to everyone. Her children will benefit, her family will benefit, but most importantly, SHE will benefit. Because a happy, nourished Mom, really IS the best kind of Mom!

Snow Days -- by Cara

When I was a little girl, I can remember dancing with joy when the radio announced that our school district would be closed due to a snow storm! My first chore was always to help my Dad shovel the driveway. But once that was cleared, I was allowed to play out in the snow to my heart’s content!

We lived 3 houses away from a golf course, so many children in the area would gather their sleds and in my case, a toboggan, and set off to go sledding down the hills of this exciting “snow course!” Even as an only child, I had a blast, and would often run into other classmates who lived close by! What wonderful memories!

Other times, I would make a snow man and decorate him with one of my old hats, a scarf, and mittens! My mother would provide me with a carrot for a nose and black buttons for eyes, nose and mouth! Cars would actually slow down to observe my work in progress! I adored playing in the snow! And my mother always had a warm mug of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows waiting for me once my excursions in the snow were done for the day! Ahh, the days of childhood!

Now, thirty-five plus years later, I’m not as fond of being outside in the cold as I used to. My son does, though, which is to be expected of a six year old boy! With every significant snow storm (in this case, another East Coast blizzard!), my son can’t wait to get outside to make snowmen!! And because it does bring back those fond memories of my youth, I usually get bundled up with my son, and we set out to make our snowman! The snow this blizzard brought happened to bring perfect snowman making snow - a little wet, but still fluffy!

To my amazement, my son made quite a magnificent base for this snowman! I then showed him how to roll a snowball in the fresh snow to make a medium size middle for the snowman and then a smaller size for the head! But instead of the usual hat, scarf and mittens, my son wanted his snowman to be “cool”. He named the snowman, “Snommie,” and put a bandana, sunglasses, and a cool scarf on “Snommie.” I guess snowmen have come a long way since I was a child!
Then he found two large branches for arms and used small rocks for “Snowmmie’s” mouth. My creative child proved his creativeness!!

As for the sledding, my husband took my son to a local park with hills to sled down the next day in his 4-wheel drive vehicle. Because I had my fill of snow and cold, I didn’t join them for the sledding fun. But I did make myself a large mug of delicious hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. Just the way my mother used to make it! It almost made me want to run outside and make “snow angels!”

Conscience Talking -- by Cara

My blog today is somewhat of an addendum to Robin’s blog from last Friday. In summary (for those who may have missed it), Robin had guests over her house, including a slightly younger boy of one of her friends. Not only did Robin’s son and her friend’s little boy run amok, they locked the adults in Robin’s newly finished basement...twice! Then the lock had to be removed from the door.

Robin posed a question to all of us Moms: When does your child realize right from wrong and if they know they are doing something wrong, when and how do you teach them to do what is right?

I decided to bring this up in today’s blog because shortly after I read Robin’s blog, I was in the kitchen with my son, making dinner, and my son was watching one of those Disney shows geared more towards the teenage crowd. But what caught both of our attention was that one of the “cool” characters evidently did not do something very nice to one of his friends, so the “cool” character’s “nerdy” friend took upon the role of “cool kid’s” conscience.

Because this was the theme of the show, and the word “conscience” was used very frequently, my son asked, “Mommy? What IS conscience?” This was a perfect opportunity to at least instill a grain of what Robin was looking to do with her own son. I waited until a commercial came on, turned the television off, and sat down with my son to try to explain what “conscience” was. I asked, “Have you ever been on the playground or playing with friends and all of a sudden one kid starts calling another kid names?” And he nodded yes. So I continued, “And I’m sure it made you feel confused inside because you didn’t want to be the only one NOT calling the kid names.” And he nodded his head. But because I know what a good person you are, when you actually did call the kid names, it didn’t make you feel very good about yourself...am I right?” And he said, “Yes.” So I explained, that is what “conscience” is. When you do or say something that you know deep down inside isn’t right. But sometimes you end up doing it anyway so that you don’t get picked on either. You end up feeling not so good about yourself. That’s what conscience is...realizing what is good and not good and trying to choose to do what is good because it will make you feel much prouder inside! You will know you chose the right thing to do! And there will be times when you know you should do the right thing, but the feeling to choose the wrong thing will be so strong that you will have a hard time NOT doing it. Then you will not feel good and proud inside. That feeling is called guilt. And guilt helps us to make the right choice the next time even though we made a wrong choice this time.”

Because in the show, the “nerdy” friend was portrayed as the “cool kid’s” conscience, my son asked, “So I have to pick a friend to be my conscience?” And I smiled and said, “No honey, the TV show is using friends as a way to show the “cool kid” how he really should be behaving. Can you see how the “cool kid” is having a hard time trying to decide if he should do the right thing or not? His “conscience” friend is really a friend we all have in our minds...in our heads. Conscience is not outside you, it is inside you and it helps to make you think about what you do before you do it. It helps you decide to do what is good so that it makes you feel good.” My son seemed to at least grasp that conscience was something in your head that controlled “good” and “bad” behavior.

Now, do I think that most of this explanation will have blown by my son like the wind? Of course. But he was asking appropriate questions, so SOME of my dissertation must have stuck with him. And he will remember at least a fraction of our conversation of “right versus wrong.” And knowing my son, out of the blue, he will remember bits and pieces of our conversation and will want me to explain again. And I will be more than willing to do so. I opened up a dialog that I hope will be ongoing. I’m certain that my son will at least REMEMBER that we had SOME kind of conversation when he is faced with a right versus wrong situation. And I would hope that he would come to me and share what happened to discuss whether he chose the correct behavior. And if he is too wracked with guilt over something he did that he REALLY regrets, I hope he comes to me so that I can explain to him that he is feeling very guilty, very sorry about what he did, and also discuss how we can make the situation right again. And that maybe next time, he should be listening a little more closely to his “conscience”.

A Boy and His Dogs -- by Cara

My son loves animals. All animals. Well, except for spiders. But I can’t blame him for that. He especially loves our two dogs. He bonded with our female, Lama, instantly, as she did him, from the day we brought my son home from the hospital for the very first time. And no matter the age, Lama was by his side, almost vying to take care of him. We were told by trainers that even though she is spayed, her maternal instinct could possibly kick in. And boy, did it ever! She treated him just as she would her own puppy and let him do anything...and I do mean ANYTHING to her! When we were teaching him how to brush his teeth, he had to use his own toothbrushes to brush hers (we eventually bought each of them their own!). He would ride her, roll on her, stack cups on her ears, pull her whiskers (“I’m counting them,” he would say). Still, she let him do whatever he wanted to do to her...and still does. Except that now she is close to 15. And is in as excellent health as a 15 year old dog could be! But she sleeps a lot. And she is slowing down. And what a 6 year old boy needs, is a more playful dog. Enter our male dog, Max.

Max was my “baby” 5 years before Brandon came along. Although highly trained and deciplined, Max resented all of the time I had to spend with Brandon when he was young. So poor Max would go off by himself whenever I was busy with baby Brandon. And I tried to give as much attention and affection as I could to Max. But still, it was nowhere near the attachment we had before Brandon was born.

Years went by. Max remained aloof towards Brandon as Brandon grew. But Brandon would try to interact with Max. Max just wasn’t interested. Until now.

I think Brandon realizes that although Lama is spry when she wants to be, she can’t be treated the way Brandon used to treat her. We constantly remind him that he is too big to ride her or put all of his body weight on her. We remind him that she is sleeping and to try to let her rest. You can tell, he wants his dog who had more vigor back.

Now the dynamics are changing. Max has realized that Brandon is staying for good. And although he is not a young dog himself at 11 years old, he has much more pep to him than Lama. So Brandon is again trying to befriend Max and I am happy to see that Max is reciprocating! I am teaching Brandon how to have Max give him his paw on request. I am also showing Brandon through hand signals how to have Max sit, wait or lie down. Brandon thinks he is performing magic! Max just wants to get a treat! But the most important thing is that they are bonding. Bonding in a way I really never thought would ever happen due to Max’s adoration of me. But our relationships are changing. Max goes onto Brandon’s bed to make a “nest,” which Brandon loves. Then Brandon carefully covers him and gives him a stuffed animal to sleep with. I am so proud of both my “boys!”

A rough-and-tumble boy like Brandon needs a rough-and-tumble dog! And although Max is too old to do tricks like he used to or go to agility races, he has enough “spunk” left in him to give Brandon the “boy-dog” interaction Brandon craves! And Brandon is learning not only how to play with Max, he is also learning to be more compassionate to his real “love,” Lama. He still pets her, but more gently. He wants to help feed her. He makes sure she has a blanket and a stuffed animal to sleep with, too. It is sweet to watch him take care of her the way she took care of him. And it is rewarding to know that Brandon still has a “playmate” with Max. I wish both dogs were a bit younger, but I am grateful that both dogs are in terrific health for both their ages! Especially for a boy and his dogs!

Hugs, Cuddles and Eskimo Kisses -- by Cara

In my last blog entry, I discussed how I took a little “vacation” from being a full-time Mom and how my husband wanted to take over running the house, working full-time from home, and taking care of our son and one of our dogs. I must give him a lot of credit. He took on a huge responsibility...one that I certainly don’t think I would want to voluntarily assume! And he is even still loading the dishwasher and emptying it!!

But although I give my husband kudos for doing such an incredible job, I discovered something even more wonderful. The incredible love I have for my son.

When you get caught up in the minutia of daily living with packing lunches for school and making sure the dog got her medication and racing to the grocery store to pick up some desperately needed essentials, you sometimes take your family for granted and don’t show them or tell them how much they really mean to you. Because every day is “beat the clock” day, we overlook how important it is to stop and spend time - REAL, focused time - on our children.

I read a very good book a year or so back that stated that every child has an “emotional tank.” Similar to a gas tank in a car. This author wrote that if you let your car get depleted of gas, it won’t be able to function. He said that it was the same with children. If you don’t fulfill their “emotional tanks,” they, too, won’t be able to function and may become depressed, act out or engage in unhealthy behaviors. But the author assured the readers that if you kept your child’s emotional tank full, as much as possible, they would be happy, secure, self-confident kids!

I often refer back to that description when I notice my son acting out or going out of his way to seek attention. So when I returned home (and found that the dishes had been all put away!), I spent a lot of time with my son just hanging out, reading books, and playing games. He would sometimes cuddle into me almost as if he were trying to resume his place in my womb...all warm, safe, and cozy. We had tickle “fights” and lots of hugs! We had fun kissing each other and then kissing the dog to see who the dog would try to lick back first! And we did a lot of Eskimo kissing (rubbing noses back and forth)! I truly have never enjoyed myself more than I have this past week!! My son’s emotional tank must certainly be overflowing! But my emotional tank is overflowing too! It feels so good to be loved unconditionally, in a reciprocal relationship. And I am going to try to keep both my son’s and my emotional tanks filled as much as they can be, as often as possible!

The laundry can wait to be folded. The dog can get her medicine a half hour later than usual. And the dishes almost seem like they are washing themselves lately! But a child needs constant love and affection. And from now on, my son is going to get that unconditional love from me every day. With an Eskimo kiss as he goes off to school and some cuddles and hugs before he goes to bed. He knows that I love him. And I’m going to keep showing him how much, every single day!

Vacation from Motherhood -- by Cara

My husband and I decided, after much debate, that he could handle taking care of the house, our dog, our rambunctious son, work from home...and do it all really well, all by himself. I said to him, well, millions of Moms do it everyday, why don’t you try it if you want. And he really wanted to. So I said, “Go for it!”

So off I went to stay at a vacant home of a friend I know of, with my dog as my companion, and left him to his desire. The first call came not an hour later, “What are these weird dishwashing cubes and how do you use them?” I told him that they were a new type of dissolving dishwashing soap and to read the back of the package for instructions about how to use them.

Then the first day passed, and I received a call about my son running out of underwear. I decided to pack up my laundry and trudge over to do a load or two because A: I know it took ME, who reads manuals, almost two weeks to fully understand how to use this high-tech, front-loading machine, and B: The last time my husband did laundry, all of the whites turned pink and some of the other clothes looked poorly tie-dyed. So I offered to take care of the laundry.

Then I found out that the fish hadn’t been fed in days! The poor things were staring at me and then looking up at the top of their tanks for some food!! I quickly gave them some food, then wrote a note in bold letters, “FEED FISH EACH DAY!!” My son could easily do that.

The next day there were questions about what to pack for lunch and how do you keep some items cold (umm...an ice pack??)? What does my husband do with school notices (Hmm...read them??), what does he do with the book ordering form (go over it with our son to see if he would like a book or two??). This went on for a few days. At least he remembered to feed the dog!! (I did have to remind my husband to give her daily medication, though.)

To my delight and amazement, after several days, my husband had gotten into the swing of things and I’ve caught up on a lot of work that had been accumulating and have been completing long overdue continuing education credits.

I must also say, living alone for now is giving me time to reorganize my life; embark on activities I had long put aside, and give me a huge breather from the stressful, hectic pace of everyday life! The only other being I need to care for is my dog. And he sleeps most of the time!

This experiment has also given me a window into what my life used to be like, when I was single or what life would be like now if I hadn’t married or had a child. It’s very intriguing. I try to see my son every day, so I’m not completely removed from motherhood. But I am removed from the daily trials and tribulations. On the contrary, I also miss seeing my son do his math homework in the blink of an eye! Or sharing with me that the reason we stand is because of gravity! I know this way of living won’t be forever, but it sure sheds some light on what my life could have been versus what it actually is. They both have their advantages. For now, though, I am enjoying my little “vacation.” Reality is eagerly waiting right around the corner. And the big question? Will my husband still run and empty the dishwasher once I’m back, now that he knows how to use those “little dishwashing cubes”??

Some Things Never Change -- by Cara

When I read Jamie’s blog a couple days ago, I was taken back to the days when my son would fight going to sleep any chance he’d get. Back in the days of toddlerhood, nothing, and I mean practically nothing would cajole this boy to sleep. To make matters worse, he was a vomiter, so we couldn’t just let him cry for very long because my husband and I would be cleaning up from his display of irritation.

He also didn’t sleep through the night until he was almost 3. He’d wake up for water or just want to know someone was around, and I took over the “night shift.” Almost 3 years of non-consecutive sleep. To this day, I don’t know how I did it.

Actually I do know how I managed to catch up on my sleep. We signed him up for full-day Daycare. He had energy to burn at the Daycare and I would spend my day taking naps, which I continue to do now, years later.

I don’t know what kind of magic sleeping dust this Daycare sprinkled over my son, but they got him to take naps. During the week. And only during the week. On the weekends when we knew our son was tired, we would lay down in his room and try to get him to sleep, thinking if he saw us going to sleep, he would follow suit. Didn’t happen. We even invested in a thick exercise mat that either my husband or I would lie down on with him, trying to get him to sleep. That didn’t work either. He would end up climbing all over us, finding things to do. It could take up to and sometimes more than 2 hours to try to get this child to sleep!

I read every book available on how to get your child to sleep, tried every technique. I even called one author to see if I could make an appointment with her and pay $250 to have her help me get my son to sleep! Alas, she was booked 8 months ahead. I had to find a way on my own.

We eventually resorted to taking him on errands on the weekend and while he slept in the car, either my husband or I would sit in the car with him and just close our eyes.

My son is now 6. He rarely falls asleep before 10 pm and if he does, it is usually a clue that an illness is brewing. And he wakes up around 6 am. He is a true 8 hour sleeper, which means that I continue to be chronically sleep deprived because I always wait until he is asleep before I go to sleep. And I usually have at least a half hour of things that need to be done before I settle into the covers.

So, although he is growing and maturing every day, he remains the 8 hour sleeper. And I remain the chronic napper. I am so jealous of Moms who say, “Oh, it’s 7 pm...we have to get home so that Kevin can get his bath and be in bed by 8.” I laugh to myself, thinking, you don’t realize how wonderful it is that your child goes to sleep so early! But in my home, it just will never be.

What age do kids typically go away to sleep-away camp??

Ringing in Change for the New Year -- by Cara

Change. It is just a simple, six letter word. But for some, it can bring on anxiety, while for others, it can evoke excitement and promise of good things to come!

I am hoping for the latter in the New Year. Not only a new year, a new decade! Ripe with opportunity to illicit change and hopefully reap the positive that flows along with it!

In Robin’s last blog, she spoke of change through getting rid of things she really didn’t need anymore; Her pig collection. Or at least a fair part of this collection. And in her blog, she spoke of change. How by “purging” part of her collection, it also freed her to open up to other things. (A cow collection, possibly?)

This past year has been an awful year for my family. My husband, my son, me, even one of our dogs, have all been diagnosed with lifelong medical problems. It is hard enough when one member of a family has to cope with the realization that they have to learn to adapt to a chronic medical condition. Imagine an entire family! And their dog!

It’s been a long, difficult year. But we made it through. Now I want change. Change for the better. I want us all to move past the anger and the grief to acceptance. And from there, I want to move forward to living our lives as happily and as productively as we each can!

Medical condition or not, I have my own plans for the new year! I want to become more involved in a business venture! I would like to do more writing, maybe take a class or two! I want to become more involved in my son’s school! Possibly volunteer as a Class Mom! (Well, okay...maybe not THAT involved! At least not yet!).

Like Robin, I, too, am ringing in change through getting rid of, contributing to charity, offering to others, things that are no longer necessary in my life. Clutter leads to chaos which leads to disharmony. I have clutter. Too much clutter. In just about every corner in my home and facet in my mind. All of it is going to be slowly dispersed with the anticipation that more harmony will ensue.

And when I found out that Robin didn’t sell, but simply gave away her pig collection, that inspired me to want to be more altruistic as well! I also want to feel my heart swell by donating items to others that I no longer have any use for! I recently gave away two iPods that my husband and I no longer used. We gave them away to friends. I was thrilled that the recipients were tremendously happy! My heart did swell! But I was also glad that, like Robin’s pigs, the iPods were going to good homes. Going to people who really wanted them and would use them and get enjoyment out of them and maybe make THEIR new year a little happier! Having two iPods sitting in a drawer was unnecessary. They, along with a lot of other items in our home, need to go elsewhere.

So, as the saying goes, change can be good! Really good! And I am looking forward to seeing that ball drop tomorrow, and cry out, “Happy New Year!!” I know my year is going to change for the better! My wish is the same for you! I wish all our members and readers a VERY Happy New Year!!

Interfaith Traditions -- by Cara

This is always an interesting time of year for our family. And a lot of work for me! See, my husband is Jewish, I am not, but we are raising our son to be Jewish. All of this is fine except for one major thing. My son is in love with everything Christmas, especially Santa Claus!

It all started when my father was still alive and my son was 2 and 3 years old. Since my father didn’t have the stamina to put up his own Christmas tree each year, as he became elderly, we would put one up in our home while he watched us decorate it. And my Mother-in-Law never wanted my father’s holiday to be forgotten, so she would cook a big Christmas dinner for all of us.

My son, even at this young age, took all of this in. Besides the fact that there are Christmas displays everywhere you look this time of year. And Christmas cartoons, movies, and songs just about everywhere. My son became completely enamored with the mystery of Christmas.

Every year, I try to instill both the religious meaning and tradition of Hanukkah in him. But it never seems to trump Santa. “Eight crazy nights!,” I exclaim! “Eight nights of gifts!” The lighting of the candles on the beautiful Menorah he made at religious school! Still, he wants to know when Santa is coming. “How many more days, Mommy?,” he’ll ask.

My father is no longer with us, but the tradition of putting up a tree and decorating it still remain. My son moved all of the items away from the fireplace so that Santa can have easy access into our home. I am wondering how many more years he will still be believing in Santa Claus? I was certain that once he started religious school, the mystery of Santa and his reindeer would be exposed. Didn’t happen. He goes to school with predominantly Jewish children and has mostly Jewish friends. But he cannot be swayed. I’ve brought him to Tot Shabbat services, Hanukkah lightings at our Temple, festivities celebrating Hanukkah! Still, he wants to hold on to the belief of Santa.

So, as we do every year, I put up the Hanukkah decorations first. Read him books about celebrating Hanukkah, make Hanukkah crafts and play “Spin the Dreidel” with him. We watch my Mother-in-Law make potato Latkes. We put on Jewish music celebrating Hanukkah. Still, it all doesn’t matter. He anxiously awaits the man in the red suit and the white beard.

I must admit, preparing for two different winter holidays is not easy. Hanukkah is a little easier, but dragging an artificial tree up from the basement, putting it together, decorating it, making cookies for Santa and wrapping presents for BOTH holidays is a chore. I’m secretly hoping that my son comes to the realization that there really isn’t a Santa Claus. My work load would certainly diminish.

But I’m not going to be the one to squelch my son’s fantasy. It will come naturally on it’s own. Then maybe we can all focus on one holiday, light candles, eat latkes, sing songs and be united in the tradition of Hanukkah. In the meantime, I really wish my son didn’t have to announce to his religion teacher what Santa would be bringing him this year!

Hotel Snob -- by Cara

Back in the days before I had my son, I used to have the flexibility to take several trips a year with my husband, all over the country. For my husband, they were all work trips. But for me, they were more than just “getaways.” For me they were trips where I could do what I wanted, when I wanted and how I wanted! Little mini vacations!

My recent “Mommy Retreat” reminded me of those times. But I found that the most interesting part of my stay was the hotel which was quite intriguing. I’ve been wracking my brain to better describe this hotel, but the best description I could conjure up is a “very upscale Days Inn.” Not that there’s anything wrong with a Days Inn. Some of them are really lovely. But I digress.

I used to be completely enamored with the Hiltons and Mariotts we stayed in! From there it was the Chateau Marmount and Century Plaza (oh, how I adored the Century Plaza!). I’ve even stayed at the Plaza Hotel (before it went Co-op), and I must say, I was completely unimpressed. We also stayed at the Four Seasons! Now that was a treat!

One day, my husband had a reservation to stay at a certain hotel, and had the paperwork to prove it, but the hotel had no information on us in their computer system. And they were completely sold out. Well, my husband, being the eternally persistent person that he is, asked the manager to find us a room, even if it meant that we would have to stay at a different hotel. The manager came back with the news that we would have to stay at a different hotel next-door...The Ritz-Carlton!! They apologized for giving us their “standard” room...which included a marble, jacuzzi bath tub, entirely marble bathroom, the most amazing 300 count sheets and duvet cover...all I could say to my husband was, “If you are looking for me, I’ll be in this room...forever.”

I read a note in the room that said I could have a complementary, scented, hand made soap. I called room service and they brought a basket of 5 different scented soaps along with a loofah back scrubber and a sea sponge!! When I went to pick out a soap, the kind gentleman said to me, “Oh, Madam, this whole basket is for you to enjoy!.” I was speechless. The hotel also sent up complementary wine and chocolate covered strawberries as an apology for making the mistake in hotels! Just staying in this one room absolutely took my breathe away, and it was then that I became what I term “The Hotel Snob.” Nothing, no other hotel experience could even come close to staying at the Ritz-Carlton!

Now I am no longer able to go with my husband on his trips since we had our son. So I always make a small request of him when he goes away: Please bring back some soap, shampoo, conditioner and lotion amenities! He always does. And it connects me a little bit to my former Hotel Snob days. Just recently my husband came back with amenities from the L’Occitane company...I was thoroughly jealous. If he brings back a “no name” brand, I pack it away to give to others in need.

Back to my “upscale Days Inn”...the rooms (suites!) were enormous with a bedroom section separated by a bathroom and kitchen area, and a huge sitting area! They also had “pod” coffee makers and a microwave and fridge. What made all of this odd is that there were rooms on the ground floor ( I had a view of the back parking lot through my bedroom window) and people constantly walking by my front window, so I had to be fully dressed before any curtains could be opened. There were also no Bell Hops, no Concierge; I had to wheel my luggage, Days Inn style, to this pretty magnificent room. I understand that in order to have such large rooms, economical corners need to be cut wherever possible, but this whole experience at this hotel was odd. Even to get to the meeting rooms, you had to walk directly through the formal (or should I say “only”) dining room, while guests were eating. Someone even brought their two, prize-winning Basset Hounds who I heard howling each morning on my way to get coffee! Strange, very strange indeed. I will say that the staff in all areas was exemplary. But maybe I’ll request a third floor room should I ever visit this hotel again. I may have humbled, but that little Hotel Snob is dying to get out...just one more time.

On Being Grateful -- by Cara

Gratitude
There is no greater act than giving thanks.
Remember to acknowledge the goodness in your life.
Quiet your mind, listen to your heart
and fill your soul with gratitude.


I wasn’t very grateful this year. As Thanksgiving approached, I began turning into the Turkey Grinch, “Bah, gobble, gobble!!” I had been getting over Strep Throat, which turned into an upper respiratory infection, and two rounds of antibiotics. My son had been sick (which is where I got the Strep to begin with), my husband was a grouch, and one of our elderly dogs was recovering from a very close to death experience.

What gratitude do I have in my life right now?? There is nothing going right in my life right now!! I wanted to boycott Thanksgiving. Practically everyone in my extended family was fighting off one type of illness or another anyway. No one was well enough to cook anything.
I am usually the one who cooks the turkey, but I could hardly get out of bed. I would have preferred just staying in my pajamas all day!

I had been posting, “Bah, gobble, gobble!” messages on Facebook as others were describing their holiday feasts and posting photos of the pies and other goodies they were making for their family gatherings. I was not thankful one bit. Even well meaning friends posted comments of encouragement. But I was steadfast in my ungratefulness of Thanksgiving this year.

Then something changed in me Thanksgiving morning. My grouchy husband was happy and sweet to me. I looked at the front page of the newspaper and saw a picture of a little girl, six years old, hugging her mother, awaiting a bone marrow transplant. I thought, “Thank goodness MY six year old boy doesn’t have to go through something as horrible as that.”
Then I thought of how well my little boy was doing in school, despite that he has learning issues and we were told before school even started that he would most likely be left back. But he won’t. He’s doing fine. And for that I decided I was HUGELY grateful!

Then my elderly dog, who was near death two weeks ago, looked at me with her big eyes! How grateful that her prognosis turned out to be “excellent,” and that she was eating hoards of food! That she gained six pounds in two weeks, and that instead of forcing her to take horse-size pills each day, she now could take very small pills only a couple times per day! For this, of a 15 year old dog, I was EXCEEDINGLY grateful!!!!

My attitude was slowly changing. I was thankful of my washing machine when I knew of someone who couldn’t buy one yet. I was thankful that our family was economically stable in these very unstable times. Although I grumbled when my ancient iBook blew up, I was even thankful that someone in our extended family had an extra Powerbook they didn’t use anymore, so that I could use it until we could buy a newer one for me. And although I still cough as I write this, among the many things I really am grateful for, I am grateful for all that I DO have, so that I can share them with you!

Crafty Mom vs. Super Hero Turkey! by Cara

My son brought home from school this week a project titled, “The Family Turkey Project,” to be completed before Thanksgiving recess. The object of the project was to come up with a “disguise” for a turkey outline cut from poster board paper. The disguise needed to prevent the turkey from being caught for Thanksgiving! The outline suggested using a variety of craft-type materials such as ribbon pieces, buttons, feathers, uncooked pasta, felt, glitter and/or glitter paint, etc, to help with the disguise.

I was excited! I wouldn’t even have to go to the craft store because I usually have a plethora of crafting supplies in the house! In fact, last Thanksgiving, my son and I made “pine cone turkeys” where we used real pine cones and gathered fallen leaves of every brilliant color you can imagine, then washed, dried and glued the leaves into the pine cone slots as the turkey tails! I even had google eyes and felt for making the turkey’s face! So I was ready for the challenge, wheels spinning in my head!

Before my husband and I even had time to finish reading the lengthy project instructions, my ambitious son came running to us with the turkey outline, completely colored in with a green outfit, a brown mask, black boots, and some type of weapon. He declared, enthusiastically, that he was finished! Finished? Finished!! How could he be finished with visions of crafting materials were still dancing in my head?!

My husband and I were so quick to share in the excitement of him taking the initiative to start the project as quickly as he did. But we also pointed out to him that this was supposed to be a family project that we had to work on together. My son wouldn’t budge. His turkey was not only complete, but perfect. Just as it was.

“But how about some buttons for his outfit or his boots, I queried?”

“Mommy! My turkey is a green Power Ranger! Power Rangers don’t wear buttons!”

“What about some material to make a cape for him?!”

“Power Rangers don’t WEAR capes, Mommy!”

“Maybe we could make his outfit sparkle with some green glitter??”

“No Mom! Power Rangers aren’t shiny!!

My excitement was diminishing. I looked at my husband for support. “It looks like a great turkey disguise to me,” he chimed in, silently thankful that he didn’t have to participate in the project.

“Okay, then,” I said, a little dejected, “Your turkey looks perfect just the way it is! You chose quite the clever disguise!” Crafty Mom no longer had a project to work on. On second thought, where are those foam sheets for the Teepees we wanted to make last year??!! Let me check the bottom drawer...

In Support of Support Groups -- by Cara

I tend to be a quiet and reserved type...not terribly outgoing and mildly social. But for some reason, I am attracted to support groups. Particularly support groups for Moms.

Since my son was an infant, I participated in a myriad number of different groups. Some groups were informative, but I didn’t “click” with most of the Moms. Other groups had members who I felt had different issues and/or a focus to the group that I just wasn’t looking for.

I was thrilled to find Motherhood Later...Than Sooner because not only did I find a lovely group of Moms I have kept in contact with, but my son has become friendly with some of the sons of other “Later” Moms as well!

This past weekend, I went away with a large group of Moms on what I term a “Mommy Retreat.” There were quite a large group of us...150 to be exact, and I found comfort being amongst so many diverse but dedicated Moms.

There were workshops where we each had a turn to divulge a dirty little secret about being neglectful about our mothering. I happened to have divulged SEVERAL dirty little secrets! And the bonding and camaraderie that was taking place in that room at that moment allowed each and every one of us to say, “We ARE good mothers! We’re just not perfect ALL of the time! It was so refreshing to say out loud, “I slack off occasionally and my child still survives!!” Some participants were even trying to “one up” the one who “confessed” before them! We all left, happy, giggling, with a huge weight lifted off our shoulders!

There was also a woman comic who had the entire audience falling over with laughter as she played out daily scenarios that occurred in her home, tongue-in-cheek style! What a great way to start out the retreat and break the ice regarding all the taboos that go on in each person’s household, but no one wants to dare bring the topics up! Well, this lively comic did, and we cheered her on endlessly!

I left this retreat saying goodbye to friends old and new. Learning more about myself and learning more about other miscellaneous topics such as social media! But I mostly reinforced that I love to come together with a group of Moms who understand the pressures of parenting and want to help each other through it as well as spend time remembering who WE are as people, as individuals, and not just someone’s wife or mother!

I came home to a Parenting Workshop to go to at my son’s school the very next day where we really got into a hot debate about parenting and homework issues. Some Moms literally couldn’t understand why homework wasn’t “fun” in every household. Other’s of us moaned in agony just thinking about doing homework with our child. I exclaimed that I had such a horrendous year with my son last year that just THINKING of homework this year gave me post traumatic stress disorder symptoms! This one Mom shot back, “Well, then you’re just doing something wrong.” It was a good thing that the social worker moderating the group knew of my struggles last year and effectively put this other Mom in her place. Still and all, I came out of this workshop empowered and ready to take on the task of parenting in a way only I know is effective with my child!

The NY chapter of Motherhood Later Than Sooner will soon try to gather interested parents into support groups with a highly educated facilitator. I was at a group this facilitator ran and found it filled with energy and bonding where we all wanted to jump into the conversation at once! It was invigorating! I left feeling better about myself than when I first arrived! Maybe you’d like to give a support group a try? And if one isn’t a good fit, move on to another. As for me, I am looking forward to participating in the NY chapter support group and see how it turns out! As they say, you can always learn something new every day!

Do I Want to Be a Grandmother at 50? by Cara

Every once in a while I go on to Facebook to catch up with the happenings of friends near and far. Invariably, I get one of those silly quizzes that pop up. What kind of dog are you? What does your name mean in Japanese? Just as invariably I take a quiz or two if I have the inclination and the time. I found out, incidentally, that my name in Japanese means, “Love Child.” Well, okay, whatever. At least it doesn’t mean, “Burning Sword.”

In any event, I received a quiz from a newly aquatinted friend titled,”Questions About Me.” It was a rather lengthy questionnaire, but after reading the questions and responses my friend had put down, I decided to take the time to answer the questions myself and pass the quiz back to her.

Many of the questions were rather benign, however I almost choked when I read one of the questions two-thirds into the questionnaire. “Would you like to be a grandparent at age 50?” AGE 50??!! I’m 46!! My son is 6!! That would mean that my son would have to impregnate some girl at age 10!!!! NO, I don’t want to be a grandparent at age 50!!! But this got me to thinking. When WOULD I want to be a grandparent?

If I had my son at age 40, and statistics and trends are pointing to later in life marriages and births, what age will I reasonably be a grandmother? I have every hope that my son will attend college. And I would be even more grateful should he decide to go to graduate school or go on to get a professional degree. Would he marry at 25? 30? 35?

My father was an “older” parent and had the joy of seeing my son born at age 86. He had three beautiful years watching my son through his baby and toddler years. And for some unknown reason, even though my father was severely hard of hearing, it didn’t matter one lick to my son nor to my father that they didn’t understand one another. They communicated in a higher form called love.

I think my father and my son had a bond that has continued to transcend his demise. And my son continues to reflect on him with fondness and yearnings of love. I would hope that my son might choose to have children at a slightly younger age than me. It would give me great pleasure to see my grandchildren grow for at least a decade! I could do a lot of “spoiling” in a decade!! (And, yes, I know that only food gets spoiled...but you get my drift!)

But, if my son has a child or children later in his life, as I did, perhaps I, too, could capture a bond of love that would transcend the corporeal. That would make me immensely happy too. Side by side with my grandchild, bringing me a leaf or a stone found on the ground and presented as a gift. Through love that is boundless. Sometime the innocence of the young and the old, brought together, can mean more than spending years trying to establish a relationship with a relative you have a difficult time getting along with.

Well, I have a “few” more years before I need to worry about becoming a grandparent. And incidentally, anyone who draws up a questionnaire with a question such as this, must be, oh, say, 20?

The Disillusionment of Halloween -- by Cara

I really love this time of year! I love the changing colors of the leaves; I love the small piles of colorful foliage gathered on the side of the road; I love picking special leaves of different shapes and colors to make Fall crafts with my son. I also love seeing houses dressed up with mums and pumpkins on their walkways or steps. And I love all of this the best on a beautiful, sunny, cloudless day so that you can see the bold colors of Fall against the azure blue of a cloudless sky! Nature in all it’s splendor before the cold, dark winter settles in.

My son loves this time for a different reason, he loves running in the fallen leaves and the collecting of some pretty ones to make a craft project or two. But he especially loves this time of year because of Halloween! He has cartoon Halloween DVDs which we watch together each year. We savor the Halloween television programs that aren’t too scary! I decorate his room with Halloween sheets and ghost throw pillows. Then we make Halloween crafts to decorate his room some more. And we always have to count down the days until Halloween arrives!

Well, today is Halloween. And my son had a splendid day meeting up with friends to go Trick-or-Treating! He met more friends from school along the way! At one point, he was tired and hungry, so my husband offered to take him out to get a meal while I went food shopping.

For many years now, I have put out a stand and a container of candy with a cute note welcoming the Trick-or-Treaters, kindly requesting that they leave some candy for those who come after them. Knowing that Halloween would be falling on a Saturday this year, we stocked up on six giant, Costco-size bags of candy! Three were more expensive bags of candy and three were less expensive, mixed candies. I got in the habit of putting bowls of candy outside because when my son was younger, if he was taking a nap, I didn’t want the doorbell to ring and have the dogs bark, waking up my son. As my son became older, I would still put out candy because we would be out ourselves Trick-or-Treating and visiting with relatives to show off our little goblin in his costume!

Then, a few years ago, I noticed that I would fill up, what used to be, a white wicker basket, lined with a Halloween theme bandana, and place it outside on the stand at night, only to have the doorbell ring twenty minutes later by a sweet teen Hannah Montana noting that there wasn’t any candy left in the basket. So I gave her a generous amount and refilled the basket again with the last of the candy, only to find that again, twenty minutes later, the doorbell would ring again, and the basket was empty. I had to kindly explain that we ran out of candy but once the tweens left, I remembered that I had a couple boxes of granola bars in the cabinet, so I put those out to have at least something for the kids. Well, thirty minutes later, at about 9 PM, I went to check on the basket and found that some angry kid(s), who were not happy with the granola bars, had flung the basket, granola bars, and bandana into the street! The basket was on the side of the road, along with the bandana, but many of the granola bars had been run over by cars. I picked everything up and declared Halloween over for the night.

The next year, again, when we ran out of candy at around 9 PM, my basket, bandana and stand were all thrown onto our front lawn. Last year some kids actually stole the white basket, bandana and all the candy that was left! At least they left the stand!

This year, the night Trick-or-Treaters crossed the line. I used a fifty-cent Halloween bowl I bought from Target to fill with candy. I put the more expensive candy out during the day when I knew younger children, who came with their parents, would be coming. I saved the less expensive candy for the night Trick-or-Treaters who usually emptied much of the bowl of candy into their bags. I ended up running out of six Costco-size bags of candy at around 6 PM! I had to put a sign on the door stating that we literally ran out of candy. A couple hours later, I went out to turn off the tea lights in the pumpkin my son and his Grandfather lovingly carved together and found it smashed to bits! I am hurt, I am angry and I am disillusioned. There was no reason to destroy something because others were not considerate. Next year, Halloween ends at sundown. Lights out. Treasured items will be out of sight. That is it. Halloween will be over.

Is Yelling the New Spanking? by Cara

I was forwarded an article by a friend this week, written by a New York Times columnist about whether American parents believe yelling at their children is considered what spanking used to be back in the 50s, 60, and to a certain degree, the 70s.

The article shouted practically a unanimous, “yes,” with evidence backed up by child psychology researchers and interviews with parents. Most of the evidence indicated that the same parents who would “never” spank their children, use yelling as a means to get their point across instead. In fact, one blogger admitted on her blog, “I am a screamer. I’m a Mom that screams, shouts and loses it in front of my kids and feel like I’m revealing a dark family secret.”

This may not be so far from the truth. My own parents never spanked me. However my father used to bellow so loudly at me at the smallest of infractions, it almost felt like a spanking. In fact, a spanking might have hurt less at times.

I personally have never spanked my son and have yelled at him only once (not including screaming for him to wait at a corner until I get there so as not to get run over). Every other time, I give myself a time out. I go to another room, lock the door, put earplugs in and listen to calming music for 5 minutes. I’ve been known to put my toddler in a playpen and walk around the house a few times. And on a couple rare instances, I handed my husband the baby, grabbed my car keys and my wallet and drove around the neighborhood for 30 minutes or so.

So what are these experts and researchers trying to tell us? And what really is a frustrated, ready to blow parent supposed to do? According to the New York Times article, both psychologists and psychiatrists generally say yelling should be avoided. At best, it is ineffective (the more you do it, the more the child tunes you out) and at worse, it can be damaging to a child’s sense of well-being and self-esteem. As one researcher put it, “If someone yelled at you at work, you’d find that pretty jarring.” Furthermore, if the tone of the yelling denotes anger, insult, or sarcasm, a child can perceive it as parental rejection.

The bottom line message through this article is: Don’t yell. Easier said than done. But there are strategies to prevent situations from escalating into the “Yell-o-sphere.” One strategy, as I’ve mentioned and used is to give yourself the time-out. Go into another room and scream into a pillow if need be! Be proactive, let young ones know that a transition will be coming soon and repeat it in intervals. Make sure the school age child has the backpack filled the night before. Tell your young ones that going into a store is where the parent makes the purchases, not the child. I personally go shopping while my son is in school. If I were not able to do that, I would forgo sleep and do grocery shopping at 10:00 pm. But that’s just me!

The experts suggest figuring out your own ways to prevent situations that make you most prone to yell. And take a deep breath before the words come out. There, unfortunately, will always be those moments where you just don’t know how to handle certain situations. You’ll blow, but an apology is usually recommended. And you can always do what I do if I know my husband is in a bad mood and may explode. I’ll say to my son, “Honey, just don’t make Daddy mad.” My son knows EXACTLY what that means! Then we BOTH stay away!

"The Great Pumpkin" -- by Cara

At least once each October, I take my son pumpkin picking at a large, commercial farm. My son had been looking forward to it all week, counting down the days! I was watching the weather forecast, praying for a nice day. We went for the first time this season last weekend. It was a cool, windy day, after a storm had swept through the area. But weather of any kind was not going to stop my son from his hunt...the hunt for the BIGGEST pumpkin! Or, shall we say, “The GREAT Pumpkin!”

We tried growing pumpkins from seed this year. However, I think we started out too late and the rainy, cool summer didn’t help with our pumpkin crop. In fact, our crop consists of one small, oval, green, sad pumpkin. I have my doubts that it will grow anymore, especially with the night temperatures reaching now into the 40s. Thus, the pumpkin picking. And the hunt! For the “Great Pumpkin!”

My father-in-law (bless his soul!), had promised my son that he would help him carve the pumpkin if my son picked out a big, round, beautiful pumpkin! Well, my son searched. And searched. And there were plenty of wonderful pumpkins I thought met the “GREAT Pumpkin” requirements! But not for my son. He was looking for the “perfect” pumpkin. And it had to be BIG! One of the BIGGEST pumpkins! Now we had two criteria to meet: “The GREAT Pumpkin,” and the “BIGGEST” Pumpkin! Of course, all subjective in a six year old boy’s mind!

So we searched...and searched...and searched some more. Finally, we found IT!! The ONE!! The ultimate “perfect pumpkin!” I tried to help my son lug it to our wagon, but he wanted to do it all by himself. And this “perfect pumpkin” HAD to have weighed between 25 and 30 pounds! My son was elated! “Just wait until Poppy sees this one! He’s going to say it is the BEST!”

Thank goodness a nice gentleman helped us put the GIANT pumpkin on the scale and another kind worker then put it into the car! I won’t even guess what this thing cost! But this was for my son! For his favorite time of year! Ready to do one of his favorite craft activities with one of his favorite people - his Poppy!!

The next day I dropped my son off at my Father-in-Law’s house complete with carving tools and an immensely excited boy! We heaved this gigantic pumpkin into his house and I left the two of them to their “work.” My Father-in-Law said he would drop off my son and their creation later on in the day.

Finally, I received a call that my Father-in-Law was bringing back my son with a “very creative” pumpkin! Knowing my son, I could only imagine what that meant. When they arrived it was just past sunset, so I gathered an LED tea light to put into the pumpkin to make it light up. When they placed the pumpkin on the steps leading up to our front door, I did indeed see quite an unusual pumpkin! This pumpkin had one “ear,” the typical, lopsided, triangular eyes and nose, and a mouth that would certainly scare away an orthodontist, since several teeth were missing! My son was beaming! My Father-in-Law was beaming! And all I could think of was how proud I was not only that they spent time and collaborated on such an intense project, but that they both obviously loved this pumpkin with all of it’s “uniqueness'!” I kissed them both before saying goodnight.

I then went in to get more LED tea lights....this pumpkin needed to be even brighter!

The Loveliness of "Only" -- by Cara

I recently saw a posting on a mothering website. A question was posed to those who had “only” children. The author of the post wanted to know whether the children were well adjusted and whether the Moms felt “complete” with only one child. The woman who posed this query recently found out that she would be unable to have any more children and was worried that her daughter would grow up feeling “deprived” of the experience of having siblings and whether only child families felt “complete.”

The reason I homed in on this post is because not only do I have an “only” child, I am one. I also pondered and am self-predicting that there are many “older” Moms out there who also have “onlies” and feel perfectly “complete” with this choice. In fact, all of the weekly bloggers for Motherhood Later ...Than Sooner have “only” children!

So why is it that society puts a label and needs an explanation for only children families? In fact, I cannot tell you how many times my own Mother-in-Law has made comments about my son, ending with the phrase, “Well, after all, he’s an only child, so he’s spoiled.” The word “spoiled” refers to food, not children. And it certainly is not a type of behavior, as my Mother-in-Law repeatedly implies. What is so wrong about being an “only?” And conversely, what are the attributes of having an only child?

I would like to start with my own wonderful scenario, which occurred last week. My son lost his first tooth! When I found out, I quickly went to a website that had male as well as female Tooth Fairy selections. I downloaded and printed out the page of Tooth Fairies and showed them to my son so that he could chose which Tooth Fairy he wanted to come and take his tooth. Then we e-mailed this Tooth Fairy (ie. Daddy) because my son had quite a few questions to ask his Tooth Fairy. I also downloaded a certificate that I printed on our color printer, on cardstock, which was waiting for him when he woke up. Throughout all of this, I kept thinking, how wonderful for both of us to totally immerse ourselves in this milestone event and make it as magical and as wonderful as it should be! If I had more than one child, I never would have been able to embrace this event in the same way! And it has nothing to do about money, just time. Incidentally, my best friend's little girl lost her first tooth the same day as my son. She posted something on Facebook that said, "The baby is screaming and I'm out of singles so the Tooth Fairy is bringing glitter glue tonight." When I read that, I thought to myself, how fortunate....how fortunate for us that my son is an only child.

I could list a hundred other examples of how fortunate only children are. And a hundred famous people who were only children, throughout history. I think what it boils down to, though, is the type of parenting a child gets, whether in a ten child household or a household with one, what types of individual temperaments each of the children has and how theirs “fit” within the household “mix.” And also for a child to feel loved, whether number ten or an only.
I anticipate that along with the growing numbers of “older” parents that arise, as time progresses, the number of only child families will grow in number as well. I welcome seeing this societal change as the years pass. Then maybe the labels such as “spoiled” will not only be a misnomer, they will be a thing of the past.

I came upon this fable written by Lokman, an ancient Ethiopian sage:

A hare, upon meeting a lioness one day, said reproachfully: “I have always a great number of children while you have only one now and then.”

The lioness replied, “That is true, but my one child is a lion.”

And, in fact, so is mine.

Halloween Horror -- by Cara

My son’s FAVORITE time of the year is not his birthday, not the winter holidays, it’s Halloween. Now, I find this quite odd because this is not the time of year my son enjoys most because of the obvious - candy! No, my interesting son has no interest in candy of any type, flavor or taste. My son hates ALL sweets, even juice.

So if it’s not the candy that brings such excitement to my son, there really is only one option left. My son loves to dress up in costumes and pretend play! He has been doing this since he was two years old, and we have had quite the collection of costumes! Batman, Superman, Spiderman, pirate, cowboy, safari hunter, handyman! But, as the years went by and the costumes became too small, his interest in costumes diminished for all except one: Spiderman!

I think my son has been Spiderman at Halloween for three years in a row now! I even went out and bought the black (“dark”) Spiderman costume as well as the red and blue one last year, because my son would then have a choice, but his choice flip-flopped just about every hour, if not day! So, he ended up wearing both! One for a special event, and the other one to Trick-or-Treat in. So, Spiderman it has always been. Until this year.

My son is now 6. And I was pretty certain that he would want to be a Spiderman of one type or another again this year. Just to be on the safe side though, I asked him what he wanted to be for Halloween since all of the Halloween signs and displays are already up. His response: A Power Ranger. Well, okay, a Power Ranger works for me. So we pulled up some Power Ranger costumes on the computer so that he could show me which one he liked the best, since there are (I think) six different color Power Rangers. As we were scrolling up and down, I was certain he would want to be the green power ranger, since green is his favorite color. Wrong. Again. He wanted to be a RED Power Ranger because according to my son, the red Power Ranger is the one who is the most powerful. Okay, fine. I just should have ordered the costume online right then and there and been done with it. But no, I decided to send my son and husband on a mission. To buy the red Power Ranger costume at our local party store because the weekly flyer was having a sale on costumes that week. Mark this one as ONE BIG, HUGE MISTAKE!!!

Later that day, my son came running into the house, my husband behind him, with plastic chains across his body and hooks with fake dried blood painted on them hanging off the chains. My son looked elated! My husband looked elated! I looked horrified! My son ran upstairs, chains jingling. When I asked my husband what my son had on, he said part of his Halloween costume. I asked why a Power Ranger costume would have such hideous chains and hooks with it. My husband replied,”It’s not a Power Ranger costume! It’s a Ghost Rider costume! Now for those of you, like me, who are not exactly sure what a Ghost Rider costume is, it is a motorcycle jacket and hat, with a mask depicting a partially decomposing face, accented with these lovely chains I mentioned. Well, I can’t print what I ACTUALLY said to my husband, but it falls along the lines of, “Are you crazy??!! Do you REALLY think that this is an appropriate Halloween costume for a SIX YEAR OLD??!! The mask alone is going to scare his friends!! And their parents!!” My husband made some half nonsensical remark such as, “Oh, it’s just a costume!” And ran up to see my son.

Two days later, I went back to the store where the Ghost Rider costume came from and exchanged it for the red Power Ranger costume. Yes, my son will be angry with me, my husband won’t understand me, but I can at least be able to say that I was the responsible parent. Someone in this family has to be one, it might as well be me. And it usually is.

100% REAL Boy! by Cara

My six year old is such a boy. A REAL boy! A play in the mud, climb a tree, dig a trench boy! Which is not to say that nice, quiet, sit and read boys AREN’T real boys. They are most certainly “real” boys too! But my boy is a BOY! A get down and dirty (thank you, Oxyclean Laundry spray!) boy! So it is of no surprise that my son came home yesterday with (and my “boy” husband bought for him) new pets: Hermit Crabs!!!
I realized my son was a “real” boy around age two. Up until then, I had bought my son “gender neutral” toys such as building blocks, shape sorters, farms and farm animals, a varity of animal theme books. But one day, we went to a playdate at a friend’s house. This friend of mine has two boys, one my son’s age and the other a couple year’s older. And scattered all around my friend’s playroom were trucks! And cars! And trains! All toys my son had never seen, let alone played with before!! At that moment, I knew that there most definitely is a gene in boys for preferred play with trucks, cars and trains! My son made a bee-line right to the biggest truck he saw and started pushing it all around, making vrooming sounds as he went! How did he know to do this? Where did he learn to play with the trucks and cars this way?! The only explanation I could rationally come up with was that it was in his genes!
My son was then obsessed with trucks, cars and trains! Every truck he saw while we drove, he would call out, “twuck!!” as if he had never seen one before! So the nice, “gender neutral” toys slowly were replaced with trucks and cars of every size. And along with that, another obsession emerged: Trains. Particularly “Thomas the Train”, trains! At one point we probably had close to 30 Thomas trains, and wooden tracks, bridges, tunnels, and every sort of accessory one could imagine for these trains! We even had just about every Thomas DVD ever produced! And every day, after I picked my son up from daycare and fed him, we had to put in a Thomas DVD and build a track system so that as many trains as we had at the time could all caravan behind Thomas! But alas, this extremely expensive train obsession came to an end by the time my son turned four. I refuse to throw away hundreds of dollars worth of wooden trains and tracks, so they are packed up and ready for a special friend, when her baby’s train gene emerges and he wants to play with trains!
Then, around the time my son turned five, we were digging in our garden to plant a flower, when my son spotted an earthworm! A big, fat, pink earthworm! No more than 5 minutes had gone by when, like the whirlwind my son is, he ran inside the house, got a plastic container, put dirt in the container, and in went the earthworm...named, “Wormy.” I knew right then I was doomed. My REAL boy was blossoming into now 100% REAL boy! And what does a mother of a REAL boy to do than to “adopt” a garden worm? Thankfully we were going on vacation ten days later and my son’s pre-K teacher agreed to “watch” Wormy while we were away. Even better, my son forgot about Wormy after we returned, so his teacher let it go free in the dirt outside without my son even aware.
From there my son spent months begging for a “pet” snake. I negotiated and bought him an earthworm hatchery kit. I tried to convince him that they were “small snakes.” But eventually we had to let them go free in the garden. Then we bought caterpillars and watched them hatch into butterflies! We kept them and fed them fresh fruit, but you could tell that they wanted to fly free, so we watched them go! Next my son became obsessed with lizards and geckos and wanted one of them as a pet! Both my husband (thankfully) and I vetoed both of those creatures.
Well, now we have new pets:“Hot Rod” and “Speedy” (neither of them moves much, but okay, they can think they are racers!). And although I adamantly put my foot down that I would NOT care for these creeping, crawling things, I know that their care will ultimately fall to my domain of care. Oh, and did I mention that we already have two dogs and two fish? And guess who takes care of those?? Hmm??

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!