Work/Life Balance...Huh? by Jamie

I came home from a much-feared Statistics test the other day, and breathed a sigh of relief. I thought I’d done pretty well on the test—and now I had about two hours to myself. My dad was picking Jayda up from daycare and taking her to the library for awhile so I could have some down-time. And what did I do? I raced around the house, stripping my bed and washing my sheets, wiping down my ridiculously dusty bedroom furniture, and then donned rubber gloves and attacked the downstairs bathroom. The following afternoon, when I finished writing a paper ahead of schedule and found myself with several “extra” hours, I manically scrubbed all of Jayda’s mildewy bath toys with giddy satisfaction, sorted through all of her summer clothes, and cleaned out my sock drawer. Literally. Spare time well spent.

A friend of mine recently posted a query on Facebook about work/life balance:”Who keeps perpetuating this myth that people can have a work/life balance? It's not working for me.” And a clever male friend remarked “single people... the rest of us are just making it up as we go…” I couldn’t have said it better myself. I may not be commuting to a full-time job anymore, but between freelancing and school (and stressing like crazy about both), it’s impossible for this single mom to get everything done…let alone actually relax. Factor a Type-A personality like myself into the mix, and it’s almost laughable. For instance, my mother has been offering me a “free” massage (she bought a package from a local masseuse and has one to spare) for months, but I haven’t had the time to take her up on her offer. Oy.

Lest I seem too pathetic, I do make time to go out for drinks with friends every few weeks, or out on an occasional date, but more often, I’m spending my evenings doing work, studying, or desperately trying to catch up on my sleep. And last week, when my plans to go out for drinks with a girlfriend fell through, instead of kicking back with a glass of wine by myself in front of the television—as a person with a “good work/life balance” might have—I cracked open a Diet Pepsi and a textbook, instead, and did some studying. I couldn’t miss the opportunity (or the opportunity to do a load of laundry, too, as there’s always laundry to do!).

I always pay my bills on time, but my filing system sucks—and I rarely balance my checkbook. Mind you, I never bounce checks—but I can’t take the time to nitpick over every number like I probably should. I never leave dirty dishes in the sink, but I also drink out of soda cans and eat out of take-out containers to lessen the amount of cleaning I’ll need to do. And cook? That rarely happens. I do sort through Jayda’s clothing seasonally because that girl is growing like a weed—but I’m guilty of never going through my own closets; I have clothes in there from pre-Jayda years, that I just don’t have the time to go through (or the energy to throw out). I hear about kids who get baths every night and I don’t understand how or why their moms can make that happen. My daughter’s lucky if she bathes every other night (and believe me, if it was up to her, she’d NEVER get into the bathtub). Working moms have to cut corners, somehow—and something’s gotta give. I never have time to watch DVDs, let alone TV. In fact, if it wasn’t for the Wiggles DVDs I order for Jayda, it would probably be more economical for me to cancel my Netflix subscription right now.

The only thing I do have time for is my daughter: we have several play dates every week, and we do things together after school almost every day. And I always have time for cuddling with her in bed. I’m an excellent multi-tasker, and combining sleepin’ and lovin’ all at the same time is my forte. Because there’s one thing I can always balance: Jayda’s head on my chest and her arms wrapped around me. But as for the rest—my life is definitely off-kilter. And with a kid relying on me, and work that always needs to be done, I’m not sure that’s ever going to change.

My Little Fashionista -- by Jamie

Before becoming a mother, I suspect I sometimes looked judgmentally at little girls in completely mismatched outfits…never really understanding why their moms let them leave their houses looking that way. But now I understand that often the way a child dresses really isn’t under the mother’s control. Sometimes it’s not worth battling with your daughter over outrageous fashion choices when you’re already battling to leave the house on time.

Jayda was fighting with me over her outfit selections earlier than I ever imagined she would—probably by the time she turned two. The blissful baby-dressing years—when I’d been able to dress Jayda in whatever I wanted without consulting anyone else’s opinion—ended abruptly, and she was soon pulling clothes out of her drawers, rejecting many of my choices, and throwing fits when I insisted that her clothing selections didn’t match, were out of season, or, simply no longer fit her.

To appease Jayda and foster her creativity, I gave my daughter carte blanche over her pajama choices; I filled the bottom drawer of her dresser with all sorts of tops and bottoms, and let her pick out whatever she wanted to wear at night. Often that meant polka dots on top and stripes on the bottom. Or pink velour pants with a green cotton shirt. And that was fine with me. Jayda’s wacky outfits were confined to the bedroom and I was content. But of course that wasn’t enough for Jayda; it wasn’t long before she wanted control 24/7.

Now, every morning, Jayda is in charge of picking out her clothes for school; I do get to supervise and offer opinions, but Jayda gets the final say (unless my daughter is insisting on wearing a sundress in 30 degree weather, in which case I put my foot down). Fortunately, I don’t have it as bad as some moms at daycare—who are forced to send their kids to school every day in swirly dresses, or swathed in pink from head to toe. But I do have to make sure that I do laundry constantly, because Jayda is obsessed with her Tinkerbell underwear (and asks for it constantly…throwing fits if I inform her that it’s dirty), and goes through phases where she likes to wear the same things over and over again. And lately, she gets very upset if I don’t listen to her fashion advice while dressing myself, as well.

A few weeks ago, I put on a tailored burgundy shirt I hadn’t worn in ages and Jayda snarled at me: “I don’t like dat, Mommy! Throw it in the garbage!” When I told her that wasn’t going to happen, she got very upset: “What?! You’re not taking it off, Mommy?” I was forced to placate her with fruit snacks and a Max and Ruby video, to make up for my “defiance” of her request. But alternatively, I scored points by purchasing a new “pokie”-dotted bra that Jayda thinks I look “bootiful” in…and believes I should wear “every day!” She even likes to check to see if I am following her advice (and, as I mentioned before, it’s a good thing I do my laundry very often!).

Fortunately, along with the bra, there are plenty of things in my closet Jayda does like—especially shirts that are pink or purple. And when she looks through my clothes, my daughter likes to remind me, “when I get bigger and bigger, I’ll wear these, too, ok?” Sounds fine to me…it would sure save us shopping time…and a heck of a lot of money!

Finding Focus -- by Jamie

I’m back in college after an almost 20-year hiatus, and attending my classes has been a bit of a juggling act, between dropping Jayda off at daycare at her designated hour (and not earlier, because I’m trying to save money), and then trying to beat traffic and snag decent street parking near Queens College—to say nothing of the challenges of participating in the classes, and doing the class work, while still freelancing and being a devoted single mom. But one glitch I didn’t expect is that I’d feel like my three-year-old daughter when it comes to studying for my tests: I just can’t focus.

This past December, my mother gave Jayda a LeapFrog computer for Hanukkah. Jayda was thrilled when she unwrapped the gift, and squealed with delight. She then insisted we hook it up right away so she could test it out. I rushed to attach the device to the television as fast as I could, and as soon as I turned it on, Jayda sat in front of her new “puter” and started to play; less than five minutes later she stopped and stood up: “I done!” she announced, and ran off to do one of her puzzles. My mother’s jaw dropped and she turned to me questioningly. I just shrugged; this was normal Jayda-behavior. My daughter rarely focuses on any activity for longer than a few minutes. She doesn’t even like to watch TV for very long…which is probably a very good thing, developmentally
(though at times when I’d love to keep Jayda occupied while I’m cooking dinner or attending to an important task, I don’t always see it that way).

Similarly, Jayda is still too young and “unfocused” to sit through a movie, or any theater performances. When we went to see “Disney on Ice,” she loved it, but by the end of the first act, she was pretty much “over” it, and was much happier walking back and forth to the bathroom with me and visiting the refreshment stand. And on President’s Day, when we attended a 1-hour “Blues Clues Live” show, Jayda eagerly watched for 50 minutes (while periodically digging into her bag of popcorn, turning around to watch the other kids, and chatting with me about the show), and then squirmed off of my lap and announced “I ready to go home now” before ever discovering the last clue.

As a 40-year-old, I’m much more focused than Jayda—I can certainly watch three-hour movies and Broadway shows—and these days I can even sit through a not-so-scintillating two-hour Social Statistics lecture once a week. But when it comes to studying…oh my. Last week, I faced my first big test since returning to college, and preparing for it was a nightmare.

My biggest mistake was sitting by my computer to study. First, there was the “ding” of my incoming emails to distract me…and of course, I had to check every one. And if any of those emails included a Facebook comment, I then logged on to my Facebook account to take a closer look. Talk about a time-suck! Sitting by my computer also tempted me to do my “regular” work—instead of studying. Of course this was work that I did need to do—but not imminently. Now, as a freelancer, I’m used to working from home, but for some reason, studying requires much more discipline from me than working…and I’m more easily distracted from it, no matter what mundane tasks are calling to me; on my study days, I easily found myself “escaping” to do laundry, to clean the bathroom, or to run out “just for a few minutes” to do some food shopping. Anything to avoid my text book. When it’s pre-test time for me, just like Jayda racing from toy to toy at a play date, I find myself moving around my house taking care of anything and everything that isn’t related to college coursework.

Back in my undergraduate years at the University of Michigan, I often studied at night for a few hours—and then met my friends at a college bar afterwards. Thinking back on that astounds me because these days, I can barely keep my eyes open after 9 pm. But I guess the lesson here is that back at the U of M, I rewarded myself for my studying and, ultimately, I have to learn to do that now. I need to find something to inspire myself (other than a Long Island Ice Tea and a chance to see my latest crush) to get through my next studying ordeal. Because I know my unfocused three-year-old also performs better when she gets rewards…and clearly we have a lot in common.

They say as we grow older, regression eventually sets in. True, I’m only 40…but maybe it’s already starting to happen to me, because one thing is for certain—I can sure use a nap right about now!

Making Our Relationship Work -- by Jamie

Jayda accompanies me to my gym every weekend. First, she joins me in the locker room while I change, and both of us converse with the women around us, who always greet Jayda enthusiastically. Then, Jayda goes into the daycare center to play for an hour or so, while I work out. Along the way, Jayda stops and stares at all the men and women who are training in the gym and bombards all of us with questions, watches the step and spinning classes with obvious fascination, and simply enjoys being in the venue as much as I do—and appears to have a lot of fun with me, chatting and socializing.

The other day, an older woman approached me during my work out and told me that she loved watching me with my daughter and that we “reminded her of herself and her daughter” when her child was Jayda’s age. She then proceeded to tell me about how she had raised her daughter (who is now in her early 20s) by herself following her divorce, and how they had been “buddies” in the way Jayda and I appeared to be. But then she said she “had to warn me that having such a close relationship did have its downside,” and explained that when her daughter had hit her early teens, she’d rebelled. The mother and daughter quickly went from “best friends” to barely speaking and it was a very trying time. She assured me that now her daughter is a successful businesswoman—which I thought meant there was a happy ending to her story—but when I asked, “so now you guys are close again?” she shrugged her shoulders and made a face. She said that now, her daughter’s always so busy and never has time for her mother; she never calls her mom for advice, and always cuts her phone calls short because she “has work to do.” But this, too, the woman warned me, was the “downside of raising her daughter to be so independent,” which she was forced to do as a busy, working single mother. She claimed her daughter didn’t “need” her help or advice because she was taught to be self-sufficient at such an early age.

This woman’s story made me very sad. And the worst part is that she was comparing her family to mine! Of course I don’t know how Jayda’s and my story will “end,” but I’d like to think there are a few important differences that will assure my family of a happier ending than my ill-fated gym friend’s. First of all, though Jayda and I may appear to be “buddies” at the gym, we’re not. I’m Jayda’s mother—and I’m in charge. As difficult as it is to do sometimes, I do make rules and set limits. A single friend of mine recently told me, jokingly, that it was a good thing she wasn’t a mother because “any child of hers would be obese!” She was referring to the fact that she’d never be able to say “no” to candy at the supermarket—and would likely give her son or daughter anything he or she asked for when it came to junk food. I laughed…and then I told her she had a point. It is very difficult to say “no” to Jayda when her big blue eyes are fixed longingly on a bag of M&Ms at the check out counter of CVS. Or to hold my ground as that same adorable girl protests, “but I a good girl, mommy!” after I refuse to let her eat chocolate chip cookies for breakfast. But mommies are supposed to keep their kids healthy…and they’re supposed to set limits. And they’re also supposed to let their kids know that the mommies are the decision-makers—not the kids. Jayda’s “buddy” might let her stay up as late as she wants to at night; I most certainly won’t. In fact, I’m a stickler about Jayda’s bedtime. And though she’ll throw a tantrum now and then—or even shout “I don’t like you, mommy” in a fit of unhappiness—Jayda knows I take care of her—and I always will. And that’s the most important thing in the world to both of us.

Another difference between me and my gym friend is in our concept of teaching our children independence. An independent person doesn’t have to be a disconnected one. Just because I’m teaching Jayda how to take care of herself doesn’t mean I’m training her to never consult me about anything. Hopefully she can follow in my footsteps in that sense: In college, I was independent enough to travel to Australia to study for a semester…but I still “needed” to check in with my parents on the phone at least once a week for support, advice, or even just to share a good story. And now, I’m a mother, myself, raising my own daughter, but I still “need” my own mommy sometimes for help with a problem. Just because I know how to take care of myself doesn’t mean I have to do everything alone. That’s the kind of independence I think every woman should exhibit….and the kind I’m hoping to foster in my own daughter.

Similarly, I think an important part of being able to take care of oneself is knowing how to take care of others. And I’m raising my daughter to do just that. It’s another thing that I hope will keep our relationship thriving until I’m old and gray: Jayda and I take care of each other. Of course as the mother, I’m in charge of the big issues and responsibilities, but there are plenty of ways that Jayda can help take care of me…and she does. For instance, just the other evening, I asked my daughter if she was tired and she said, “No, mommy. Are you?” When I admitted I was “a little tired,” she instructed me to lay my head in her lap and “rest for a wittle while.” She even covered me with one of her baby’s blankets while she sang “Rock-a-Bye Baby” to me and stroked my hair (though I declined the binky she offered). It was a precious moment and I savored it for as long as I could. Then I got up and made us a healthy dinner—with a few M&Ms for dessert.

Missing Men -- by Jamie

When I first considered becoming a single mother by choice, all the books and materials I read warned me about the importance of surrounding my future child with positive male role models. I figured that wouldn’t be such a difficult task, as I knew my generous, loving father would be greatly involved in the upbringing of my child, and I also had a handful of other terrific males in my life whom I could count on. For instance, I’d been assured that my sister's husband would be a strong presence in my child’s life, as he was a bit wary about my decision to raise a child without a father figure, and told my sister that he’d make sure my daughter always had him to lean on. I also had several good male friends whom I knew I could always rely upon, and assumed they would continue to be involved in my life after my baby was born.

When Jayda arrived, my father stepped in, as I'd predicted, and became a doting grandfather and the perfect male role model any mother could want for her child. And it wasn’t as if I could ignore the idea of having men in my child’s life even if I wanted to; from the start, my daughter appeared to adore men wherever we went. As a baby, she'd coo at the busboys when we went to the diner, and bat her eyelashes at our pediatrician during her check ups. When she started her gymnastics class at 18 months, she almost immediately threw herself into the lap of our attractive male instructor. And because of that early love affair, I made a great effort to keep Jayda involved in the gymnastics program, semester after semester after semester—partly because it was a great class, but more importantly because I wanted Jayda to have a weekly connection with a charismatic male teacher who aimed to improve her confidence. But when I mentioned this to one of my married friends—who had lost her own father at a young age—she laughed at me, and told me to relax and not try so hard. She said her own mother had made absolutely no effort to surround her with any positive male role models after her father had passed away, and she'd turned out fine...and you know what? She's right. She’s a strong, successful, well-adjusted woman—and a great mom, herself.

As it turns out, Jayda's uncle, who'd pledged his early devotion to her...well, he's never around. Yes, he does love Jayda in his own way, but physically, he’s more devoted to his job and his friends and his own life, and barely manages to see Jayda more than five times a year. And my once-cherished male friends? I barely speak to them anymore, myself—let alone rely on them for teaching Jayda about what good men should say or do to a woman.

I've always prided myself on having male friends. Just friends. True...maybe sometimes there was a flirty dynamic between me and a few of those guys, but in the grand scheme of things, we really were JUST friends. However, lately, I've felt let down by just about all of them. And it's not that I expected them to all be there for Jayda (though, that would have been nice)...I just expected them to always be there for me. Because while it's nice for a woman to have her girl friends—and good gal pals are certainly irreplaceable—male friends have their significance, too. Especially for strong, independent women—who, let’s face it, are the type of women who generally become SMCs. Because while I often acted a little tough around my guy friends, I was also able to let my guard down and be a little girlie-girl when necessary. And best of all, my guy friends were great about helping me with things. Fixing stuff for me. Giving me advice about things a woman like me knows nothing about: Car engines, mutual funds, hard drives, and a zillion other random-but-important issues and objects. And they did so in ways that are different than when a girl friend helps me out. I’m not saying I’m good at playing the part of a damsel in distress (far from it!), but sometimes a woman needs to have a guy take care of her…even if it’s just a guy friend. And I miss that. But most of all, I simply miss my guy friends.

But I guess not every man wants to hang out with a single mom. And, of course, it’s true, many of my former male friends and I don’t have all that much in common any more. Some of them used to love swapping dating stories with me—and since I’m not the serial dater I used to be, my stories aren’t as plentiful or exciting as they once were. Another former male friend used to drag me to see bands with him every week; I rarely have the time (or the babysitter) to do that, these days. But I wouldn’t mind seeing a show every now and then…if he’d actually ever invite me now! But what disappoints me more than missing the guys, themselves, is that these guys are missing out on the best thing that’s ever happened to me—Jayda. Oddly enough, instead of me needing these men as “good male role models” for my daughter—who I believe is thriving and doing just fine without them, thank you very much!—I feel like they’re the ones missing out on something. They’re missing out on the warm, witty, amazing daughter I’ve been blessed with…and the remarkable mother I’ve blossomed into because of her. And that’s a shame.

As Jayda’s mother, I can see a lot of myself in my daughter. And, similarly, we both like men a lot: We often turn our heads to take a second look at them, find many of them attractive and charming, and we certainly like to flirt with them. We know there are some good ones out there, and, unfortunately, some not-so-good ones. And all I can do is continue to encourage Jayda to become a strong, confident, intelligent woman—and hope she’ll make the right choices in the men she befriends. But as for “surrounding her with positive male role models,” I’m not going to force the issue. Jayda has plenty of people around her who love her—and it doesn’t matter whether they’re women or men—as long as she can count on them. And she can always count on me. That’s enough.

Worried Sick -- by Jamie

Lately, all of Jayda’s dolls have been throwing up. The other night, as Jayda was munching on a snack bag of animal crackers, she asked me if Big Baby (her favorite doll) could have one of her cookies. “Sure,” I said, and proudly praised her for sharing her snack. Just moments later, Jayda shrieked, “Big Baby is throwing up!” I then had to stop everything I was doing to help Jayda climb up on a step stool so she could hold Big Baby over the kitchen sink, just as I had held my daughter several weeks before, when Jayda had suffered from the stomach flu and couldn’t make it into the bathroom in time. While Jayda was ill, I also showed her how to throw up into the toilet, and now she sometimes takes her dolls to the bathroom and takes care of them while they “get sick” there. Other times, she lets a doll lie on the couch with her and tells me it’s ok if her baby throws up on her legs, as Jayda did on mine once, when she was in the throes of her sickness.

Jayda is a doting mom to her babies, and I like to think she tries to imitate me. The last, and only other time Jayda had a stomach bug, was when she was an infant, and fortunately, she has no memory of those horrible few days. So I guess her recent discomfort—and my subsequent care of her—has left quite an impression on my daughter. However, I’m getting a bit tired of this puking phase—especially when Jayda uses it as a means of manipulating me. Now, whenever she wants to get my attention, she tells me she’s going to throw up—or, simply, that her belly hurts. Of course I initially play along…rub her tummy, dote on my daughter, and then, I cleverly remind her that junk food is likely to give her a stomach ache, and that if she really has one, she’s going to have to abstain from any treats. Usually, that instantly cures her.

But all of this belly aching makes me wonder: Why does Jayda obsess over some things, and not others? Why have the symptoms of a 24-hour stomach bug carried over into her daily life, while other not-so-wonderful experiences are immediately forgotten? I’m simply amazed by what Jayda chooses to remember…and what she forgets. Before Jayda came down with the stomach flu, we had plans to meet a friend in the city to see “Pinkalicious: The Musical”—a silly, kid-friendly play based on Jayda’s absolute favorite picture book. Jayda was immensely excited about the prospect of seeing the play—and about seeing her friend, too. But once Jayda’s sickness subsided, and I began quietly obsessing over how to explain to Jayda that she was too weak to go to the city, and that we’d have to miss the show, she never even mentioned “Pinkalicious.” It’s been weeks, and Jayda has still never asked about the tickets. It’s like the show never existed.

Maybe it’s a child’s right to have selective memory—just as Jayda seems to have selective hearing when I admonish her for things she’s not supposed to be doing—but it sure makes this mom a bit batty. It seems I’m always worrying about how traumatized Jayda will be by some events that ultimately never seem to even bother her. Like my return to school, for instance. While in theory, it hasn’t changed Jayda’s life much yet (she gets dropped off at day care a bit earlier two days a week—and that’s all), I can’t help but worry what kind of a toll it will take on her in the future, even though the commute, the extra work, and the stress are all mine with which to deal right now. A few times last week when Jayda asked about my day and I told her “I went to school,” she actually got a bit combative and countered, “I go to school, too!” It made me wonder if she thinks she has to compete with me now. I assured her that while we both do go to school now, her school is just as—if not more—important than mine. But of course I wondered if my assurances were enough. Then, the other day, Jayda continued a similar conversation with, “Why you go to school, mommy?” I responded, “I need to make more money for us,” and she countered, combatively, again, “I make us money!” as she grabbed me and two of her dolls in a big embrace. So maybe, yet again, I’m worrying for no reason. In her sweet toddler way, Jayda’s just trying to be a doting mom—and that’s behavior I can definitely learn to stomach.

Happy Birthday, to Me... -- by Jamie

It’s my birthday today. Or, as I like to call it every year, the start of my “birthday month.” I love my birthday, and this year, as I launch a new decade, it seems like more of a reason to celebrate than ever. Weeks ago, as this milestone day was approaching, and Jayda became involved in the party planning and discussions of all the festivities, she asked me, “Are you going to be 2-1/2?” I answered, “No,” and with resounding enthusiasm, informed her, “I’m going to be FORTY!” “Wow!” she responded. But since she can only count up to 20, she really has no idea of the magnitude of this birthday. I have, however, raised her to understand how important birthdays are, in general, thanks to my own upbringing. My parents always made (and continue to make!) a huge fuss over me on my birthday, and I do the same for Jayda. My daughter knows that a birthday equals tons of attention—and is intended to be a perfect day filled with presents, fun activities, and cupcakes, of course (or, in a worse-case scenario, a sheet cake with tons of gooey icing).

When I was a child, on the night before my birthday, after I’d gone to bed, my parents would hang a string of balloons outside our house, from the front door to a tree several feet away, “announcing” my birthday to the whole neighborhood; they did this for my siblings—and for themselves, too—as it was (and still is!) a Levine-family tradition. Every year, when I woke up on the morning of my birthday, I’d look outside my window and see the balloons, and smile. It’s amazing how happy and hopeful those balloons could make a person feel—even a 40 year old.

For children, birthdays are often all about parties, presents, and treats—and who can blame them? Personally, I fondly remember going to ToysRUs with my mother and picking out all kinds of toys for myself as an annual birthday tradition. I also remember my deliciously messy make-your-own sundae parties, Carvel ice cream cakes, candy-filled piñatas, and staying-awake-all-night-long slumber parties with a houseful of giggling girl friends.

But as an adult, birthdays take on new meaning. Some people choose to ignore their birthdays; I like to embrace them. On one level, I think it’s important to acknowledge—and celebrate—having lived another year. And while it’s true this has been an unusually challenging year for me—full of plenty of ups and downs—I do still have so much to be grateful for—namely, my daughter, Jayda. It would have been heartbreaking for me to reach the age of 40 without having become a mother, and I’m so thankful I made the choices I made, and was able to have a child on my own, almost three years ago.

On a more selfish level, I simply love the idea of having one day (or one month?) out of the year that’s focused on celebrating me! Because let’s face it: I like the attention. I don’t need presents. I don’t need expensive dinners out. It’s not about money being spent on me…but really the thought that counts. I simply enjoy having people calling me, sending me cards, and wishing me “Happy Birthday!” Of course, this year, I did want a slightly bigger deal: I wanted my friends and family to “really” celebrate with me. Which is why I decided to have a party. Fortunately, my incredibly generous parents helped me organize it, and I had wonderful friends who were able to eat, drink, and be merry with me. It was a great way to kick off my birthday, which I hope will be filled with all the phone calls, emails, and attention I crave—from loved ones around the country, and the globe. I just want people to remember me—and to continue to celebrate with me—as I turn 40, and beyond. That’s all this birthday girl really needs. Because birthdays—like life—should be filled with loving friends and family, happiness, a little sugar, and a few nice surprises along the way.

What Goes Around Comes Around: Sending Sick Kids to School -- by Jamie

Last week, after a perfectly normal Thursday, I put Jayda to bed, only to have her wake me up at 2:30 a.m. saying, “Mommy, something’s not right.” I touched her forehead, and it was burning hot. After taking her temperature and discovering it was 102.6, I dosed her with Tylenol and insisted she put a cold cloth on her head while I held her in my arms. Always the drama-queen, Jayda then started moaning, “I sick, mommy…I sick.” “I know, baby,” I murmured, “Mommy’s here…and I’ll take you to the doctor first-thing in the morning.”

“I don’t want to go to the doctor!” Jayda snapped back. “I want to play!” And she jumped out of bed and proceeded to do just that…for two hours. Some fever. After dozing on and off, myself, until 4:30 a.m., I finally coaxed Jayda back into bed with me, and she fell asleep in my arms. At 6:30 a.m., I woke up and felt her forehead, and it was cool as a cucumber. The thermometer confirmed this, displaying 98.6 degrees. And yet, despite Jayda’s protestations, as well as the big pile of writing projects waiting for me on my desk, I took Jayda to the doctor at 9 a.m. He couldn’t find anything wrong with her—even swabbed her negatively for strep throat when I told him it was rampant at Jayda’s day care—and surmised that it must have been a virus, or even a minor strain of the flu that had only lasted for a few hours because Jayda had been immunized. Jayda’s exam was over by 9:30, so I had to ask: “Can I send her to school today?” The doctor looked at me sternly and said, “That’s not a medical question—it’s a social question. She IS fine…but she obviously caught whatever she had last night from someone at school. Do you really want someone else to catch it from her?” And so, I took Jayda home with me—a very healthy, incredibly hyper Jayda—with the realization that all the work I’d planned to do that day because I wouldn’t be able to do it on Monday (when Jayda would be home with me for Martin Luther King Day) would have to get done after Jayda’s bedtime. And an already-exhausted mommy would have to spend her entire day entertaining a tireless kid. Sometimes having a conscience sucks.

Last week, we had a play date with a friend whose 2-1/2-year-old son has never been in day care; my friend’s mom watches her little boy while she and her husband work full-time. However, my friend called me an hour before we were supposed to meet to give me a heads-up that her son had a runny nose. I laughed. Well, of course I also thanked her for her sensitivity (it’s always nice to know I have thoughtful friends), but then I informed her that as long as her child didn’t have a fever or a contagious disease, I had no problem with my child playing with him in a public place (as was our plan). These days I don’t even blink an eye at runny noses, coughs, and colds, as they’ve been a part of our daily lives ever since Jayda started day care at 3-1/2 months.

Jayda has a constant flurry of colds all winter long; if I kept her home from day care every time she had one, half of my tuition would be wasted. And while personally having a cold can make me pretty darn miserable, having one doesn’t seem to slow my kid down much. She won’t nap. She won’t rest. And she certainly won’t go to bed early. If anything, she just requires even more attention from me than ever, and, if I dare ask how she’s feeling, she only plays on my sympathies (Jayda: “Mommy, I sick! I need a special treat to feel better.” Me: “Oh, poor baby. What kind of special treat, honey?” Jayda: “M&Ms, Mommy. Lots of them.”) So while on occasion I wonder, “Should I keep Jayda home today?” when she seems especially congested, I generally wind up sending her to day care in the end, because I figure she’ll be happier there…and, let’s face it, so will I.

But is that fair? Is it the right thing to do? I can’t say for sure. But it is my reality. It’s tough keeping a kid home from school when you have other obligations—no matter what your circumstances are. So I’ve given myself some slack in regards to minor sniffles and colds. But fevers and flus and infectious diseases? Never. The kid who gave Jayda her mysterious fever should never have been at day care—and the parent who sent the child there should be ashamed (if the child was exhibiting symptoms, that is). I bitched and moaned for days about staying home with Jayda on Friday, and it took me three weekend nights to finish the work I’d hoped to do on her sick day, but I know I did the right thing—even if Jayda never seemed the slightest bit sick. And Jayda certainly didn’t mind having an extra day at home with her Mommy…or an extra helping of “feel better” M&Ms.

Putting Things in Perspective -- by Jamie

Last weekend, the mother of one of Jayda’s day care friends invited us to join them in attending “Disney on Ice.” Jayda was thrilled when I explained to her that “Mickey Mouse and all the Princesses would be ice skating, and she and her friend could sit together and watch them.” Mickey and Minnie introduced the show, and Jayda clapped happily from my lap. But as the characters from “Aladdin” came out for the first act, and a procession of genies skated out across the ice, kicking like Rockettes, Jayda quickly turned around and buried her face into my neck. I suddenly realized that a performance that had appeared magical and impressive to me, seemed ominous and frightening to my little girl.

As the show continued, though Jayda did enjoy it (and woke up the next morning demanding, “I want to go to Disney again!”), she also dragged me out to the lobby for walks at inopportune moments, changed her position (from my lap to her own chair back to my lap) at least a dozen times, constantly fished for snacks from my pocketbook, and often tried to engage me in conversations (“Mommy! Talk about our day!”). While Jayda’s friend, who is several months older than Jayda, sat mesmerized in her seat for the entire show (even through the intermission!), Jayda lacked the focus—just as she doesn’t have the patience to sit through a DVD at home (or even more than 5 or 10 minutes of a TV show, for that matter)—without constantly getting up to play.

Jayda’s in nursery school, and her development over the last six months has been astounding. She goes to the bathroom on her own now—even shuts the door in my face, insisting on her privacy. She also grabs her bedtime books from me and takes a turn “reading” to me almost every night. And when I remind her that something is “for grownups,” she counters, “I a big girl now! I can do it/use it!” So, sometimes I forget that Jayda isn’t even three years old yet. Often she forgets it, too. But our experience at “Disney on Ice” was a much-needed reminder for both of us that Jayda’s still a toddler in many ways: She gets scared of monster-like genies no matter how graceful they are, and she can’t sit still for a show—even if it is vastly entertaining. And that’s just fine. I don’t need to rush her to grow up any faster.

Sometimes we expect too much from people—or even from ourselves. And I think we’ve all been victims of not seeing clearly what’s in front of us. The other day, I met an old friend for lunch in the city. First and foremost, he’s an old friend. But he’s also my former personal trainer. Before I had Jayda, I trained with this friend three times a week for many, many years. And while I still work out and eat healthfully now, I certainly don’t have the physique I’d attained while training with Jim. As he sat across the table from me, Jim told me I looked great, and I scowled at him. While I don’t expect to have the 8% body fat I used to, I would like to be 10 pounds lighter, and I certainly don’t feel like I look fabulous these days. But after our lunch, Jim emailed me that I really DO look great…”much better than I believe.” Reading his email made me smile. And I realized it’s all about keeping things in perspective. Every woman—and every mother—needs to keep things in perspective: Her daughter’s true age. The way she looks. Even the kind of mother she is. And sometimes all we need to do is take a step back and look at things from a different angle (or from another person’s viewpoint) and we’ll better see the truth. It’s a good thing to do once in awhile, and I think we all need to remind ourselves of that.

Back to School -- by Jamie

This was a big week in the education-department for the Levines: Jayda started nursery school, and I registered for some important classes of my own. Both were big milestones for each of us, though Jayda’s transition was far easier than I expect my return to college will be.

Jayda has been at the same day care center since she was 3-1/2 months old. She’s always been ahead of the learning curve, and has been promoted into each of her classes at an earlier age than most of the other kids. Thus, in September, when many of Jayda’s friends (who are slightly older than Jayda) were moved up to the nursery school program, I expected Jayda would be following them. But due to classroom overcrowding and some annoying day care bureaucracy, she lagged behind for awhile. Ultimately, my daughter successfully potty trained, vastly improved her vocabulary, spent much of her time helping the younger kids in her toddler room, and, in sum, displayed what I felt was extreme readiness for nursery school. Fortunately, by the holidays, my relentless hounding of the school’s director finally reaped success, and to my relief, Jayda became the only child allowed to transition to nursery school in January.

Jayda’s first day in nursery school was drama-free for both of us. She took to the ground running—literally—and leapt out of my arms, shouting, “Mommy—LEAVE!” as she ran to join her old friends, who were playing happily in her new classroom. When I came to pick Jayda up in the afternoon, her new teacher informed me that Jayda had had a terrific day, and it had seemed “like Jayda had been in nursery school forever.” As I’d suspected, Jayda’s move into nursery school had been long overdue, and she’d been more than ready to get started there.

I, on the other hand, am likely to have more trouble adjusting to my new classes. I received a B.A. in Communication from the University of Michigan in 1991, and never imagined I’d be going back to college at almost-40-years-old. For more than 15 years, I worked in children’s publishing—as a writer, a school book club editor, a marketer, and a buyer—and have always loved my career. But sadly, as the result of corporate downsizing, I found my job eliminated a year ago. Freelance writing and consulting have kept me financially afloat, but I’m no longer fulfilled by my daily work, nor do I have the job stability I need as a single mother. After much soul-searching, I’ve decided to pursue grad school, specifically for Speech Pathology—a career that would profit from my occupational experiences and strengths, and provide the job-flexibility and salary I need to raise my daughter.

However, I can’t just take the GREs, apply to grad school, and get started on a second career. First, I must fulfill several Speech Pathology-related undergraduate prerequisites. And before I could even register for those classes, I had to apply to (and be admitted to) a special university program. Fortunately, I was accepted to the program at Queens College, and this past week, I met with an advisor to help me select my classes. At this late date (classes start at the end of January), most of the classes I needed were closed, and I was only able to get into two. But that’s a start. And what with commuting to Queens from Long Island twice a week, continuing my freelance work (I still need to bring in as much money as possible), and taking care of my daughter, I guess that’s enough to get my feet wet.

Because I’m a “planner,” it has been my natural inclination to map out my “school plan”—to consider all the work I’ll be doing for my classes, as well as the time I’ll need to spend schlepping back and forth to the campus. But not everything involved with going back to school at my age is so easy to predict. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to listen to a lecture, take copious notes, or study for a test. When it comes to being a student, I’m out of practice—as well as out-of-the-loop in regards to modern-day college practices. Even applying to school this time was a novel experience for me: When I applied to Michigan, I typed out my application and essays on an electric typewriter—and mailed a check to the school. This time, I applied online and simply entered my credit card number. A lot has changed in two decades.

This week, while I waited for my appointment with my advisor at Queens College, I sat in a waiting room with other prospective students, who, technically, were young enough to be my children. And that’s going to be an interesting experience, too. Things may be different in grad school, but right now, while I’m taking my undergraduate classes, I’ll be sharing lecture halls and assignments with young men and women who are literally half my age. And that will definitely be an adjustment—for me and for them, I’m sure. I’m fairly certain none of them will be juggling their studies with mother- or fatherhood, and I’ll be a novelty.

The other day, I told Jayda I was going back to school, and she got very excited about it. She wondered, “Is it a big school?”—like the elementary school we pass on the way to her day care center—and asked, “Will you be going on a school bus?” which is her own personal fantasy. And, of course, she asked if she could “come, too.” There is actually a nice playground outside the Speech Pathology department office building, and I may bring her there to check it out in the spring. While my time at school certainly won’t be full of fun and games like Jayda’s nursery school adventures, hopefully it will still be a positive experience. And I may as well show Jayda some of the fun that can be involved, since nothing—including going back to school—is a solo venture for me anymore.


Back in September, Jayda and I appeared on a local cable TV show in a segment about SMCs. If you’d like to check it out, here are the YouTube links:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehgwxZfhNL8 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYEavdyFDUM http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJ9aaxXA_TA

Losing Sleep over Losing Sleep -- by Jamie

I hate bedtime. Not my bedtime—I actually long for the moment I’m able to crawl under the covers and go to sleep. But Jayda’s bedtime is a completely different story.

From the moment she was born, Jayda was a horrible sleeper. Even when she was just a tiny infant, everyone joked that this kid simply didn’t want to miss anything. She was alert and happy most of the time—and turned into a screaming lunatic when anyone tried to put her down for a nap. It’s a lucky thing she was so cute and good-natured, or I don’t know how her daycare teacher would have tolerated her, because getting Jayda to nap was probably the toughest part of her teacher’s job. Other moms I knew could count on 2-3 hour breaks throughout the day during which they could get chores done—or even take a nap, themselves—while their babies were sleeping; I never had that luxury. I was lucky if Jayda napped for an hour twice a day. And nights were even worse: Jayda was up every few hours, and thus, so was I. It took until Jayda was 18 months old before she finally started sleeping through the night (“the night” being from 8 p.m. until 5 a.m., which to me, at that point, was utter bliss). Even now, she rarely sleeps past 5:30 a.m., and is my daily alarm clock. But at least she doesn’t disturb me in the middle of the night anymore.

However, just as when she was a baby, Jayda still won’t go to sleep on her own. From the start, my child needed to be held, rocked, carried around the room, and coaxed to sleep. She never fell asleep in her car seat, nor in her swing, and certainly not just by laying down in her crib. My father was the master of getting baby Jayda to konk out—he’d hold her close to his chest and sing to her and walk around the house until she succumbed to his “charms.” Then he’d let her take her entire nap on his chest, because he wouldn’t dare risk putting her down—and having her wake up. We used to call him “Mr. Mattress.” As Jayda got older, carrying and rocking her to sleep was replaced by rubbing her back while she laid in her crib…but even that required tons of time and patience, as Jayda would fight sleep for as long as possible.

As it’s always been, Jayda’s bedtime is full of rituals. Every night, Jayda changes into her pajamas, uses the potty, and crawls into bed with me with a pile of books. After our book-reading, we turn out the lights and cuddle and, as Jayda requests, “talk days.” I tell her about my day and she tells me about hers, and then I tell her what we have planned for the next day. After that, I rub her back until she goes to sleep. However, lately, that can take forever because my child has become a master procrastinator.

First, she’ll ask for a drink of water (which I keep next to the bed), then she’ll toss and turn and start to ask questions that she already knows the answers to, like “Where’s Grandma?” or ridiculous ones like “What’s Rocco (her friend at school) doing?” If I ignore her, she’ll keep repeating her questions until I answer. And when I tell her to stop talking, she turns all mushy on me and asks for a “big hug,” which, of course I can’t ignore, and sometimes showers me with kisses. Then comes the “Mommy—I have to use the potty!” request. As a very recently potty-trained child, she has me wrapped around her finger because she knows I won’t refuse her a trip to the bathroom. This request only comes once though, since, after I take her to the bathroom, I warn her that we’re not coming back, so she “better make use of her time there!”

Some nights, Jayda adds new surprises to her repertoire. The other evening, she tossed and turned in bed insisting that her back hurt and she needed an ice pack—clearly imitating her grandmother. Once, she insisted she needed dental floss because her “teeth hurt.” She’s also been known to change her mind about what doll she wants to sleep with (wanting the one that is downstairs, of course), claim that her feet are cold and she needs special socks, or suddenly decide that she urgently needs an application of “tushie medicine” (ie: Desitin).

Of course I don’t give in to every demand Jayda makes, and I don’t calmly lie next to her for hours. But leaving her to fall asleep alone isn’t a solution either. Because if I do, Jayda screams and cries for awhile, and then she just calmly sits in bed and waits for me to come back. She’ll wait for hours, too. There have been nights when I’ve gone out for drinks with friends, and have come home to find that Jayda has waited up for me. My mom will put her to bed, and Jayda will lie there calmly…but she won’t go to sleep until she knows I’m home with her. If I’m out very late, eventually exhaustion takes her out…but it could take hours…and I don’t want my kid staying up and losing her much-needed sleep simply because I don’t have the patience to sit with her for a bit longer. So, each night, I return to cajole her to sleep.

As an overtired mommy who LOVES her bed, I’ll never understand why Jayda doesn’t welcome sleep as I do. Even when she’s totally exhausted and rubbing her eyes, and it’s clear to both of us that she needs to pass out, she won’t. She’ll fight me with her very last bit of energy—and she’ll fight hard. My willful child has conquered her naps, of course, and no longer takes them. Oh, the irony: Jayda’s needing (or at least succumbing to) less sleep than ever…and I need more. People tell me this will change…but I fear it won’t until she’s a teenager. I hope I’m proven wrong.

Mixed Blessings (ie: Be Careful What You Wish For!) -- by Jamie

I think every mother wishes for the day when she can stop buying diapers; I certainly did. And I’m so relieved that after months of potty training, Jayda now wears underwear all the time. Thus, the other day, when I picked Jayda up from daycare, knowing we weren’t heading directly home, I did what I always do these days, and asked Jayda if she needed to use the bathroom before we left. She insisted that she did not, so, we took off on our thirty-minute drive to our play date. When we were half-way there, Jayda mumbled that she was going to use the potty at her friend’s house; however, we weren’t going to her friend’s house, and instead, her friend’s mom and I had planned to meet on a main street of their town to look at the Christmas decorations before dinner. When I explained this to Jayda, she replied, “Uh oh. Whose potty I use? I need to go.” Oy. I frantically looked for a place at which to stop along the road, found a diner, and raced Jayda out of the car and through the snow-filled parking lot. Once inside, Jayda took her time, but eventually did her business. In the midst of my irritation over how late we were becoming for our play date, not to mention the discomfort I was feeling from my now snow-covered shoes, I forced myself to plaster on a big smile, and praised Jayda for letting me know that she’d had to go—and for holding it in until she’d gotten to a bathroom like a “big girl.” She had, indeed, exhibited marvelous behavior for a 2-1/2 year old, but, at the time, it didn’t seem like such a wonderful thing to me and my freezing cold toes.

It reminded me of the time before Jayda turned two, when most of her spoken words were garbled and difficult to understand. My mom used to exclaim, “I can’t wait until Jayda can REALLY talk!” And now? My daughter never shuts up. While it has been amazing to witness her remarkable speech development, hearing Jayda speak 24/7 isn’t a complete joy. Like all curious toddlers, my daughter loves asking, “Why?” She has questions about everything and everyone, and they’re often quite random. Sometimes she’ll ask me what someone whom she hasn’t seen for months is doing right at that moment, or what kind of bed one of her friends sleeps in, when it’s the middle of the day. She wants to know everyone’s name—from the friend whom I’m on my cell phone with to the cashier at the supermarket whom I exchange five words with, and, simply, loves to chatter. Lately, Jayda loves talking about her day with me—what we’ve done already, what we’re going to do, and what our plans are for the next day—over and over and over again. She’ll often ask me to “talk our day” when I have a hundred other things to do—or talk about—at that moment, and gets very upset when I refuse to respond in detail. Another habit Jayda has developed, is repeating everything she hears: She often exclaims “Oh my gawd!” and “Oy!” just like her mother, and I must be very careful about what I say.

Jayda’s a smart little girl, and she’s quite clever with her choice of words. She knows the power of the word “please,” and, at times when I’ve refused her a second cookie or another Barney DVD, she sweetly pleads, “Please!” which is oh-so-difficult to refuse. Similarly, when I’m angry with Jayda about something, and am in the middle of reprimanding her, she’s been known to interrupt me with “I wuv you mommy! I wuv you a bushel and a kleck and a hug around the neck,” which certainly distracts me from my anger. So, while I do appreciate the fact that Jayda is such a good communicator now, it isn’t always a positive experience for me.

Another important characteristic that I’ve always wished for in my child is independence. While I’ll always cherish having a kid who adores me, and who loves being around me, I think most moms, including myself, do not relish the thought of a clingy child. Fortunately, Jayda, who still exhibits an enormous amount of affection for me, has truly started to become her own little person—one who thinks for herself, and, often even takes care of herself. But even that has its downsides, because lately, every thing that needs to be done for Jayda is something that she insists, “I do by myself.” This includes picking out her outfits (which, to my mortification, often don’t match), dressing and undressing herself (even when it means struggling with a zipper for fifteen minutes), and attempting to tie her own shoes (ie: twirling her laces around and around, sometimes forming knots). I can’t even hand Jayda a cookie these days without her throwing a fit about wanting to pick her OWN cookie out of the box. Jayda’s a willful child, and while that is a wonderful quality for her to possess in the long-run, in the short-term it leads to a lot of frustration for both of us. And, for me, a person who thrives on always being on time, it has meant trying to acquire a whole lot of patience when it suddenly takes us twice as long as usual to accomplish a task—and get out the door.

For every milestone Jayda reaches, I am, of course, thankful, and am more than willing to cheer and praise my child. Her development amazes me, and I marvel at what a wonderful “big girl” she’s becoming. Yet I also realize that with every achievement comes new challenges (often just for me!). Growing up isn’t easy—for either of us—but I’m learning to take the bad with the good. My child is thriving, and that’s what matters most.

Happy Christmakkah! by Jamie

As a Jew, I’ve always embraced the traditions of Judaism, but not necessarily its religious aspects. For instance, I don’t go to temple, was never Bat Mizvahed, and must admit that most of my Yom Kippur fasts have been solely weight loss-driven. However, I do know (and often use) a few dozen Yiddish words, wish just as many friends a “sweet” New Year around Rosh Hashanah as I do on January 1st, and truly “kvelled” over giving my daughter a Hebrew name at a baby-naming ceremony. I may not “practice” my religion all the time, but I certainly appreciate it—the holidays, stories, and most of all, the familial bonds (and, well, the food, too!). And as the mom of a toddler, I really look forward to starting—and continuing—traditions with my daughter for all of the Jewish holidays.

That said, hooray for Hanukkah! This is the first year that Jayda, at 2-1/2, can really join in—and begin to understand—our holiday celebrations. I have a special Crayola crayon-shaped menorah to light with her, eight presents to give to her on each of the eight nights, and a family Hanukkah dinner planned, with home-made latkes headlining the meal. I’m looking forward to it all. But I’m not looking forward to competing with Christmas.

I’m no Scrooge, and I certainly understand the appeal of Christmas; I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit to that. My mother’s mother was Irish-Protestant, until she gave up her religion for my Jewish grandfather. However, she never stopped celebrating Christmas, and my own mother carried that tradition into our home. When I was growing up, we celebrated Hanukkah, but we also had a Christmas tree, left cookies for Santa on a table near the chimney, and woke up on Christmas morning to a pile of gifts. It made sense because it was a part of my mother’s upbringing, but for me, as a single Jewish mother, it doesn’t make sense anymore. There’s no reason for me to have a Christmas tree in my home, or even teach my child to believe in Santa Claus. But I fear it’s going to take a heck of a lot of work to get Jayda to understand that Hanukkah is “just as much fun” as Christmas.

A few weeks ago, Jayda pointed to a picture of Santa Claus and asked me, “Who’s that?” Moments later, she gestured to a picture of a Christmas tree and said, “What a pretty tree!” I explained to her as best I could who Santa Claus is, and why that tree was covered with decorations, and she soon lost interest. But I know that was just the beginning.

Let’s face it: We live in a Christmas-focused world. Every street in our neighborhood is filled with Christmas lights, huge fusses are made over Christmas tree lighting ceremonies, and our stores are swarming with Christmas-themed decorations, gifts, toys, and candy. True, there are Hanukkah books that I can read to Jayda, and occasionally I’m able to find a TV special airing which focuses on our holiday. This past week, I was especially thrilled to discover that at Jayda’s daycare, they had a Hanukkah unit: All week long, Jayda’s class read stories about the holiday, made crafts, and even enjoyed Hanukkah treats. But it still doesn’t compare to the Christmas craziness that will be saturating the same daycare—and everywhere else—in upcoming weeks.

Because my childhood included Christmas celebrations and I “had the best of both worlds,” I never really noticed the lack of Hanukkah hoopla around us, but I’m pretty certain my own child will. Perhaps I’m worrying needlessly, but I hate to think Jayda will feel like she’s missing out on something just because we’re Jewish. I know the best I can do is embrace our Jewish traditions, as I do, and pass my enthusiasm for them along to Jayda. Hopefully then she’ll appreciate who we are—and what our holiday means. This Hanukkah, I know Jayda will be doing plenty of celebrating, enjoying her family, and receiving lots of great gifts, and that’s a tradition no one should find reason to complain about.

Learning from a Toddler--and Losing Inhibitions -- by Jamie

While I’ve always been a rather social person—and a very talkative one at that—I’ve never been overly-confrontational. Or even a very outspoken person when I’m in public, or interacting with strangers. And I certainly possess my share of inhibitions. But having a child has brought countless changes to my life, including giving me the guts to say or do many things I wouldn’t have done before I had Jayda.

I adore the fact that my 2-1/2-year-old daughter is completely uninhibited. She loves to take off her clothes in the house and, as she calls it, “be a naked baby.” She struts around with her belly sticking out, and could care less about who’s watching her. As a woman who’s suffered through years of disordered eating in the past, I find it lovely to see someone who has absolutely no body image issues. Jayda does happen to be a beautiful child, but it’s liberating to know that fat or thin, pretty or not, Jayda gives no thought to what she looks like, and certainly doesn’t stress over what she eats. She’s comfortable in her own skin. We should all be so lucky.

Best of all, Jayda loves to belt out the words to songs she knows (even when those words are all garbled and wrong)—whether we’re alone or in public. Personally, even with a couple of martinis in my bloodstream, I’ve never had the guts to sing karaoke, and I marvel at my daughter’s chutzpa. She dances with abandon, says whatever is on her mind, and doesn’t think twice about questioning anything and everything (and anyone and everyone!). True, she’s a toddler and knows no better. But I find her actions quite enviable.

Fortunately, being a mom to Jayda has changed my personality, too. Because I discovered it’s important to talk to your children to foster their speech development, even when Jayda was only an infant, I chatted constantly with her in public. When Jayda was not yet talking, I uttered endless monologues to her, and now, I engage her in complex conversations out loud—sometimes quite loudly—in public places like the supermarket, the doctor’s waiting room, and even the library. And when Jayda asks me to join her in singing a song, I oblige. I’ve also been known to spin around in circles with her—or do a jig with her in the middle of a crowd (and I’m someone who has always had two left feet). Being with a child can definitely bring out the child in you—as well as a child’s lack of inhibitions.

Before I became a mom, there were many times when I felt intimidated by authority figures and didn’t speak up about things that bothered me…or times when I was a bit shy about asking for something I needed. That’s not true anymore—especially when it comes to Jayda. When I need an emergency appointment at the pediatrician’s office, attention given to a problem Jayda’s having at daycare, or am bothered by a myriad of other things whose resolutions are important to my child’s well-being, I’ve developed a very big mouth. I’ll pursue important people, confront troublemakers, and even insist on changes being made where they’ve never been made before, if doing so will improve my daughter’s life. And I’ll do so with absolutely no hesitation. Just as a momma bear is protective of her little cub, so am I: I’ll growl at anyone who puts my child in harm’s way. It’s a gift Jayda’s given me…and I’m doing my best to use it as much as I can.

Surprising Discoveries -- by Jamie

A few days ago, my daughter, Jayda, turned 2-1/2, and, just as she did from the start, my willful child continues to keep me on my toes, and surprise me.

On the morning of May 18, 2007, after experiencing a rather easy pregnancy, I found myself at my OB/GYN’s office, because I was a few days past my due date. At the end of the exam, my doctor instructed me to go to the hospital at 6 p.m. that night so he could induce me; he said it was unwise for me to wait any longer, and that it was time for Jayda to come into the world. But, at brunch with my parents just a few hours later, I started to feel cramps. The cramps persisted, and then worsened on the ride home, and later that afternoon, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I agreed to go to the hospital early. There, I discovered I was, indeed, in labor—and there would be no need for an inducement.

After settling into the hospital, and receiving a much-needed epidural, I assumed I could relax for awhile. But shortly after I started to get comfortable, everything went awry. My fetal monitor went off, the attending nurse covered me with an oxygen mask, and before I knew it, my hospital room had turned into an episode of ”ER”—with doctors frantically rushing in and wheeling me out to an OR. I found out later—after Jayda was quickly brought into this world by an emergency C-section—that my monitor had indicated that my daughter had gone into distress, and my swift doctors had jumped into action and saved her. So, what started as a possible induction and continued as a “normal” labor, was resolved with a C-section; even at birth, Jayda was full of surprises.

The morning of Jayda’s 2-1/2 birthday began with my daughter and me cuddling in my bed. As usual, Jayda prodded me to “talk about our day,” and I gave her a preview of her upcoming school day, as well as our afterschool activities, which involved a play date. When I was finished, she gave me a hug and declared, “Mommy, you my best friend!” It was one of those unexpected gems that often comes out of Jayda’s mouth these days—a surprising reminder of what a sweet, articulate little person my daughter is becoming.

When we got out of bed that morning, Jayda insisted on wearing underpants under her leggings. We’d been potty training for awhile, but Jayda usually ran around the house in a pair of pull-ups, or completely nude from the waist down, most mornings before we left for daycare. I relented though, helped her put on her princess undies, and took her with me on a ride to Dunkin Donuts for coffee. Then, we came home for a few hours, and Jayda remained dry the entire time. She even asked to use the potty twice, successfully, before leaving for daycare. But as I went to change her into a pair of pull ups before we left the house, she threw a fit, and refused to take off her underpants. “I a big girl now,” she declared, and, as I looked at the calendar and noticed what day it was, I couldn’t help but agree. Thus, my willful child won this battle, and sported her princess undies at daycare for the very first time.

Later that day, Jayda surprised me again, when I picked her up from daycare and found her in unsoiled clothes, still wearing her treasured underpants. She even requested that she wear her underpants to school the next day, too. My little girl really is a “big girl” now. And while I’m not surprised that Jayda is growing up, I AM surprised by how quickly it’s happening, and how determined my daughter has already become to be “her own little person.” Fortunately, it’s a person who constantly amazes me with her humor, intelligence, and sensitivity—and a person whom I love more and more each day. And while I’m not so sure she’ll think of me as her best friend forever, maybe she’ll surprise me. I sure hope so.

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

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

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

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

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

Playground Pick Up -- by Jamie

It’s a shame I can’t bring my daughter with me to a singles bar—she’s really great at breaking the ice with everyone around us. Sometimes, she’ll just stare at strangers with her big, blue eyes, and get their attention—as well as welcoming smiles. Other times, our conversation will attract someone’s interest. Jayda’s becoming a real chatterbox—and an inquisitive one, at that—and the comments and questions she peppers me with often amuse people who are within hearing range. She’s been obsessed lately with the concept of “buying things,” and actually asked me very loudly the other day, “Mommy, who bought my tushie?” That certainly got a reaction out of passersby! Jayda’s also, simply, a very attractive child, who constantly garners compliments from strangers about her beautiful curls and “Shirley Temple” look. Regardless, when we’re out and about, she always gets attention. And I, in turn, get some, too. Especially at the playground.

During the week, weather permitting, I pick Jayda up from her daycare, and we head out to a nearby elementary school’s playground; it’s close to our house and very age-appropriate. Over time, Jayda has “collected” a group of friends and admirers who frequent the playground, too—and who help keep both of us entertained. When the school’s after-hours program emerges on the playground in the late afternoon, there are two teacher’s aides whom Jayda approaches enthusiastically: One is a middle-aged woman who always hugs Jayda and chats with her about her day, and another is a woman in her late-20s who gives Jayda animal crackers and whom my daughter follows around like a puppy. Many of the kids in this program know Jayda, too, and wave and smile at her in welcome.

There are also a few nannies who frequent the playground with their charges. Jayda knows each of them by name—and often gets treats from them all. Then, there are the newcomers: Mothers whom we’ve never seen before, but who encourage their children to play with Jayda, and who chat with me while our kids swing next to each other, and run around. I enjoy the camaraderie and grown up conversations, and time passes quickly for me, while Jayda plays happily.

Best of all, there are the daddies…but since most “eligible” men are working in the late afternoon, they are few and far between. Once in awhile, however, Jayda will find a man to bat her eyelashes at, and I will have a conversation with him as a result. It would be nice if Jayda would learn to look at men’s ring fingers first, though, since she rarely “introduces” me to a single man!

Lately, I’ve found myself in a completely new situation—spending time with an unattractive, but incredibly friendly (in a non-flirtatious way) married man, whose adorable, incredibly-well-mannered son has befriended Jayda. They look for us every afternoon—sometimes bringing snacks or toys to share with Jayda. I truly adore the boy—but don’t have much to say to his father; most of the time, we just share anecdotes about our kids. However, he just invited us to play at his house one day this week, and I accepted his invitation because Jayda reacted so enthusiastically to it. I trust the guy…and know Jayda will have an amazing time playing in his home. I’m just not all that eager to socialize with him. And isn’t that what play dates are for—fun for Jayda, and good conversation and company for me?! Well, I’ve been through plenty of bad dates in the past, and I’ve always made it through unscathed. I’ve also made plenty of sacrifices for my daughter, before. So, once again, I’ll do what’s good for Jayda—make our plans, prepare for the worst, and hope that I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Stay tuned…

Healthy Habits -- and a Happy Kid -- by Jamie

I was not a very active kid. I preferred cookies to cartwheels, and reading to running. And it showed: I was a rather chubby child, who struggled with a weight problem throughout much of my youth. It wasn’t until my mid-20s that I truly discovered the joys of exercise; I joined a boxing gym, and, as I strived to succeed in the sport, found my endorphins flowing, and my energy increasing. After just a few weeks of boxing, I set off on a quest to become stronger and faster and added running and weight training to my routine. Ultimately, my body became leaner, my heart grew healthier, and I became a gym-rat.

I’m known at my current gym as “the woman who worked out until the day she gave birth”—and it’s true: I exercised about 6 times a week throughout my pregnancy, and would have been at the gym on the day I went into labor, but I had an early OB/GYN appointment that day that deterred me; I gave birth that evening.

Soon after my C-section, I was out walking again, with Jayda strapped to my body in a Baby Bjorn, and I returned to the gym less than a month later. Exercise and eating healthfully are important to me…and I want them to be important to my child. But, as I know from my own experiences, you can’t force exercise on a kid if you want it to become a habit for her; instead, she has to enjoy it.

Like her mom, Jayda has a passion for sweet things. For a long time, I could get away with giving her fresh fruit, Greek yogurt with honey, or homemade zucchini-carrot bread as a treat. But of course, as Jayda grew, her grandparents, daycare friends, and our shopping forays introduced her to cupcakes, ice cream, candy, and other not-so-healthy snacks. I still try to limit Jayda’s treats, and make healthy substitutions whenever I can. (For example, one of Jayda’s favorite places is the “ice cream store” where, unbeknownst to her, we both eat low fat frozen yogurt.) However, since I don’t want to create an eating-disordered daughter and deny her all the foods her contemporaries are eating, I’ve been simply focusing on getting Jayda to exercise more, instead.

When Jayda was about 18 months old, I signed her up for a gymnastics class—and a year later, we’re still attending once a week. She loves it at The Little Gym, and 45 minutes of climbing, swinging, and running around are never enough for her. Weather-permitting, I take her to the playground after daycare as often as I can, and while sometimes she just wants to swing, and sit and watch the other kids play, other days, Jayda is a real little monkey, climbing the jungle gym and racing around in circles. Regardless, the playground is a place she looks forward to going to, and that’s what’s important.

Because my little girl has been begging me to go to “dance school” for months now, I’ve signed her up for a class in January, and she can’t stop talking about it. If dancing brings her as much joy as I think it will, she’ll be twirling around incessantly once class begins. Add to that the yoga class that Jayda’s daycare starting offering a few weeks ago (and which Jayda loves—and constantly practices at home), and it looks like my daughter is turning into a pretty active child. More importantly, she’s enjoying her activities every step of the way.

Recently, I began taking Jayda to my gym with me on the weekends; it has a free daycare center and she adores the woman who watches her there. As soon as she wakes up on Saturday mornings, Jayda asks me, “When is mommy going to exercise?” and “Can I come, too?!” Having a toddler who begs to go to the gym must mean I’m doing something right!

Like Mother, Like Daughter? by Jamie

My daughter, Jayda, will turn three in May, and she’s been in the same daycare center since she was 3-1/2 months old. It’s a small daycare—a warm, nurturing environment where everyone knows Jayda, and she loves it there. Technically, she can stay there until she enters kindergarten, and many of her classmates will do just that. But, lately, I’ve been starting to think she needs to go somewhere new in September, where she’ll be challenged more.

My birthday is in February, and my mother started me in nursery school early, because I appeared to be very intelligent. Then, because I missed the cut-off date for public kindergarten, and my mom didn’t want to keep me in nursery school for an extra year, she put me in private kindergarten, followed by private first grade. Finally, the public school system accepted me as a 6-year-old second grader. Yes, my mother pushed me ahead—and I thrived because of it. I was always reading levels ahead of my classmates, was an overachiever throughout middle school and high school, and graduated with honors from the University of Michigan. I’m smart. And my daughter is smart, too. Along with my blonde hair, blue eyes, and passion for candy, it seems she’s inherited a bit of my intelligence.

I recently started scouting out new nursery schools for Jayda, and have been quite impressed by what I’ve seen. One place has a shiny new computer center, a large indoor padded playroom, and a small petting zoo. Another is smaller, and more worn-down, but it also has a small computer room, weekly music classes, and even teaches Spanish to 4-year-olds. I’m thrilled there are great options for us—and both places actually bus the children to school if you don’t require extended hours. These days, whenever Jayda sees a school bus drive by, she lights up, and begs to ride on it, so I know she’d be thrilled to take a bus to school. Or would she? When the reality hits, will she be scared to death to climb aboard?

When I consider the tuitions, I lean towards the place with the shiny new computer center. It’s incredibly large and modern, with so many fabulous amenities, and it’s almost the same price as the smaller, older place. But maybe the smaller school will be warmer and more appealing to Jayda…and the bigger place will seem overwhelming? I’m really not sure. I want to do what’s best for my child…and I simply want her to thrive. But I also want her to be comfortable at her new school. It’s a tough call…especially when I know Jayda’s still very happy at her present daycare center…and probably would continue to be so for awhile.

I guess I can liken this scenario to my workouts at the gym. I’m comfortable doing the same old workout every day: I know what to do, I’m good at it, and I feel pretty happy afterwards. But when I force myself out of my comfort zone and challenge myself to do completely different exercises, ultimately, I’m always thrilled with the results. No matter which school I choose for Jayda, big or small, I’m going to be pushing her out of her comfort zone: A new place, new people, and new things to learn will probably seem scary at first. But change is good—especially for a smart little girl who thrives when challenged. And now it’s up to me to make that change for her. I just wish it was easier!

What Me Weary? by Jamie

People who know me are used to my complaints about Jayda waking up at 5 a.m. every day. But the fact is, pre-Jayda—before she was even a glimmer of an idea in my head—I awoke willingly before 5 every morning to go to the gym. I religiously devoted at least 10 hours a week to working out—hard—and I also worked full-time, did some additional freelance work, ate ridiculously “clean” (keeping myself at less than 10% body fat year-round), and still managed to go out on dates several times a week. I also suffered from insomnia, and rarely got more than 5-6 hours of sleep a night.

Fast-forward to my present-life. I still get to the gym 5-6 times a week, still eat very healthfully 90% of the time (though I allow myself to consume more food these days, and thus, carry a more reasonable amount of body fat), I rarely drink (and when I do, it’s just a well-savored glass of wine), and I currently work from home. However, lately, several times a week when I put Jayda to bed between 7:30 and 8 p.m., and I lay down beside her to rub her back, I wind up passing out with her (and am shocked when I look at the clock and discover it’s after midnight and I have to force myself up to go brush my teeth)! I also find myself looking forward to bedtime…and have no problem sleeping through the night—and for as long as Jayda will allow me. I even crave naps on the weekends—though Jayda never lets me take them. In short, now that I’m a mom, I’m tired!

I passed a recent physical with flying colors. And more often than not, people tell me I don’t look my age. So why am I so exhausted? I have a friend who is constantly chasing her bolting toddler through stores and restaurants; I rarely have that problem since Jayda generally doesn’t race away from me, and she never wanders far. Jayda’s not an overly-active kid—just a “normal” one. She’s also a fairly even-tempered child. She certainly has her share of tantrums, but I’ve met plenty of kids who are much harder to manage. And while Jayda is a ceaselessly curious child—always asking me questions and probing me to produce creative answers—that shouldn’t physically exhaust me…or should it?

Maybe it just comes down to one thing: Taking care of someone else requires a whole lot more energy than simply taking care of yourself. And while I’ve always had stress in my life (who doesn’t?), and I’ve always found ways to manage it, knowing that you’re solely responsible for the one person whom you love more than anyone and anything in the world is a stress like no other. And it’s the kind of stress that never goes away. I guess I just need to accept that…and get as much rest as I can. And while I do still plan to be 40 and fabulous this February, maybe I’ll just have to make sure I do it before 8 p.m.

Ensuring That I'm Insured -- by Jamie

Almost immediately after my daughter was born, I made an appointment with a lawyer to draw up a will and legally name a guardian for Jayda, as assurance that she would be taken care of, upon my untimely death. I also rushed out to meet with a life insurance agent to make certain Jayda’s potential guardian would have plenty of money with which to take care of her. Then, I breathed a sigh of relief: I had done my duty as a responsible single mom.

Fast-forward to January 2009, when my long-time job as a children’s book buyer for a large retailer was unexpectedly eliminated. Fortunately, along with a nice severance package, my former employers also agreed to pay their usual share of my medical benefits coverage for an entire year. Again, I breathed a sigh of relief…albeit a temporary one. But recently, I realized there was another investment I’d neglected to make. Because I had the foresight to purchase a life insurance policy, if I die, Jayda will be fine, financially. But what if I don’t die…and I simply can’t work anymore? I’m a writer, but what if an accident renders me physically unable to write? Or coach? Or teach? Or do a myriad of things I’m exploring now as future careers. I lost my disability insurance along with my former job, and I now realize how crucial it is for me to have it…not just as insurance for myself, but for Jayda. Crucial…and very, very costly.

Disability insurance premiums get more expensive as you get older. I guess it’s a good thing I’m looking for coverage now, before I turn 40, but, on the other hand, it would have been even better to have secured a policy when I was only 35. And the more money I require to live on every month, should I become disabled, the more expensive the insurance becomes (and the maximum I’ve been approved for is far from generous…living on it would still be pretty difficult). In addition, the fewer loopholes and more extensive the coverage, the more costly it is. And, well, in short, the kind of disability insurance I need is very expensive: A high monthly payment for coverage I hope I’ll never realize a penny from. Ugh. Sometimes being responsible sucks.

As I look at my calendar, I can’t help but realize that January will be here before I know it…and my low-cost-to-me family health insurance coverage will be up. That means I’ll also have to find new medical and dental insurance policies for Jayda and myself. And my bank account will dwindle even more. How does anyone survive as a freelancer with all of these insurance costs? There must be lots of daredevils out there, living without them, and hoping for the best. But, as a single mom looking out for her priceless child, I find them non-negotiable: I need them all.

Yesterday, I got a free upgrade to a new, very high-tech Blackberry. As the salesman was filling out the forms and getting my signature, he asked me: “Do you want insurance?” I declined. It was nice for a change. I’ll take risks with my electronics, no matter how fancy they are—but never with my daughter.

Note: For those of you Long Islanders who missed my live TV appearance on “Something to Talk About,” it will be re-airing this week on the following channels:
Great Neck Cablevision 20 [15 GN/North Shore incorporated villages], Starting Tuesday, Sept. 29 airs for two weeks: Tuesday 8 PM, Friday 10 PM, and Monday 5:30 PM;
Verizon FIOS 37 [All of Nassau County]: Same dates/times as above;
Cablevision 20 [Different from the Cable 20 channel listed above] in the rest of Nassau & W. Suffolk [all of the "Cablevision WOODBURY System"]: Thursday, Sept. 24 at 7:30 PM; Cablevision Digital IO 115 [all of the "Cablevision WOODBURY System"]: Thursday, Oct. 1 at 7:30 PM

Won't You Be My Baby? by Jamie Levine

Although I’m almost 40 years old, I will always be my mother’s “baby.” So, of course, I often look at my 28-month-old toddler, and still think of her as the helpless little infant she once was. But, as Jayda constantly reminds me, herself—when she pees in the potty or swings from monkey bars—“Jayda, big girl now!” In fact, she’s so ”grown up” that when she sees a smaller child in a stroller (a vehicle she, herself, shunned long before the age of two), she calls him or her “a baby”—even if she’s only mere months older. And the smaller the child, the more enamored she becomes, and the more she wants to help take care of the “baby.”

I know all the babies at Jayda’s day care by name—from the infants to the 18-month-olds—because Jayda insists on visiting them all in the morning before she goes to her classroom, and, again, in the afternoon, before we go home. When we visit my friend who has a daughter Jayda’s age, as well as an almost-one-year-old, Jayda generally shows more interest in the baby than in her contemporary. And, when we go to the playground, Jayda always stops her climbing and jumping and swinging as soon as she sees a stroller glide by. She’ll run over and peer inside, and refuse to do anything else but stand and watch the baby.

At home, it’s the same story; Jayda has an arsenal of toy babies whom she dotes on, night and day. There’s “little baby,” her very first doll, which I let her pick out from a shelf full of options at a toy store (and who happens to be African American), and “big baby,” a giggling, bottle-sucking doll that was a birthday present from a friend. There are also countless other dolls and stuffed animals whom she calls her babies, all of whom get fed and cuddled and dressed by Jayda with care.

Both friends, as well as strangers who have observed Jayda’s behavior, have joked that I “need to give Jayda a baby sister or brother.” And, I do believe Jayda would be a wonderful big sis. But I don’t have the desire—or the resources—to have another child. Being Jayda’s mom is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life…but I don’t feel the urge to do it again. No other child could be a more perfect match for me than Jayda. But, as someone who grew up with siblings, I sometimes wonder if Jayda is missing out on anything by being an only child. And when I ponder this, I try to find comfort in something a wise friend once told me: Just because a child has a sibling doesn’t mean he or she will be close to that sibling. I have two siblings…a sister whom I adore and a brother whom I dislike. Sure, I love my brother because he’s my family, but has having him as a sibling enhanced my life? Definitely not. Would I be ok without him? Absolutely. So, there are no guarantees that giving Jayda a baby brother or sister would also mean providing her with a lifelong friend.

Lifelong friends aren’t born…they’re made. And so, I try to surround Jayda with people who love her…people whom she can count on when she needs help and support. People who will do all the things for her a good sibling can do. And, of course, I also try to befriend people who have babies of their own: babies we can visit—but whom I don’t have to take care of, too.

My Kid Oughta Be in Pictures -- by Jamie Levine

I think my daughter is the most beautiful girl in the world. Doesn’t every mother believe that of her child? But my adoring perception of Jayda has been validated time and time again by more objective people than myself. From her “gorgeous blue eyes” and “amazing curls” to her downright “Gerber baby” appeal, I’ve heard more compliments about my daughter than you can imagine.

Even when Jayda was just a few months old, she seemed to have a mesmerizing effect on people. Wherever we went, we were approached by strangers who were charmed by her smile, men who stopped in their tracks when Jayda batted her eyelashes at them, and, even other moms who would joke that my child “was going to be a real man-killer” when she grew up. I’ve actually had people on the street ask me if they could take Jayda’s picture, and was once stopped by a television producer who told me that Jayda would be great on camera because “she’s got the great looks…and the charm.” So, yeah, my daughter is beautiful. Really beautiful.

My father is one of my daughter’s biggest fans. When Jayda was only a few months old, he began his rantings that I “must get her into modeling.” And every compliment Jayda has received from someone in a store or a restaurant since then, has only fueled his fire. As a joke, for one of my father’s birthdays, I gave him a sweatshirt with Jayda’s picture on it and the caption: “Get this kid an agent!” He wears it constantly. But when he prods me to get head shots taken of Jayda or to find her an agent, I shrug my shoulders and suggest, “You do it. I don’t have the time – or the desire – to parade her through modeling agencies and on casting calls.” I’m also not so sure I want to place so much importance on Jayda’s appearance; my daughter is quite intelligent and funny as well, and I’d rather focus on those qualities. But my dad still dreams of seeing Jayda in a print ad. Or on TV.

This Tuesday (September 15th), I’ll be appearing on a local cable TV show called "Something to Talk About.” The segment is about SMCs (Single Mothers by Choice) and I’ll be appearing with another SMC, and speaking about our experiences. It’s a live show, with viewers calling in, and the host, who has seen pictures of Jayda, has asked me to bring her on the show with me. There’s just one problem: The segment starts filming at 8pm – which is Jayda’s bedtime. Generally, Jayda is well-behaved and charming when we’re out of the house and around other people (it’s just at home that she melts down and can turn into a real monster…lucky me!), but we’re never out of the house at 8pm. It’s made me wonder: What might Jayda be like at that hour in a studio? When she’s overtired, she’s quite manic and silly. Will she embarrass me? Make it difficult for me to focus on the topics which I’m on the show to discuss? Or, will she be my darling Jayda — and make me feel proud to have brought her on the air? I wish I knew.

My father, of course, has offered to drive me to the studio with Jayda – and to watch her while I prep for the show. My more reasonable mother has offered to give Jayda dinner and put her to bed while I drive myself to the studio and film my appearance alone. More than likely, I’ll do what’s best for my child – isn’t that what’s most important? But maybe, just maybe, I will give Jayda her 15 minutes of fame.

If you’re in the Long Island area, tune in to my appearance on “Something to Talk About” (Great Neck, NY Cable 20 & Verizon FIOS 37: Tues 8pm (live), Fri 10pm, Mon 5pm and Nassau/W. Suffolk NY Cable 20: Thurs 7:30pm). I’d love to know what you think.

What Kind of Mom Am I? by Jamie Levine

I was a stay-at-home mom once – if you count the 3 ½ months I was on maternity leave. I was also a full-time working/commuting-to-the-city mom – for about 16 months after that. And right now? I’m not sure what I am. After my beloved children’s book buying job of 10 years was eliminated back in January, I started freelance writing and consulting to pay the bills. In the past few months, I’ve also picked up some coaching clients (I’m a certified life coach). And I’m always networking. Always looking for more work and/or another full-time job, while trying to decide “what to do with my life.” It’s pretty time-consuming figuring out how to support my daughter long-term, by myself. Thus, as I often joke, I’m the busiest unemployed person I know!

When I first lost my job, my immediate reaction was to keep my daughter in her daycare – but for shorter hours – because I didn’t want to “disrupt” her life. She loves it there and well, I love having the time to get my work done without worrying about her. But now, over six months later, it sometimes feels strange. Mind you, Jayda and I have plenty of “extra” time together now that I’m no longer commuting. She’s up at 5 a.m. (and so am I, by default) and I don’t drop her off at daycare until 8. That’s a lot of quality morning time! And when I pick her up at 4 p.m., we still have hours together to do things, eat dinner at the same time, and enjoy a lot of unrushed book-reading and cuddling before bed. I give Jayda plenty of attention, and we’re closer than ever. But I sometimes feel guilty for not keeping her at home with me all the time. I mean, it’s not like I have an office to go to every day.

The truth is, I don’t want to be a stay-at-home mom! I love my daughter…truly adore her. But being with her 24/7 drives me nuts! Especially when we’re just staying home or running errands. She’s a wonderful kid…but she is a toddler. A very intelligent, inquisitive, attention-needing, at-times-tantrum-throwing toddler. That’s why I keep us so active when she IS home with me (on weekends, holidays, etc.). I fill up our calendar as far in advance as I can, and run myself ragged going places and doing things with Jayda when we’re together. Because being at home alone with my daughter – and staying idle – makes me crazy.

Of course, financially, I’m not always sure Jayda’s time in daycare makes sense for us. Lately, I’ve been wondering if I should shorten her hours a bit more. But if I bring her in later in the morning, I lose my much-needed before-work gym time. And that’s what keeps me sane. And if I pick her up earlier, it cuts into her outdoor playtime with her friends. Also very important.

Am I being a spendthrift? Or worse – selfish? And what kind of mother can I label myself as now, anyway? I no longer truly identify with my full-time working-long-hours mommy friends…but I’m also not a stay-at-home mom, filling my days with play dates and Mommy & Me classes.

However, I do love our routine. I have just enough Jayda-time and just enough Jamie-time. And while Jayda’s face always lights up when I arrive to take her home from daycare, it does take us 15 minutes or more to get out of there. She’s too busy hugging all her friends, saying goodbye to her teachers, and simply, not wanting to leave. So, for now, I guess I’m just Jayda’s mom…a woman who’s trying to find her way professionally, working to stay healthy and sane, and most of all, is devoted to keeping her daughter happy and thriving. And I suppose that’s a pretty good kind of mom to be.