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.

A Boy and His Dogs -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worn Out - by Robin

I am worn out today (Thursday).

It's that time of the month, and my 40-something hormones are whacked, so this was not expected.

Seth is being a total Dennis the Menace....or should I say vandal.

And, I got into a fender bender.

I was driving through town, as I do many days, enroute to TJ Maxx with a friend for a shopping jaunt. I was looking forward to a fun few hours. My week has been consumed with carpet installation, inspectors, and painters. The main street in my town is in a constant state of gridlock, and today was no different.

As I approached a corner, two cars were stopped waiting to turn. It was taking forever, so I endeavored to get around them. I inched out, and as quickly as I did that, an SUV came careening behind me. I didn't see it, and it crashed into the right front side of my car. Totally took off my headlight and the surrounding hardware and part of the front bumper.

I called the police, and an accident report was filed. The other driver took it in stride and basically said, "accidents happen." I, on the other hand, felt it was his fault, and was very rattled about it. I was grateful that no one was hurt, but it made me a bit nervous to drive (although we did still go to TJ). And, it's made me all the more aware of how we can't control others. I have always considered myself a safe, defensive driver, but still, accidents can happen. I just have to accept that. Now we'll have to deal with our insurance company.

Then, once I get home, I made a discovery in the living room. Seth had decided to play Bob the Builder (or something like that). He removed (and destroyed) the hinges to our living room armoire and dropped them in the garbage, along with the screws. I happened to stumble upon the armoire that looked funny and realized the hinges were missing. On top of that, he decided to draw on the armoire with a pen, and denying doing any of it. My husband had the lovely task of dumping out the kitchen garbage and rummaging through it. Amazingly, he found the hinges and screws, but is unable to put it back together.

Then, we discovered that Seth took Duco Cement and put it on the living room phone. What that was about, I have no clue.

Then, we discovered that he scrapped off some of the paint and spackle that was newly done in the hall and on his bedroom door.

I've never seen him go through such a totally destructive streak. It left me completely speechless.

We took away his wallet (with allowance in it), threw out one of his pet fire trucks, took away tv and dessert tonite and told him that we have lost trust in him in our home. And, that he now needs to work on gaining it back.

Just unreal.

I am worn out from it all.

This weekend is the Jewish Holiday, and I look forward to spending some quality time with family and friends.

I'd like to be able to put this week behind me and see Seth work on regaining our trust. I realize he's only six, but he's gotta make some concerted effort to make up for these actions.

Wishing all the Jewish families out there a very happy, and healthy!

The Hands of Time - by Robin

What kind of senior will I be?

It's a hard thing to anticipate. But, I do hope to live to a ripe old age (and hopefully have a "quality" life.) But, how do you define "quality" when you're elderly?

I watched my dad this past week during our annual family vacation, and it was an example of what I hope not to become. I hate to say it, but my dad yearns unrealistically to be 40 again. OK....maybe he'd settle for 60.....but certainly some age where he doesn't feel his age. (He's told often he doesn't look it....but that doesn't offer him much consolation.)

I've said to him on countless occasions...is it truly possible at almost age 91 to feel great?! Does anyone at that age?

I don't feel as I did when I was younger....at almost 50 (I choke when I type that number....though I'm not there yet.)

Ted Kennedy sadly just passed away at age 77 after a bout of brain cancer. That couldn't have been pleasant.

Dominick Dunne, author/journalist, passed away at age 83 from bladder cancer. No doubt also not a walk in the park.

What does my dad expect?! And thank G-d, my dad is not suffering from cancer. Much of his discomfort is the result of complications from surgeries in hindsight he didn't need to have and didn't benefit from. He does not have a disease...unless old age is considered such. I think it is, in his mind.

I can't condemn him for wanting to fight the hands of time. I guess most of us do. But, does that mean your days then become full of constant complaining....bringing down those around you....especially loved ones who try to be supportive to the best of their ability, but have their our challenging lives to lead? Isn't it still possible to find happiness despite physical imperfection? Or is it that from now on the glass is perpetually 1/2 empty? How do people live with chronic illness?

My beloved mom (who passed away at age 73), may she rest in peace, was not one to complain. Even if she was suffering, she always had the presence of mind to consider the other person and try not to fill their head with negativity. Afterall, attitude does affect healing. So, no one gains from incessant crankiness.

But, how does it feel to be really old?! On one hand, a person may be viewed as blessed to have lived such a full life. After all, disease knows no age, and plenty don't make it to 80+ and then some.

Should one just flat-out be appreciative? Or do you gain the right to complain more and more as the years pass? Is that what aging is about?

My dad has become a doctors dream...in that he frequents them. Though, he's not an easy patient since he complains of so much that I imagine they often don't know where to start. My husband jokes (though it's really not funny) and says that if my father didn't have good medical insurance, he'd learn to live with feeling less than up to par instead of constantly searching for a magic healing bullet.

I hate to put my father down. On one hand, I give him credit for practicing vigilant self care, but at times, it does feel self-absorbed. And, I miss him. I miss the dad who was there for me. I know he still loves and supports me, but the tables have turned. He is no longer my caretaker and can only lend a partial ear to hear what is going on in my life. He's quite caught up in his own daily existence.

I find myself often jealous of those who have parents who are truly there for them and will even watch their kids and do things with them. We have never had that. I wonder what that is like?

At the end of the day....I do love my dad....and miss my mom...and I hope that I don't one day become an emotional burden on my son. I really don't want to turn into a whiny curmudgeon. Perhaps having that awareness is a vital starting point.

The Dora Deception -- by Jamie Levine

“Dora yogurt! I want my Dora yogurt!” my daughter screamed in the kitchen as my mother unpacked the groceries she and Jayda had just bought while I was working.

“Huh? You bought her Dora yogurt?!” I barked at my mom. Jayda certainly gets her share of treats, but my mom knows I try hard to make sure that most of Jayda’s food is healthy. She also knows that Jayda loves Greek yogurt. It’s full of protein, low in sugar and fat, and when I mix fresh fruit in it for her, she devours it. Who needs processed, sugar-filled yogurt? Not us!

My mom explained that Jayda had seen a Dora yogurt drink at the store and wanted it. So, as with all the other “unnecessary” items my daughter had begged for while they shopped, my mom put it in the cart and then snuck it back onto a shelf before they checked out. She hadn’t bought it. However, Jayda, who seemed to have forgotten about all the other missing purchases, couldn’t forget Dora. It was “Dora yogurt! I want it!” all night long.

The next day, I went to the supermarket and took a look at my daughter’s new obsession. As I’d suspected, the yogurt drink had practically no protein, and was packed with sugar. But the container was appealing—pink, covered with pictures of adorable Dora, and even featured a “star counting” game. And the six-pack was on sale! So…what was a responsible, loving mom to do?

I bought the Dora yogurt drinks. Then, I ran home and pulled out my blender. Tossed a container of 2% Greek yogurt in there—and some fresh mango. Then, some organic 1% milk, and a pinch of cinnamon. I thought about adding a little honey, but this mango was so sweet, it wasn’t necessary. When I was satisfied with my concoction, I opened up all of the Dora yogurts I had just purchased—and dumped them down the drain. Finally, I refilled the containers with “my” yogurt drink and sealed them all back up. Presto! Healthy, protein-filled “Dora” yogurt drinks. And you know what? My kid loves them!

Now, if they only sold Dora frozen broccoli!

Lessons from the Basement

Bob the Builder Jr. is officially here.

My son went to town as the demolition crew struck ground in the basement yesterday. He put on his rain boots, gloves, grabbed his hammer and shovel and dug his heels in as he helped, after school, to scoop up the remains of the tile floor.

He was in all his glory, and I was consumed with emotion I didn't expect.

As much as I was not wedded to our basement, along with the rubble and remains arose feelings that caught me off guard.

I was chatting with my wise friend, Michele Laub, this morning. She is leading the Conscious Parenting Teleclass Series MotherhoodLater.com is sponsoring starting June 18th (details are posted on our home page.) And, she got me better understanding my thoughts.

It's amazing how you can want to hold on to the familiar, even when it needs an overhaul. Whether a relationship, job, home...or whatever it is. You hear stories all the time of people, for example, staying in abusive relationships, and I've often wondered why? Now I feel like I get it. Because you're used to it...for better or worse.

My basement is teaching me this.

I took pictures before the demolition started, but it frankly, blew my mind to see pieces tumbling down and for the entire basement remains to be loaded on a truck destined for the dump.

We are gutting our basement by choice. Even though it was finished, there wasn't much good about it except for the potential it held. The lighting was poor. Wires were coming out of the ceiling. Doors were falling off. Closet space was sparse. It was in some ways an actual hazard.

Once this project is done, I have no doubt it will look amazing. Our contractor is fastidious, as are the specialists he's called in. Today I met the electrician who seems really on the ball. We'll be "living" with these guys for at least six weeks, so it's good to have confidence.

I'm just a bit stunned re: my reaction. It took some strength for me last night to venture down to the basement to see the bare beams, vacant floor, stripped walls, etc. Everything I knew was gone.

It's letting go of the old and making way for the new. It's trusting that complete strangers will deliver what we hope for and more. It's relinquishing control, knowing that there will be unforeseen challenges along the way. (We lost cable and phone service part of today and yesterday.) It's having the faith that we'll willingly trust our guts and make the right decisions when there are choices.

It's seeing the excitement in my son's eyes as he rushes to exit the school bus and runs to the top of the stairs to check on the status of the project. It's knowing that we'll once again have our living room back as we move Seth's toys downstairs in what will be a terrific play space, not to mention the ample storage closets we anticipate. It's knowing I'll have a place for my books that I treasure that now occupy part of Seth's bookcase in his room because I have no other place to put them.

It's knowing that we've embarked on a major home renovation that will change our lives as a family for the better for years to come. I'm immensely grateful that we're in a position to do this, despite the economy, and I have every confidence it's an investment that is worth its weight in gold on many levels and will ultimately enhance the value of the house.

For now, I'm going to sit with the feelings the demolition has arisen in me, knowing as my beloved mom used to say, "this too shall pass."

Who knew that a basement would unearth so much and lead to a growth experience in more ways than one?!

Adulthood

The school year will soon come to a close. Amazing. Seth will be a kindergarten graduate before I blink my eyes.

This coming week is the orientation for the school he will enter in the fall. It's way larger than where he currently attends and feels so adult to me. How will it feel to him? It's hard to imagine my little guy...who's now really quite the big boy...navivating the long halls and staircases and continuing to create a life for himself separate and distinct from me.

But, isn't that what parenting is really all about? We moms do our best so our children can fly.

We've started a new routine in the house. I pick out Seth's clothes in the evening, or he chooses them in the morning, and then dresses himself. It saves time as we inevitably rush to prepare for the school bus, and it's one more step toward autonomy. Some days he takes the initiative. Other days, I help him. It's still kinda nice to be needed in that way.

Next week we are starting a major demolition/construction project in the house of our basement. A Bob the Builder wannabe when he's not aspiring to be a Rescue Hero or Power Ranger, Seth is chomping at the bit to get out his tool kit and go at it. The contractor said he'd take him under his wing, and Seth is totally thrilled and counting the days.

I, on the other hand, am counting the days this project will be complete. It's been 9 months in the making since we signed with the contractor who is much in demand. But, the end result will be worth it. Seth will have a fantastic playspace in the basement that he can grow into and use with friends even as a teenager. I look forward to regaining my living room and relocating the bulk of his toys downstairs. But, until completion day, there will be much stress and mess. And, workers daily in my house, which I don't embrace.

I was speaking with a friend earlier this week about life. A pretty broad subject to say the least. We were agreeing how sometimes it just feels so full and daunting. Jumping from task to task...responsibility to responsibility. So many details, things to handle, etc. I have days where I wish I weren't an adult. Know what I mean? There's something to be said, on a certain level, for being taken care of when things feel overwhelming.

I hope Seth enjoys his childhood to the fullest and doesn't wish the years away before he grows up. He speaks about his adult aspirations, i.e. having a wife and family and SUV with a television and living in our house (he would like us to move out when he's grown up so he can have it) and be a fireman or some other profession where he can help people.

Though at age 6, he likes to do things for himself, there are times when no one does it like a mom. And, I'm glad to be there for him. He'll be "my little guy" forever in my heart.

Keeping Up with the Mother Joneses

I've never considered myself a competitive person. An achiever....yes. Driven.....yes. Perfectionist at times....sure (not that I've succeeded at that, or should want to). Control freak. I do like things a certain way, I admit.

Well, that and more, needs to be abandoned when it comes to parenting, I'm quickly learning.

And, the other thing that I'm learning is not to compare myself or my child to others.

No book comes with parenting, though plenty are written on the subject. When Seth was little, I used to peruse some of them. These days I have little time for that and would sooner reach out to a parenting expert or seasoned mom friend who has been there, done that.

I did both recently after a chat with a mom friend that left me thinking...a lot.

She was speaking about a series of well-regarded books a friend had recommended as learning tools to teach your child when they are very young. And, she applauded how a couple of moms, in particular, who she knows, have used them with their children to teach them to read at a young age, etc.

I wondered what Seth is supposed to be capable of at this time. I spoke with his teacher who said he is progressing as he should in terms of knowing/writing letters, names, numbers, etc. But, I thought, is this enough? Should I be doing more? As a parent, we want our children to succeed. We have high aspirations for them and want to know that we're doing/have done our best.

No doubt there are varying schools of thought on this subject. But, there is something to be said for letting a child be a child. Sure academics are important, and school does seem WAY demanding these days, but quality play time is essential too. And, according to a parenting expert I well respect and have consulted with, at the age of 5, allowing your child's imagination to soar through creative play is something to strive for.

We can expose them to new experiences, and endeavor to share what we think is cool about the world. And, that is important. But, ultimately, they are their own person with interests, strengths, challenges, etc. that we can do our best to support and nuture...and they may not coincide with ours. But, that's ok.

One day our kids will fly on their own, and their childhood should be just that. A time of fun, games, love...and certainly learning...but it shouldn't be about "keeping up with the mother jones." And, I'm not saying that this mom friend or others I know view parenting as a contest. I'm just speaking for myself in that I need to...and want to... focus on Seth and his uniqueness...and let his natural abilities soar. Comparing him will surely not do either of us any good.