Honesty - Part I -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GUEST BLOG POST: Everybody Knows Best When You’re a Mom (Except for You) – by Laura Day, author, How to Rule the World From Your Couch

Last I heard, men don't breastfeed. However, my father, when I gave birth to my son on my 33rd birthday, had doctrine on the matter. Partly in response, I ignored my intuition and breast fed until my son, Samson, could unbutton my shirt with one hand. He is now 18, and two rounds of braces have corrected the dental damage. For my breasts, well, as my father says, they served their biological function.

There is too much information available on how to raise your child, but the oldest and the best is that you, the mother, are hardwired to know what to do, even when you are sure you don't! So, how do you listen to your intuition and your hardwired instinct to do the right thing for both you (yes you are still worthy of care) and your child?

First of all, skim the child-rearing books, school info, family info, et al, but keep a book of your own wisdom, and treat that book as you would the Akashic records.

When you see in print what you suspect/know is true, proven time and again, you will be fluid in those moments where your little Einstein decides to throw down the gauntlet in the middle of a family wedding or a upscale shopping mall.

When you sense that something is wrong, or something everyone says is wrong is just fine, allow your awareness to build your case, detailing why you sense your way is best. Intuition can be proven correct when you allow it to provide you with details (and write them down). This is best done over time. Carry that little book with you, and you will amaze yourself.

You teach best by example. Take good care of you. Have a little book that allows your attention to gather information on how you and your child/children can make the best possible team for all team members (yes, that includes you) and implement the information in your daily life.

You speak your own child's intuitive language, and you always will. You know what each other is thinking, feeling, doing. Don't stop listening to the dialog, and don't lie, although share in age appropriate forms. You may not think so now, but if you keep the intuitive conversation open, you will be prepared in advance (the gift of intuition), as will your child, for all of life’s challenges.

One day at school, a fellow classmate called my son a "mama's boy" to which he responded, "yes, I am, and who's boy should I be?"


Laura Day is the New York Times best selling author of PRACTICAL INTUITION and her most recent book HOW TO RULE THE WORLD FROM YOUR COUCH. She has been featured on Oprah, Good Morning America, The Martha Stewart Show as well as Newsweek, Marie Claire, The Wall Street Journal and other international publications. Laura teaches how to use intuition in practical ways to create more successful lives. Visit http://www.howtoruletheworldfromyourcouch.com. Follow Laura at http://www.twitter.com/lauradayintuit

Reassurance with Trepidation -- by Robin

A friend of mine raised a question this week that immediately resonated with me.

She is having marital challenges and finds herself feeling the need to reassure her young son that all will ultimately be ok, in the face of her own deep letdown and insecurity. Understandably so, under the circumstances, she is very hurt by a man she had planned to spend her life with and who she relied on to be a strong, constant presence in her son's life. Now, the future seems uncertain, and she's digging deep to find an inner strength powerful enough for two...both her and her son.

Not only do I feel for her, but I "got" it. I truly did.

Totally different set of circumstances, but I, too, found myself as a mom, working hard to offer reassurance to my son despite my own trepidation.

I grew up with parakeets. At one time, we had three in my childhood home. Parry, Polly and Corky. They were green, blue and yellow. I remember them like it was yesterday...especially the story of how my mom valiantly captured Corky at a local supermarket during a shopping trip. He must have flown the coop from his owner's cage in the neighborhood, and my mother and others bird lovers hunted him down, and mom was the victor, bringing him home in a paper bag. I thought it was so heroic.

Ultimately, one by one they passed away, not to be replaced.

When I got married, Marc and I bought a parakeet of our own. We named her Chiffon because she looked like the white and yellow of lemon chiffon pie. Or, perhaps it was meringue? But, Chiffon sounded better.

I adored her, but 5 years ago, she passed away, and my heart was broken.

Seth was very young then, though he swears he remembers and misses her. We do have photos in the house, and I vividly recall how she used to land on the tray of his high chair, as he'd swat at her with delight, and she hopped away from his attempt to grab hold of her.

After years of knowing that no bird would be the same...I used to call her a "little person with feathers..." I decided I had room in my heart for another. I was ready. Seth would have preferred a dog or cat, but since we weren't going to go there, we opted for a larger bird. Something bigger than a parakeet, but not as large or pricey as an Amazon Parrot.

Hence, we are now the proud owners of Smokey the Cockatiel. Or Smokes, as Seth has dubbed him/her. We think it's a girl, but we're not sure. She's 5 months old and is yellow with patches of smokey grey, hence her name.

It was exciting picking her out in the pet store. Quite unnerving bringing her home in a dark cardboard box for a car ride that felt like a lifetime. I kept imagining that the poor thing must have been terrified. Every now 'n then, we heard a small thud in the box. I presumed it was her attempt to break free.

We speedily prepared her cage and let her out of the box into her new home. And, she freaked out. One minute she looked like a frozen deer in headlights. The next she was fluttering about wildly. Afraid she was going to hurt herself, I took her out of the cage. She made a hissing sound and pecked my hand...luckily I'm not afraid of being bitten. But, I felt so badly. What would it take to get her to trust us? And, how long would the process be? Can you imagine how she must feel? One minute she's in a cage with birds like herself and the next she's living in a strange cage all alone with people she doesn't know staring at her and talking to her.

I want her to love us. We already love her.

Seth kept asking me if Smokey was ok? I believed she was, but there was a little girl inside of me who was fearful knowing that I have no experience with a Cockatiel, and questioned what I was thinking getting a larger bird like this? Couldn't I just remain within my comfort zone and stick to another parakeet?

An even louder voice was screaming at me to believe in myself and our ability as a family to care for and endear this bird to us. As the matriarch, I am the one to assure both Seth and my husband that we made the right choice here. That we'll enjoy Smokey, and she'll enjoy us. And, that we will conquer Cockatiel territory, if we do our homework and have patience.

But, it made me realize, that just because someone is a grown-up, doesn't mean they have all the answers. And, as a mom, we have our moments of uncertainty just like anyone. But, to our children, we strive to be the ever present hero, so that if they're not feeling so brave or confident, we instill in them a sense of peace as we endeavor to navigate new ground together. But who makes us feel brave? How can we do that for ourselves? We can't always look to others even if they offer support. As they say, sometimes it's an "inside" job." And, maybe we're stronger than we admit?!

Smokey made me think back to bringing Seth home from the hospital. That was 7 years ago, and I'm no longer that same novice mom. I still have my days of self doubt. I'm sure I always will. But, just as with Seth, I trust that one day I will feel like caring for a Cockatiel is within my comfort zone, or at least relatively speaking.


PS -- On another note, Motherhoodlater.com is presenting a Life Changing Parenting Teleseminar Series starting April 7th with Elizabeth Pflaum of AAA Parent Coaching. Slots are still open. Visit http://www.motherhoodlater.com and click on the Teleseminar box for info.

Worried Sick -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm Scared -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Mommy is Sick -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breaking Point -- by Robin

What a week this has been.

A true sandwich generation experience in every sense of the word....both positive and challenging.....which I guess is the essence of this time in my life.

Don't get me wrong. I am immensely grateful on some levels to be here. I adore my son and love my senior dad. I treasure my time with both of them. And, I fully recognize that moments can be fleeting, so I strive to take it all in. But, at the same time, it can wear one out. Especially a 40 something peri-menopausal mom.

Seth had school break this week, and my 91 year old dad went in for an angiogram. And, I, myself, have this lingering cold and went on antibiotic....since I had a bout with pneumonia back in November.

Other than one scheduled playdate for Seth, we've pretty much been winging our plans each day. I've taken him to the gym with me and discovered that we can have a good time throwing the 4 lb. medicine ball to each other. He's actually quite strong and agile, and I love that he loves to exercise and strive for good health. Yesterday, we spent a record three hours at the gym, and he didn't want to leave. Part of that time was spent with him perched on one of the Nautilus machines he designated as a fire truck, as he proceeded to save me and others at the gym from pretend fires. His imagination never ceases to intrigue me.

Last night for dinner, we baked a surprisingly good homemade pizza from scratch.

And, we've done food shopping and other errands, including putting the finishing touches on his upcoming 7th birthday parties in class and at Progressive Gymnastics East.

While all this was underway this week, my dad stayed overnight at the hospital, and his cardiologist called me while I was at the gym, as I endeavored to stay as calm as I could...when really I was anything but. My dad years ago had triple bypass and at a later date had stents put in. Now it seems that more stents are in order and that he will have to return to the hospital for the procedure. The cardiologist is being extra cautious, given his age, and wants to carefully review the films of his last angiogram three years ago before potentially moving forward. I respect this, though I hate to see my dad have to go back to the hospital again.

I was near tears last night when Seth decided to draw a book that showed grandpa in the hospital. He's a child who feels deeply. He always has.

I spoke to my dad upon his return home, and he sounded worn. A night in the hospital can do that to you, but he's also been through a lot in life in general. And, sometimes I think he feels it's enough when his body fails him in ways he's never experienced. Aging isn't easy. I wouldn't say he's lost his will to live, but he does feel he lacks a quality life. He's frustrated on a daily basis, and it's a hard thing to hear. I want better for him.

A mom I know said to me this week that she's realizing more and more the need not to put off things. She just helped hire an aide for her in-laws and sees them having physical challenges they never used to.

My husband's best friend's wife lost her 80 something mother a month ago, and earlier this week, her brother in his late 50s unexpectedly passed away. Life can be fragile. I'm receiving that message from the universe loud 'n clear.

I've just begun to read Devotion, a new book by Dani Shapiro, and from the book jacket copy alone, I can so relate to the essence of her motivation to write this memoir. It says...."In her midforties and settled into the responsibilities and routines of adulthood, Dani Shapiro found herself with more questions than answers. Was this all life was -- a hodgepodge of errands, dinner dates, e-mails, meetings, to-do lists? What did it all mean?"

I do know that I need a little break before I reach my breaking point. In April, the next school vacation, I may go away with Seth. Marc, my husband, can't take time off then due to tax season. So, it would be my first time just with Seth away from home. It would be fun to go visit a close friend. I could use some quality gal pal time, laughs, heartfelt in-person chats, and a change of atmosphere.

I pray that my dad's potential stent procedure won't be during that period.

Playdate Peer Pressue -- by Robin

When does peer pressure start to influence your child?

We had a playdate this past weekend, and I was somewhat stunned at the behavior of my son. His friend came over, and he's a bit younger than Seth, and a very active boy. Seth is too, but at times, it felt like this boy topped him.

The plan was to play in our newly refurbished basement. And, his parents came too. We're all good friends, so it was a good opportunity for everyone to socialize. And, we were excited to showcase our basement and to be able to share it, since the whole construction process was quite the ordeal (if you read my previous blog).

From the moment the boy arrived, things felt a bit wild in the house. They wound up running up 'n down the stairs, playing in Seth's room, the hall, in the basement...all over the house. I had baked a quiche, and was serving lunch in the basement for my friends, and had made mac 'n cheese for the boys. Certainly, we knew in all their excitement of being together, shooting Nerf guns, etc., that taking a lunch break was no where on their minds. That was okay. But, what transpired was not okay in my book.

As they rain upstairs, they deliberately pushed the sliding lock on the basement door (outside the door), and locked the three adults in the basement. We could not get out. It was very unsettling. We banged on the door and yelled and yelled, and finally they let us out. And, then 10 minutes later, they did it again, despite our scolding them.

This time I had enough, and my friend asked for a screwdriver removed the lock from the door, and I took the two boys in the kitchen, sat them down to eat their now cold lunch, and we had a discussion about behavior, safety, etc.

I told Seth there would be punishment for his behavior, and that mommy and daddy would discuss it and let him know what it is. My friends said that it wasn't Seth's fault. That their son was involved as well, but that didn't make it any better for me. Seth didn't stop it.

What arose for me with this experience is of great concern. Seth is six...soon to be seven....and at what age do kids just go along with other kids, even if they know their behavior isn't ideal? And, actually downright dangerous.

I said to my husband that Seth needs to learn a big lesson from this. But, is it possible at his young age? Is it too much to expect a six year old to grasp that he doesn't have to go along with the crowd, or even just one other child?

And, what happens as he gets older? Today, it's locking a basement door. They'll be countless other influences and influencers who come into his life as he matures. Will he be discerning enough to resist? Will he emerge a leader vs. a follower?

How can you as parent instill in your child an innate sense of what is right and wrong? Is it possible?

We can't be by his side 24-7, especially as he spends more and more time with friends, and less with mommy & daddy, so he will need to reach conclusions on his own.

I do want to set in place an understanding of values that he can apply to help guide him through life in a positive way.

I'd love to hear from you. Do you have older children, and how have you dealt with this matter? If you have younger children, is it something you think about? Please do share....I welcome stories and advice.

PS -- Be sure to sign up for our free monthly newsletter at www.MotherhoodLater.com. The February giveaway is courtesy of Lisa Leonard Designs, makes of something unique custom jewelry & more, enjoyed by celebrities and others.

A Boy and His Dogs -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hugs, Cuddles and Eskimo Kisses -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wisdom Tooth Week -- by Robin

I got my lower left wisdom tooth pulled this week. A filling had cracked, and I was advised to take it out.

Years ago, I had had four adult teeth pulled when I was getting braces, and I survived. I had totally forgotten that I also had my lower right wisdom pulled decades ago. I have a vague recollection that it was coming in crooked.

I know in the scheme of things health wise, the tooth pulling this week was thankfully not a big one, yet I found myself feeling uptight about it. Especially, when the dentist gave me the lengthy list of the potential aftermath that I might experience, however unlikely, that I had to sign off on. Who would want to get a tooth pulled after reading all that?! I wanted to bolt from the chair immediately, but the assistant came in and reassured me it was standard procedure.

Once the procedure was over and I was all numbed up from novacaine and on Motrin, I did some thinking.

Why was I so nervous? It was only a tooth.

I do have discomfort and a mild headache from it, but it will pass. And, ok, I'm eating just yogurt and sugar free jello right now, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

This procedure pushed a button. A fear button in me. And, one of control. I've found that as I've gotten older, I feel more vulnerable, yet at the same time, protective of my body. In my 20s, I didn't much think about it. Perhaps I felt invincible at the time? Now, I don't.

A number of years ago, I had a scary health scenario that ultimately turned out ok, but it left me with huge trepidation when it comes to doctors....or anyone in the medical profession. I want my body poked and prodded as little as possible by anyone in a white jacket bearing instruments or instrumentalia (as I said jokingly to a friend the other day).

I am appreciative for good medical care, but I'd prefer not to need it.

I recently saw the comedian Susie Essman perform at a very cool event in NYC called Women Who Write. She was hysterical, as she read from her new book (currently featured on the home page of MotherhoodLater.com). I felt like the words were coming out of my mouth, as I think many in the audience did. Susie is in her 50s and admits to often thinking she has diseases when she learns of someone who contracted it. Even if it's prostate cancer. LOL. I have been known, at times, I admit it....to refer to WebMd to look up symptoms I have in the search of self diagnosis. Sometimes it's calming, and other times it gets the wheels turning even further anxiously in my head.

Fortunately, I don't do this with my son. Although, when he recently was put on Tamiflu, I did read up on it a bit. Being informed is a good thing. Being overly fearful when it's not warranted isn't.

I certainly don't want Seth to know I do this....or to have health fears himself. I don't want this to rub off on him. My husband is not this way.

Is it a female thing?

Is it life as a 40 something female thing?

Is it life as a 40 something peri-menopausal female thing?

Perhaps all of the above.

I wish I could return to my more fearless 20-something self. But, we can't turn back the hands of time. And, like it or not, we need doctors, dentists, etc. I was not in a position to pull my own tooth...though my son probably would have taken great pleasure in rising to the occasion for me. He was quick to take out his toy medical kit when I got home. And, he was hugely disappointed when I told him I didn't have the pulled tooth. He asked why? Who knew it would be such a letdown for him not to see my cracked, cavity filled tooth?! If there is a next time (I have two remaining wisdom teeth), I'll know better.

He really is all boy. Perhaps a little dentist in the making? While I'm not so sure of that, I do appreciate his concern for my welfare and his curiosity about the human body.

Vacation from Motherhood -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loving Without Regret -- by Cara

I read Robin’s article about happiness on Friday. She truly loves her son, and it most certainly comes across in her blogs. I know she has exasperating days; we all do as parents. But Robin doesn’t give up. She lives in the moment and tries to find a silver lining in even the most trying of situations with her child.

I aspire to be more like Robin with my son. He’s tough. He can easily give you a run for your money and you usually have to be two thought processes ahead because he’ll stop you in your tracks, speechless, with some of the things he says. He is not rude or obnoxious in any way. He’ll just catch you off guard when you least expect it. For example, if I ask him to clean up his toys and he doesn’t want to, I will give him a consequence to ponder. I will inform him that if he will not pick up the toys, I will give them away to other children who need toys. His comeback, “Okay. You can take that game over there. I don’t play with that anymore either.” See what I mean? He’s tough and he’s smart.

I sometimes run through a lot of days like this with him. Sometimes a whole week of moody, irritable behavior. And I admit, I say to myself, is it really worth it having a child? Yes, I marvel at how adept he is at putting together a complex Lego set. Or melt when I see how gentle and empathetic he is with all types of animals. But those trying days, especially several in a row, do make me question my decision to have had a child.

I decided to blog on this topic because another Mom, on a different website, posed the same question: “If you had a second chance, knowing what you know now, would you still have children?” I must say, that’s a bold and gutsy question to ask a group of other Moms! But this group of Moms can take questions such as this and not be overly judgmental about them.

The answers were shockingly honest, but the consensus was that although this group of Moms want to sell their own children sometimes (this IS a bold and gutsy group!), they do not regret being parents at all!

So I asked myself the same question: If I were able to do it over, knowing what I know now, would I still have wanted to conceive? And the answer is without a doubt, YES! I would hate to get to age 80, childless, and be left with “what if” floating over my head. I want the experience of being a parent. And it is an experience that changes and matures you like no other experience ever could or will.

Yes, I wish my son were not so antagonistic or whiny or moody. But he is who he is. And I accept that. He is still young at 6, and is just at the point in his life where he is testing limits and boundaries and new dance moves! He is learning what acceptable versus unacceptable language is, no matter where he hears it from. He is learning tolerance and at least a little more patience. He is bursting with newness every single moment!

So as a 40+ Mom, do I get tired? Yes. Exasperated? Yes. Even too worn out to properly discipline? Unfortunately yes to that too, sometimes. But do I regret being a Mom and watching my son grow and evolve? Not a single chance! A little extra sleep and a few extra cuddles definitely helps makes it ALL worthwhile!

Some Things Never Change -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

White Christmas -- by Cara

There is something about having a young child in the home that brings a little extra excitement to a holiday. Especially Christmas. Especially when it snows.

We had a blizzard run through the East Coast, where we live, this past weekend, which prompted my son to insist that Santa and his reindeer were coming! He was so sure, that he kept stopping in his tracks to say, “Shh! I hear reindeer!,” several times that night! I tried to repeatedly explain that Christmas wasn’t for a few more days. But he tenaciously insisted that if it snows, especially a lot of snow, then Santa would be on his way!

I bought ingredients to make cookies for Santa later in the week, but my son couldn’t wait. The only cookies we had in the house were Nilla wafers, so my son pushed a chair to the cabinet where we have the special “Santa plate,” took it out, put Nilla wafers on one side for Santa and baby carrots on the other side for the reindeer. He then brought the plate to a small table in our Living Room and pushed the table near to our fireplace.

Next was fireplace redecoration. All of the decorations that were in front of the fireplace had to be moved. Unfortunately to the middle of the Living Room. My son is quite lucky because I didn’t have a fireplace in my home growing up. We had to concoct a pretend one! Next, my son had to gather my assistance in hanging up everyone’s stockings on the mantel. Bye, bye Hanukkah display, hello stockings!

When my son was sure that everything was in place for Santa to come, he excitedly went to bed, but had a hard time falling asleep.

At exactly 4:45 am, I felt little hands pushing all of the blankets and covers off me (why do children do this to their mothers and not their fathers??). He was terribly excited that Santa had come and he wanted me to go downstairs with him to see if Santa had left some presents. I groggily told my son that I was pretty certain that Santa hadn’t come yet. But my excited little boy pushed the blinds to one of our window’s aside and exclaimed, “But Mommy!! Santa had to come!! There is so much snow outside!!” THAT part he was certainly right about...at least a foot of snow blanketed our backyard! And even at 4:45 am, you could see the wonder and the beauty of it!

To satisfy my son’s endless curiosity as to whether Santa had arrived, I went downstairs with him to see if there were any presents. To my son’s utter dismay, no presents were in sight and the Nilla wafers and carrots remained untouched. My son sulked to his room and I tucked him into bed, assuring him that in just a few short days, Santa WOULD be coming. And the magic of Christmas would be upon us!

He fell back to sleep, and I couldn’t help but think back to my own memories of trying to stay awake to hear reindeer hooves on the roof. Or to climb out of bed before anyone was up and search every present for ones that had my name on them!

The same scenario will occur tomorrow night! Snow will probably still be blanketing the ground. Homemade cookies and fresh carrots will be put out. Decorations will be removed from in front of the fireplace. And at approximately 4:45 am, little hands will be anxiously pushing covers off of me so that I can join my son in the REAL magic of Christmas!

Interfaith Traditions -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hotel Snob -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mensch-in-the-Baking -- by Robin

We had our parent teacher meeting this week, and I almost got choked up.

They had the nicest things to say about Seth in terms of his character and personality. We talked about how he always wants to help people, and has huge empathy and an unusual level of maturity when it comes to expressing concern for people's well-being.

My husband and I have long known this. I've always been struck by his big-heartedness, coupled with his spunky personality. He'd be the first on the scene to come to someone's aid, and he's the life of the party. We've always joked that he's going to be the "mayor' of our town one day....though Seth aspires to be a fireman.

He is a "little love" in my book.

That said....we also work hard to reinforce in him the need to give back and be grateful.

In an effort to combine this lesson with something he loves, I got the idea from an article I read to take him to our local volunteer firehouse (for one of our many, many visits)...but this time...to bake brownies for the firemen and express our gratitude for all that they do for the community. Seth loved the idea! He couldn't get in the door fast enough. And, he told his class all about our plans to visit the firehouse.

It made me feel good that he valued the experience. And, I gained from it as well.

One of the outings for MotherhoodLater.com that I planned for the NY chapter was a trip to Ronald McDonald House. There, we also baked brownies (notice the brownie theme?!)....this time for the families who are staying there. Ronald McDonald House is an amazing place that houses/feeds families in need whose children are ill and are receiving nearby medical care.

It was in some ways a harder lesson for Seth to take in, but I explained that we have to value our health and not take it for granted. That even children get sick, and we're doing our part by baking for their families so they can enjoy despite all that they are dealing with.

I consider Seth a mensch (decent person)-in-the-making (or should I say baking?), and I'm proud to help mold him in that way. He's already a natural in the caring department, and if I can help provide experiencesthat offer him further opportunity to grow and share what he is so capable of, I consider it a priority.

It's a win-win situation, and touches me as well. It's so easy to get caught up with all that we have to do in our lives. We live in a day 'n age that is quite consuming....be it with technology or other pursuits we endeavor to keep up with.

But, at the end of the day, it's the simple gestures that go far. And, if that means my becoming a brownie baking queen for the purpose of giving back, Julia Child I'm not, but I'll gladly give it a go. And, Seth is always happy to lick the spoon.

On Being Grateful -- by Cara

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweet Mommy & Me Time -- by Robin

I just have to share...Seth lost his two front baby teeth....and it's a precious sight. He would kill me if I posted a current photo of him here...but trust me....his toothless grin is one that I'm trying my best to capture and preserve for posterity. I took a ton of photos when he was in the bath earlier this week. Surprisingly, he cooperated and grinned from ear to ear. He has always, for the most part, embraced the camera and looks great in photos (we've been told he could model), but every now 'n then he gets into a mood and bans picture taking of any kind.

This week was parent teacher meetings, so he had half a day before Thanksgiving. (We meet with his teachers next week.) I didn't make any particular plans for us, other than knowing I planned to take him to buy ice skates. He's been on the ice three times thus far (once for a lesson) in the last two weeks , and is totally in his element there. I must confess, I personally much prefer sitting by the fireplace outside the rink with a good book. So, if my husband and I take him, I dart back 'n forth between the rink and cozy sitting place. I'm torn because I want to watch Seth make skating strides, yet the chill combined with lack of seating isn't my thing.

In the past I have stressed a bit knowing Seth is off from school....feeling the need to make plans to keep him busy. ..whether I schedule a playdate or something else. This time, I just let it go, and the end result was a nice one. Seth was quite content for a long time to play in the house, and he was excited in the skate store to watch the owner sharpen the skate blades. (Seth has always been very mechanical.) After that, we did a couple of errands...and he picked out a cute Hanukkah gift at Rite Aide for one of his cousins. I was very touched that he thought of her. He's a big-hearted kid.

He was happy when I agreed to take him to the local pizza place for dinner. And, afterwards (my husband worked late), we watched a movie on cable together. It was really a pleasant afternoon, and Seth was good company. I treasure times like this.

He wasn't ansi and asking, as he sometimes does over 'n over again, what are we doing? And, I wasn't anxious about needing to respond in a strategic fashion. I'm not a mom who overschedules her child. I think downtime is important...you have to know your child. But, that said, Seth often likes to be on the go, so balance becomes essential. And, I can't always anticipate the mood he'll be in in terms of wanting to be home to play or not.

I'm just grateful that on this given day, we had really nice mommy & me time, and if I can look forward to that on his other upcoming days off, our time together will be all sweeter.

Hope you & your family had a wonderful Thanksgiving and enjoyed the time off together!!

Crafty Mom vs. Super Hero Turkey! by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No Mom! Power Rangers aren’t shiny!!

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

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

Dancing for Joy -- by Robin

I'm taking an acting class through the local adult ed, and it's really a challenge in more ways than one.

A novelist/playwright friend of mine in town suggested it because she knows I aspire to write a play ("Mensch: The Musical" based on my book HOW TO MARRY A MENSCH...which means decent person). She thought it could help with dialogue, etc.

I have to admit I had no idea what I was getting in to. In high school I was involved with theatre. I served as Prop Master for the production of Arsenic and Old Lace. And, when they did Anything Goes...despite not being a singer.....I auditioned and got selected as an Angel. It was fun, and I got to wear some glamorous/borderline sexy attire....a far cry from my stretch pants and t-shirts of mommyhood. I loved it. And, have always enjoyed hanging with theatre people. Theatre is one of my true loves. To this day, I can't get enough of it. And, I've taken playwriting classes which I've enjoyed, and would love to study further.

All that said, when I signed up for the adult ed acting class, I didn't know what to expect. And, what I've found is more than what I saw coming, and it's frankly....invigorating!

The instructor, who is very experienced and talented, puts a lot of effort into coming up with exercises each week, and homework assignments. This week, she brought in a CD player and announced that she was going to play the music of her rocker godson, and we were to move. Then, move more! she proclaimed. Then, respond to someone else's movement, she said. So, basically we were dancing in what, by day, is a kid's classroom. And, it felt freeing. I was not worried about being self-conscious (okay...maybe a tad). But, I didn't have much time to think about it. And, it was cool. I lost myself. It took me back to my single days when I used to go dancing (in my 20s,) wearing heels and all. Now I found myself momentarily wondering if I even remembered how to dance. How did I dance back then? Were my movements the same or close to it?

I don't go dancing anymore. It's not that I wouldn't want to (though I'm not big on wearing heels anymore). It just doesn't arise...except if we go to a wedding.

Isn't it interesting how at different phases of our life certain activities come and go?! I can understand if, as you age, physical challenges and limitations set in. But, if that's not the case, then why do we cease pursuing particular activities that we once enjoyed? Did we forget we liked them? Have we lost track of what brings us pleasure? Are we so caught up in being "busy" (whatever that means) to even think about inviting joy into our lives?

I was watching actress Kate Hudson, daughter of Goldie Hawn, interviewed on Oprah this week, talking about the upcoming movie Nine. In it, she has a big song/dance number, and while she was super nervous and doesn't consider herself a singer, she was well-trained and pulled it off with aplomb. Oprah asked her, "Are you always so joyous? Whenever you come on the show, you seem that way. " Hudson explained how she was raised to feel things deeply and then seek out the joy. What a great life lesson she got and can pass on to her young son.

How hard is it to blast the music in your own home or ipod and let loose in the privacy of your home if you like? Dance for joy. Let it rip! And, who knows what else might come up for you?

As a child, I loved to make pot holders, crepe paper flowers and other artistic items. I even remember being an entrepreneur back then and setting up a flower/pot holder stand in front of my house, in an attempt to sell my wares. I was quite crafty, and to this day, would probably enjoy crafts, but I don't allow myself the time to pursue it.

I'm so focused on productivity and life responsibility, that doing something just for fun doesn't
regularly cross my mind. I do think of things that my son would find fun. And, we have fun together. But, his idea of fun isn't always mine. And, while that's ok....I envy his ability to relish playtime and focus on that and nothing else when he'e engaged. I, on the other hand, often have racing thoughts going through my mind of all I have to or have decided I need to do/accomplish. But, what would happen if I didn't? What if I put something aside? How would that feel? I'd like to find out.

I wonder what my acting teacher will have in store next class?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chilling 'n Clearing -- by Robin

I have never been a napper. My dad does it. A friend of mine swears by it. But, it's not my thing.

I'm not particularly good at relaxing. Never have been.

But, the other day, I spontaneously gave into my desire to chill.

I put on the television one late afternoon and watched a movie on cable. I laid on the living room couch with a bottle of water, and gave myself permission just to watch in the dark. It was peaceful, spontaneous, and I loved it.

Back in my single days, I'd often spend part of a Saturday practicing self care. Hitting the gym. Doing my nails. Reading the paper. Watching a good movie.

Since becoming a mom, weekends are no longer my own. So, if it's alone time I seek, a weekday when Seth is in school is it. But, how to give yourself permission to take a break from work (I work from home) and other chores and errands? And, if you do give yourself a breather, how to do it without the guilt? What's the point if you can't totally relish it without thoughts racing through your head of what you could or should be doing instead?!

Sometimes I think about the different phases of life and how much things change. Life doesn't stand still for anyone, especially a multi-tasking mom. Just look at how fast our kids grow up. My son is 6.5 already.

I was at my evening acting class Wednesday night, and when I came home, my husband told me that Seth (at bedtime), told him to promise to tell me that he loves and missed me (since I wasn't there to tuck him in). I was SO touched that I wanted to give him a big hug immediately, but he was sleeping. I know the day will come as he gets older when he'll need me less and less, so I treasure comments like that. Yet, at the same time, I was grateful for the time away at my class that I am enjoying.

Motherhood can be such a conflict at times, can't it?! We are truly challenged to do so much in a given day....yet we (I) fight to hold on to personal and professional aspirations despite the many demands of life.

The key is to find happiness in the everyday and not let your to do list overwhelm. I have felt quite overwhelmed due to our basement project and all that has come with it in terms of organizing the house, purging, donating, etc. Tomorrow my cleaning woman comes to help with some of it. I thought it would be beneficial to bring her in since she does not have the emotional attachment I have to things. And, she'll help move us along in her chipper way. She loves to clear and get things in order. I love the end result, but truly despise the process. When things are out of order and feeling really cluttered, the negative energy permeates the house and my mind, and it's easy to feel stifled. A major clearing is in order here, and we'll get there day by day. I have to muster the patience and keep the faith to know it will happen.

Tonite I am attending a workshop in NYC about how to live more simply. I'm curious to see what tips they have to offer. For me, I feel like it's easier said than done, but I'd like to learn and at least make an attempt at it.

I won't be home to read Seth a bedtime story or lay with him. I will miss that. But, if this class can shed constructive light in a way I can apply to my/our lives, Seth will ultimately be glad I attended. And Marc too. We'll all reap the benefits.

The Disillusionment of Halloween -- by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is Yelling the New Spanking? by Cara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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