Motherhood Later...Than Sooner Blog - for Moms 35 and over...

Look at me - I'm Homer Simpson!

noreply@blogger.com (Joanna Brody) — Thu, 08 May 2008 22:15:00 +0000

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

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

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

Pat Benatar, Concert for KIDS?

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Ellen Walsh) — Thu, 08 May 2008 20:12:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Communal Germs

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Fri, 02 May 2008 16:15:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have you ever had this experience?

Thelma and Louise and Me

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 15:47:00 +0000

Ever see the movie Thelma and Louise?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The New Party Invitation

noreply@blogger.com (Joanna Brody) — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 19:09:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

The Magic of Six

noreply@blogger.com (Joanna Brody) — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 22:33:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Going Back to Work (3)

noreply@blogger.com (Sang-Hee) — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 22:12:00 +0000

I went back to work this week.

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

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

Pop-Tarts and menopause

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Ellen Walsh) — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 14:24:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Help. Any advice?

Keeping Up with the Mother Joneses

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 21:21:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Potato Chip Syndrome

noreply@blogger.com (Joanna Brody) — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 21:16:00 +0000

This past Friday, my husband and I ended up with an unexpected night off from our children. I had taken them to my mother's house for the day, escaping some loud and dirty construction work going on at our house. My son Joey refused to take a nap at Nana's (too much fun to be had?!?) and therefore missed both of his daily naps. By 6 pm, I was ready to head home, feed my son dinner, and put them both to bed earlier than usual, hoping he'd catch up on some sleep. Then my husband called and implored me to stay away as long as possible while he cleaned up the construction mess inside the house before I returned with the children. So I stayed for dinner.

By 8 pm Joey was so exhausted he could hardly keep his eyes open so we put him down there again, and after just a few minutes of protest, was out like a light. My mom suggested he spend the night, and then ever so kindly offered to keep my daughter overnight as well. My son is sleeping through the night. My daughter is not. So after reminding my mother three times that my daughter was not sleeping through the night, and in fact pretty much woke up at 4 am like clockwork, she still agreed to keep both kids for a sleepover. By that time it was 9:30 pm. I headed home sans children. But because our night off was unplanned, there was little time for my husband and I to do anything other than go to bed, thoroughly exhausted but thrilled at the prospect of a full night's sleep.

Guess what happened...at 4 am straight up, I woke up. After I looked at the clock, I said to myself, "I bet Lyra is up." My husband woke up as well, conditioned as we were. We both simultaneously commented to each other how tired we were. It was in that moment that I realized this night off from our children was like a potato chip. You either wanted none at all, or a lot more than one. Getting none at all kept you from tasting the salty, crunchy, greasy delicious temptation that are potato chips - or full nights' sleeps. Getting only one left you desperate for more. I think the worst part was having this realization at 4 am, which pretty much ruined the rest of our night's sleep.

And by the way, Lyra did in fact get up at 4 am. That made me feel good that I was that tuned in to my daughter. Now if only I can get her tuned in to me to sleep just a bit later in the morning, and I could have just a few more potato chips.

Is This What 40 Something Is?

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 14:47:00 +0000

I've blogged about my fibroids. I've written about my erratic sleeping patterns, I think due in part to hormones. A couple of months ago, I hurt the rotator cuff on my right arm....I believe due to lifting Seth under that arm. And, it's still not 100 percent. I didn't even know what a rotator cuff is. Now I'm all too aware.

As if my health isn't enough of an open book, I'm going to share the latest. I just found out I have tiny gallstones. And, the gastro doc I saw right away said I should see a surgeon. I totally balked and immediately emailed my integrative doctor and starting researching on the web. He faxed to me a liver/gall bladder flush which patients have had success with when the stones are small. Mine are described as "tiny," so I'm hoping this does the trick. I'm only mildly symptomatic at this point.

I figured I just had to drink some olive oil and lemon juice as a friend suggested. But, no, this is much more involved, including the use of coffee, berries, heavy whipped creme, etc. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, this is not going to be a walk in the park. Thankfully I don't have to drink the coffee....but I'm dreading this whole procedure. And, how do you know if it works? The instructions said that if you feel nauseous during the night, that's a good thing. We want to achieve that result, it stated. Terrific! Another reason not to sleep.

I'll do it. I'm a trooper. And, this is WAY better than surgery, even laproscopic.

I had a chat with my trainer at the gym about this, who in addition to working my body, has become like a mom figure/therapist/friend. Sometimes we yak more about life stuff and the exercise lags behind, but it's always comforting since she is well read on health matters and loves to share.

This past week she confided in me that I should get used to this kind of stuff. That once you hit 40 (not that she or I want to depress you), according to her, your body changes and things happen, however minor. But, it takes adjustment, and ultimately acceptance...and letting go of control if we ever thought we had it. This isn't easy for me to swallow. I'd rather swallow tons of supplements, than this notion.

I'm hearing this from others too. A friend I recently had dinner with said she has a couple of herniated discs and is now seeing a chiropractor. Another gal I know in her 40s just had hip replacement. And, people are buying reading glasses, taking MSM pills for aches, etc.

Granted, luckily, none of this is serious in the scheme of things. But, as one mom said to me, it's amazing, because when she was younger, her biggest health concern was an occasional cold. And, now she's living in a body she doesn't fully recognize.

At a time when we need self care the most, it's so hard to get it when mothering requires major time and effort.

I guess going with the flow is the best attitude, and being grateful for our bodies, despite newfound developments.

Anyone else finding 40+ a time for bodily changes?

Going Back to Work (2)

noreply@blogger.com (Sang-Hee) — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 21:02:00 +0000

Ten days until I return to work. And I continue to address my anxieties.

One major problem has been solved: we found a babysitter. She came for the interview, and we knew that we found the one. We checked her references; all enjoyed long-term relationships with her (17 years and nine years), retaining her for house-cleaning once the babysitting years were over. But she wanted to take care of babies rather than to clean houses. We decided to give it a go.

The first day she came to babysit, our daughter was happy with her all day long, playing, sleeping, and eating on schedule. We were so happy for having found such a perfect match. Then the second day came with a surprising turnabout: our daughter shrieked and wailed from the moment I handed her to the babysitter. After 30 minutes, I left the house, my heart broken and trampled by powerful emotions of guilt, sadness, and desire to hold her, even though I knew in my mind that everything would be alright. When I returned home after a couple of hours, I found the house bubbling with gentle singing. Our daughter calmed down after an hour, I was told.

Today is the second day with the babysitter. This time, after 30 minutes of shrieking and wailing, the babysitter took our daughter out for a walk. They came back, calm and happy.

Maybe our daughter thinks shrieking and wailing is the way to greet someone?

No, I should be honest with myself. She must be reflecting my own set of emotions: anxiety (of entrusting her care to someone else), sadness (of not hanging out with her), and fear (believe it or not, what if our daughter becomes more attached to the babysitter?).

Perhaps a change in my attitude is the answer to a smooth transition. I'll try that next time.

The Green-Eyed Monster

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 17:44:00 +0000

I'm jealous. And, I'm sorry for how I feel, but at times, I can't help it. I'm being brutally honest.

I'm deeply envious of those moms who still have their parents and have a close relationship with them. They are SO lucky, and I feel the loss.

My mom passed away 10 years ago, and as I think I've mentioned in previous blogs, she never met my son. I try super hard not to dwell on this, but clearly it has left a wound for me. I adored my mom, and nothing would have made her more happy than seeing me become a mom. I would have liked to make her proud, and while I know her spirit is with me, Seth did not meet her. I tell him about her and he's seen photos, but for sure, it's not the same.

I broach this subject because a mom friend of mine emailed me today that she is going to Europe with her husband for a family function. I asked if her two kids are going? She said, no, they would remain at home with her folks, who would stay at her house while they are away.

I found myself emailing her back and writing You are SO fortunate to have them.

While the last thing I aim to do is put myself on a soap box about this subject, there is a little voice inside me that often feels compelled to scream to other moms "Cherish your mom. Appreciate her. Let her know how you feel. Flaws and all."

My mom wasn't perfect. What is perfect? But she was MY mom, and that was all that mattered. I love my dad big time, but he's different than her.

What a treat for kids to spend time with their grandparents, especially if they live close and can visit regularly...and want to be there. And, how great for a couple to have the opportunity to get away and know that their children are in top notch hands, and that it is a special bonding experience for all involved.

I would have so welcomed that. As a 40 something mom, I recognize that if I had become a mom earlier in life, my own mom would have lived to see it. But, everything happens, I do believe, as it is meant to. I don't live in regret. We wouldn't have Seth if things had played out differently.

It just pains me at times when I hear people complaining about their well-meaning mother. I respect that people have differences. But, for example, another mom I know says that her mother spoils her child by buying him so many toys, for no occasion.

While I understand the concept of toy overload (we have that in my home)....in the scheme of things, that would be a nice problem to have. That you mom relishes your child so much that she can't do enough for them. And, perhaps she has wisdom to share. I find myself often quoting my mom and recalling what she would likely say, if I'm having an off day.

So....to all the moms out there who still have their mom....enjoy!!!

Instant Family

noreply@blogger.com (Joanna Brody) — Sat, 15 Mar 2008 21:46:00 +0000

Greetings. My name is Joanna Brody. One year ago I could not imagine writing a blog (what do I have to say?) let alone on a site for "later in life" mothers. Yet here I am today, 44, the mother of two, sharing my life and thoughts, tribulations and triumphs, with a group of women whom I can now call my sisters.

I have two children, Joey, exactly 10 months old today, and Lyra, who turned four months old last week. Yes, two children under the age of one- and no, not twins, and no, not fertility. One achieved through the miracle of adoption and one achieved through some miracle beyond medical science. My son's birthmother is half Filipina, which is what my husband it. And my daughter was conceived quite unexpectedly, and even more unexpectedly, carried to term after I had four miscarriages in the four years prior. So two beautiful one quarter Filipino children, both of whom I am now convinced were destined to be with us and vice versa. All of this after I decided, and convinced my husband, that I was quite content to be child free. Hah!

In addition to our children, we have two gigantic, magnificent French sheepdogs, Hobbes & Kali (a puppy to add to the mix), who truly are fur children to us. Plus we just finished building and moved into a new home (my son has lived in four places since he was born - the place we lived in while we built our house, my parents' house, the rental unit on our new property, and finally, our new home). It's been quite a year.

I have now returned to work as a public relations consultant, so am doing the working mom thing. Working is easy, motherhood is hard, being a working mom (especially after pregnancy brain) is a heroic endeavor. But I know millions of women do it selflessly with grace and modesty every day, and I am proud to be just one in a million plus. By the way, has anyone ever thought that the advice "sleep when they sleep" is the lamest advice ever - especially for a working mom?!?!

How did that happen?

noreply@blogger.com (Maureen) — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 16:47:00 +0000

A little hello from the wild west in Prescott, Arizona. My name is Maureen VanWalleghan and Robin invited me to do some blogging here at Motherhood Later Than Sooner... I am a wee bit nervous...even though I am a writer there is something quite amazing to be living in a time when one's words with the push of a button are available to anyone with the internet. Probably my age is showing, like a slip under a too small skirt. I have a feeling that as a blogger and mom this happens quite alot.

A bit about myself. I have a two and half year old daughter (H.) and have been married for three years. I came to the babymaking scene late. I had my daughter at 41 almost 42. I was somewhat surprised to find myself pregnant with my then boyfriend since I didn't actually think I could get pregnant. Since I had always wanted to be a mom I decided to jump into marriage and go for it. Wow...what a shock to the system it has been. Before I met my husband I had been living a single life (for about ten years) in New York City as a graphic designer, then gallerist and finally high school English teacher. I had a dog (my longest relationship to date). When I met my husband I had settled in rural Arizona with a little house I bought on five acres next to my mom's ten acres. I was teaching and I still had my dog.

Take a big breath here...I feel like I went from a power babe to a dish washing slave. Life as a wife and mom is all about cleaning. Who knew? My single life and careers did not prepare me for the reality of homemaking. And I've watched way too many light romantic comedies to have an real sense of marriage. Don't get me wrong, I am, on some particular days, very happy with my life, but the cleaning has reduced me to an invisiblity that has been difficult to overcome emotionally. I think the issue at hand is feeling like my power as a human is nill because I am not a major income earner as I was before marriage and baby. If one considers that for 25 years I have been defined by my work and by proxy my paycheck, not having much of either has been a blow to my ego and myself esteem that I am only now beginning to understand.

Of course, I should qualify myself by saying that a year ago I did finish my MFA in creative writing with the support and help of both my husband and my mom. And I am looking at beginning a year-long certificate program in filmmaking in the fall. Both of which are personal dreams that I have wanted to pursue for sometime. But it's the line "the days are long and the years are short" from the book MoJo Mom that best describes what I feel for the important but totally invisible work of homemaking.

Homemaking, a huge topic, is on the brain and so I'll save that for next time...

Back in the Dark Ages

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 21:08:00 +0000

Had a frustrating day today.

Came off a nice weekend and had hoped for a good chunk of productivity before Seth returned from pre-K today.

Well...you've no doubt heard the expression....we make our plans, and G-d makes his. Today was one of those days.

I was in the kitchen just about done heating up my lunch, thankfully, when everything blew. All power got zapped in the house. This is our second electrical outage in two weeks. WAY too many by my standards!

As a work-at-home mom, this threw my whole day out of whack. As someone who relies heavily on computer usage, particularly email, I was no longer in constant communication (maybe this is a good thing?!). I could still access email on my Treo phone, but it's not the same as having my lap top.

Luckily the phones still worked. And, it got me thinking. In a way, I felt like I was living back in the dark ages, and it made me uneasy.

What did we do before computers? We relied on phones, and there is something to be said for that.

As a 40 something mom, I did not grow up with computers. It is different for Seth. While just 5, he already knows how to operate my computer on a basic level. It's truly amazing. It is quite second nature to him.

I was speaking with another mom on the phone today, and she said I should just go with the flow. Perhaps the universe was trying to tell me something? Was this meant to be an afternoon for me to chill? To tame some of my workaholic tendencies? Maybe. But, instead it just led to immense frustration. I have never been good about turning off my work ethic.

Seth played nicely and managed to cope without his after school television fix. I was glad to see that. There is a time when families years ago didn't have tv, and they survived. Families were happy, and children thrived.

Do we have too much technology these days? I don't know...but I do know that life seems more complicated....or perhaps involved.

Does it feel that way to you?

Going Back to Work (1)

noreply@blogger.com (Sang-Hee) — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 17:46:00 +0000

I'm going back to work within a month. It's been ten months. On the last day of work (early June 2007), I was four months pregnant. This April, I will be back at work, with a four-month-old baby. Moments during these blissful days of hanging out with my daughter, I am experiencing anxiety on several levels.

First of all, the babysitter search. So far, only family members took care of the baby, with me as the primary caregiver. I was rarely away from the baby, and during those times she was taken care of by her father or her grandparents. We are now looking for someone to care for our baby for eight hours a day, two days a week, while both parents are away from home.

We will interview candidates, observe how they are with the baby, check their references, try them out, and pay attention to our gut feeling. After going through a rational and reasonable selection process, I know that we will have done our best to ensure a good care for our baby. Surely, many parents develop great relationships with reliable and loving caregivers. Surely, some who are not happy with their babysitters/nannies reach an amicable resolution and move on without any deep psychological scars. It is quite unlikely that any of the nanny stories that make it to the headlines (some horrific, some juicy) will happen to us. We will be all right.

I know all this. Then why does my heart drop at the thought of handing her over and heading out the door for the day? What can I do to reach that calm, peaceful spot?

Under the Weather

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 22:54:00 +0000

I hate to be a complainer, but here goes anyway. So, please forgive me if I sound like a broken record....but what does it take to keep yourself well as a mom?

I found out yesterday I have strep throat, and this time, I caught it from our nanny. Now, don't get me wrong. I am grateful to have a nanny, but unfortunately, she isn't great about taking care of herself, and I'm often walking around the house spraying Lysol. But, this time, it didn't work, so now I'm on antibiotic, and feeling rotten.

This caps off an already super sickly season at our home, including colds, pink eye and the stomach flu. I can't even think of the last time we have all been totally well. And, we take vitamins.

Someone said to me that it's because the weather in NY hasn't been consistently cold, enabling germs and various viral strains to circulate freely. I, personally, have no clue....but I am tired of being ill....and I'm not a fan of antibiotics. I stocked up on the yogurt, which I was told is advisable to offset the effect of antibiotics. I can't each much anyway since it's hard to swallow, so this is ideal.

The doctor said try to rest and drink a lot. Sounds good....but rest with a five year old and a husband tied up with tax season? Is he going to come to my house and play with my son?!

So now I'm trying to keep a distance from Seth and Marc, and am washing my hands constantly. I've explained to Seth over and over again that I can't come close to him. And, it's hard. I miss his hugs. But, the last thing I'd want is for him to get strep. Wow....is it painful!!

I was supposed to go to Seth's school this week and bring cupcakes to celebrate his 5th birthday, but that had to be rescheduled.

Being 40 something raging hormone mom, it's hard enough to feel 100 percent. That's a whole other story, and I've blogged about that before.

All I can say is that if the weather is a contributing factor to all this sickness, then bring on spring. I await it with open arms.

One Hundred Days

noreply@blogger.com (Sang-Hee) — Mon, 25 Feb 2008 23:14:00 +0000

It's been one hundred days (and some) since our daughter was born last November. According to Korean tradition, a baby's birth is celebrated only after 100 days. Until then, people did not openly celebrate nor even acknowledge the birth, for fear of triggering the jealousy and wrath of a particular goddess in charge of babies. For 100 days, the baby and the mother are confined indoors.

Of course, we being westernized and all, took the baby out to the public after 6 weeks with an okay from her pediatrician and an okay from my OB. Where did we go? To K-Town, of course. Complete strangers (almost always older Korean women) ooh'ed and aah'ed at our baby, while not hesitating to opine:
"What a cute baby!!"
"Thank you."
"How old?"
"Six weeks." Or "Two months." Or "Two-and-a-half months."
"You mean the baby is not yet 100 days?"
This was then followed by a quick, closing remark such as "I guess times are different." "What has the world come to?" "You must be very healthy, like an American woman."

Last weekend was sweet. During our weekly K-Town trip, I had several chances to reply with my head up high, "She passed her 100 days!"

Loveseat Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Ellen Walsh) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 22:02:00 +0000

It was the first piece of furniture my husband and I ever bought together—a loveseat and matching sofa pullout bed. Made of heavy burlap sack material, in thick striped beige and navy blue design with detachable back cushions (that I later would hate picking up off the floor incessantly), over sized armrests, the seat cushion accommodated my 6’ 1” husband’s leg span comfortably.

Tom and I had been together two years—one dating and one engaged and were moving into an apartment in Forest Hills, New York. We were nervous-$1,100 total for the set. Until then, the only other large purchase we had made in the thousands was my engagement ring and deposits for our Long Island wedding.

The salesman at Sofa Bed World in Farmingdale convinced us...“virtually in-destructable, scotchguarded for rugged durability—colors will match anything—throughout life. Your kids will take ‘em to college with them.”

Kids. We grinned sheepishly at each other and plunked down the credit card and went out for celebratory ice cream, marveling at how compatible our taste in furniture or, now looking back, lack thereof was.

The delivery guys came to our Forest Hills apartment and we prayed as they shoved the sofa bed into the 1920s black grated elevator on up to the 3rd floor, pulling, grunting and cursing to get both couches down the narrow hallway. The next year we lovingly wrapped them in plastic, moved into our first home and five years later trudged them to this, our second house.

Many a day was spent with my children tucked in bouncy seats nestled in its fabric and later sprawling arm and leg limbs climbed up and over the couch as they grew. Fights broke out over who would sleep on the loveseat during Saturday night “den” slumber parties.

Then last night Robert was sick with the stomach virus and barfed up his dinner all over the loveseat that now has a major hole in the springs where shoes or toys lodged and went missing for days. It was really on its last leg and this virtually indestructible couch met its match in 9-year-old Robert.

We cleaned it off and brought the couch to the street for the garbage men. The girls cried a dirge in unison. “Our Couch!” Tom hung his head waxing poetic sentiments about many Monday night football games spent eating chicken wings on “his” couch.

I felt the winds of change blowing. It’s a new phase in our family’s life cycle. We have begun to grow, outlasting the first go around of indestructible, crappy furniture. Time to redecorate!

This morning, Robert felt much better and I gave him a high-five saying, “Next time, throw up all over the cheap Persian carpet—maybe we’ll get a real one.”

Needless to say, we’re all trying to avoid the stomach virus. Stay well.

The Half Day Deal

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 20:22:00 +0000

I ask you....what is the deal with a half day in kindergarten?

Seth starts this coming fall, and he will have either two or three days when he only goes for three hours. He is in pre-K now, and goes for five hours.

We are not happy about this.

He will be going to a different school, come fall, and unless we want to send him to a private school, this is the way it will be.

He's been in nursery and now pre-K from 9AM - 2PM since he turned 3.5, and it's been really good for him. He's learning, socializing, growing, etc....in ways that I have to imagine he wouldn't were he home during those hours. Although, when I was a kid, I didn't go to nursery school, and I turned out "ok" (I think). So, no doubt, there are different schools of thought.

But to go from more to less doesn't make a lot of sense to me. And, this isn't true of all school districts. We live in Great Neck, NY, and it's the case here.

So, now we're trying to figure out what to do with Seth when he gets home early those days. We can sign him up for individual programs elsewhere, i.e. gym, but it won't be the same continuity he'd have in a full day school program.

I'm just somewhat perplexed as to why the school here is set up this way.

How is it where you live? And, what is your feeling on full day kindergarten?

Just needed to vent............thanks for listening. :)

A Family That Poops Together

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 02:28:00 +0000

I am so thrilled and proud to annnouce...and just in the knick of time....Seth is now regularly pooping in the potty. And, not a moment too soon!!

This past week, we have all taken turns running to our respective bathrooms. Luckily, we have two, and Marc isn't home during the day.

We got hit with the most nasty stomach virus. You've probably either heard of it, or experienced it by now. It's taking families by storm, and hits you like a ton of bricks if you get it.

I was actually laid up in bed one day last week and wound up cancelling a gym apppointment, which I hate to do. I must admit, this is one way to start a diet, since you can barely eat. But, who wants to be sick to lose weight.

Tonight we ventured out to the diner, thinking we were all relatively on the mend. If we ate lightly, we'd be okay, we presumed. Well, it hit me like a tons of bricks yet again, once we got home.

Thankfully, we have plenty of saltines, ginger ale and Gatorade in the house, from last week, so we're well stocked. But, when is this going to be over? Seth's pediatrician warned that even if you think it's done, it might not be. She's seen alot of relapses....terrific!!

Crossing my fingers this will be a better week.

I don't know about you....but this winter has been so sickly for our family. Nothing serious to speak of, but still, it's quite the challenge to keep us all well.

Hope your family is having better luck. And, if not, at least you know you're not alone.

GUEST BLOG: A Grandmother's Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (Robin Gorman Newman) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 00:58:00 +0000

THIS IS A SPECIAL GUEST BLOG BY A GRANDMOM, Rochelle Jewel Shapiro, author, "Miriam the Medium" (Simon & Schuster). Your comments to this blog are welcome, and may be posted below.

As hard as it is for a woman to admit she’s growing older, it seems even harder for a daughter to admit her mother is getting on in years. Last week, I took the train upstate to my daughter’s at a time of revolution. Her daughter, who had thought kindly of her baby brother when he was sedately swaddled, suddenly was faced with a sibling who crawled at top speed, knocking over her blocks, sticking her doll house figurines in his mouth. She now wanted to (and almost did) ring his neck. My daughter, holding her daughter back, called out “Get him, Mom,” as her son scooted under a computer table to yank the wires, as if I am still the young woman once again who could scoop up her ashy little brother from the fireplace. I did get him. I did everything that was needed and came home with vivid memories of snuggling my granddaughter, seeing my grandson’s gummy smile as I tickled his belly. But, although I didn’t tell my daughter, I also came home to Ace Bandages and heat packs and bed rest. My daughter loves me. She tells me so each time we talk. I can see it in the light in her eyes when she looks at me. If I bring up my physical limitations, it would be like bringing up the topic of my mortality. As grown up as she is, she’s still my child. So, even though I haven’t yet had the courage to broach this with my daughter, I want to share it with all of you. Perhaps I’m practicing for the next conversation I have with her.

The Tooth Fairy’s getting older!

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Ellen Walsh) — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 16:43:00 +0000

My little one Melanie lost her first tooth the other day. It was a monumental right-of-passage moment in our family being that she is the youngest and last to go through everything. First there was crying because now she’d look different which then gave way to sheer excitement about the Tooth Fairy. We discussed the benevolence of said Fairy, how she gets in the house and if she had red or blonde hair. Was she in fact the same Tooth Fairy mommy and daddy had as kids? I told Melanie about the day when she was six months old and we discovered that tooth newly broken through her swollen gums.

Kelly, older and wiser at eight, reminded Melanie that she was lucky because it was Tuesday and the Tooth Fairy doesn’t come on Sundays or Mondays. Apparently I had missed one or two teeth-retrieving nights along the way and we gave poor Kelly a lame excuse that those were the Fairy’s nights off.

Melanie and I wrote a note on pretty paper, carefully put the tiny root-less baby tooth in a Ziplock bag and tucked it under her pillow. After a very hectic day and a glass of wine with dinner, I was exhausted and fell asleep early.

The next morning Melanie came running down the stairs into the living room where I was drinking my morning coffee and thumbing through the newspaper. She held up a fistful of coins and paper money and shrieked, “Mommy, Mommy the Tooth Fairy came. LOOK.”

SH_ _ SUGAR. I forgot. But…how? I was truly shocked opening my eyes and blinking to see clearly. For a split second I felt like the movie Peter Pan where everyone chants: I do believe in Fairies. I do. I do. Then my husband came upstairs from the den with a wide grin on his face.

“How much money did you get Melanie?” he asked. They counted out $3.68. Oh Thank God for him because this dunderhead mother fell asleep and forgot. I’m glad we didn’t have to cross out yet another day off the Tooth Fairy’s rounds.

That night eating dinner, I bit into a soft veggie burger and cracked off a piece of my back molar. It didn’t hurt and although grateful that I didn’t swallow it, I was horrified that I’m like an old woman losing teeth and next thing I’ll be sprouting stray hairs out of my chin. It is a weird feeling to lose your tooth or a piece of one. I understood why Melanie cried. I’m not happy that now they’ll have to yank out the filling that’s exposed and maybe even the rest of the tooth with it. I’m sure I’ll need root canal or a crown—expensive—which let’s face it who wants to spend on TEETH—let alone on me, mommy. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had been to the dentist. I think it was five years ago to fill this cavity that hurt over the years, but I ignored. It was just another thunk on the head in a long list of mommy not taking care of herself and my things that get put on the back burner.

The kids coaxed me to put it under my pillow and said I would definitely get money for even a quarter of a tooth, because “Mommy your teeth are way bigger.” Tom winked reassuringly at me. I couldn’t help but notice that the Tooth Fairy struck an uncanny resemblance to Santa Claus only with wings and a wand.

When’s the last time the Tooth Fairy visited your house or that you’ve been to the dentist for yourself?