While waiting for my appointment time at the hair salon the other day, I decided to catch up on my tabloid reading. I was captivated by the story of Elizabeth Edwards, who recently died after battling breast cancer for many years. You may know of her--she was the wife of presidential hopeful John Edwards. The story of Elizabeth Edwards is a true testament to the resilience of women and the roles we play as mother and wife. It is also the story of the importance and power of female friendship as we navigate the tough and lonely waters of motherhood.
Her life wasn’t an easy one. As the child of a father in the military, she often moved from place to place. She met John Edwards while they were both in law school. The married but didn’t have much money in their early years so their first anniversary was spent at a Wendy’s. It was a tradition they continued for each anniversary thereafter. They eventually bore two children. Life was good as John climbed the political ladder. However, tragedy struck their marriage when their son Wade was killed in a car accident when he was only 16. It was a pain that Elizabeth would never shake. She said that it was as if a part of her died with him. In one of her books, she claims that it was the bond of her woman friends who got her and the family through those tough times after the death. It was the power of her friendships that got her out of bed each day during the months and years following Wade’s tragic death.
Eventually, life moved forward. She and John bore two more children. However, she soon found out she had breast cancer during his drive to be president. She bore the illness quietly so as not to get in the way of his campaign. She cheerfully accompanied him to campaign activities, supporting him lovingly along the way even though she battled cancer. How many times have we had to support our spouse at the expense of our health or our individuality? How many of us have given up our careers so that our spouse could advance his? Motherhood means tough choices. We often sacrifice our needs and goals for the love of our family. We are happy to do
it. It is a labor of love.
As if she hadn’t had enough tragedy, she then discovered that her husband of over 30 years was having an affair and had probably borne a child with his lover. This infidelity most probably took place during the year she was going through chemotherapy. Yet, Elizabeth hung on like all of us good wives and mothers do, supporting her family at the expense of herself. Imagine what it was like to be sick with cancer only to find out that your husband had not been faithful. Many of us would just give up. Elizabeth kept going.
Time and time again when interviewed on how she could stay so resilient through so much tragedy, Elizabeth said it was the love and support of her friends that kept her strong.
I know that I could not have gotten this far in life without the love and support from women friends. Only another mom can really know how tough this job really is. Many of us live far from our own mothers or maybe our moms are no longer with us. When you become a member of Mothers & More, you can tap into that wealth of care and concern that comes from reaching out to other moms going through the same challenges you are. We all have bad times in our lives but the members of our chapter are there when we need a helping hand. Whether you are visiting a meeting or have been a member for many years, M&M is there to support you so you can be the best person you can be for your family. It gives you the energy and drive to keep doing what can often be a thankless job.
I get tears in my eyes when I am at a M&M meeting and I hear people sharing the stories of their lives with other members because I am so grateful that we have a group that can support the role of motherhood. I wonder how many “Elizabeths” our group has helped through the years. Our group is very special and worth every dollar of membership you pay to be part of it.
I pray that none of us will ever have to go through even one of the tragedies poor Elizabeth had to in her short 60 years. But, if we do, I know we can take comfort in knowing that our Mothers & More group and all of its wonderful members will be there to cook a meal or lend a helping hand or a listening ear to get us through those tough times of being a wife and mom.
In the new year, I raise a glass to all my fellow moms and cheer for you and thank you for being you! Thank you for all the tears you have wiped for your kids. Thank you for supporting your husband when you wanted to scream. Thank you for all the things you do each day that seem to go unnoticed. Thank you for moving forward each day even when you wanted to stay in bed and cry. We fellow moms cheer you on and support you. We notice all the little things you do because we are doing them too.
--Chris
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A walk in my slippers
Two of my favorite movies are “Freaky Friday” and “Trading Places.” Both have the similar theme of two people switching places with one another and, in the end, coming to have more empathy for the life each of them leads. I believe strongly that this is the most powerful way to have empathy for another person’s life and what he or she must go through. There is even an old Native American saying about not judging someone until you have “walked in their moccasins.” I now amend that to tell you a story of how my spouse got to walk four months in “my slippers.”
The bad economy afforded me the chance to trade places with my spouse when he lost his job in September 2009. At the time, I was working out of my house as a consultant, but not on a full-time basis. He had been the breadwinner and I had been the caretaker of the house. We carried on jobless for a while, living off of savings and severance payments. But, his job hunt wasn’t going well. With each rejection letter, it became apparent that I would have to also look for a job to double our chances of finding employment. We decided that whoever got the job first became the breadwinner and the other stayed home with our kids. I am sure Tony never expected I would get a job first.
As fate would have it, I did land a job first. Maybe it was fate, but I do like to think it was because of my education and background. It was a great boost to my ego that I was employable after not being in the corporate world for many years. I had fun wearing a suit again. My company equipped me with a Blackberry and a laptop so I could be connected to clients 24/7. I looked like the true executive and felt like the mom in “Mr. Mom.”
The thrill soon wore off. Instead of my husband going off on business trips, I was. I also was the one who started working the late hours as he once had. He got to feeling lonely and forgotten, just as I had once felt when he was traveling or working 10-hour days. I started to miss many good moments with my family because I was at work. When I did get home, I was too tired to be patient or to do any of the things kids want a mom to do with them.
Looking at how bedraggled Tony was starting to look, I thought back to the days when I was the one in charge of the children and the house. I shuddered as I thought about how impatient I was with him when he’d announce the night before that he had to fly somewhere for the day and wouldn’t be back until late in the night. Those days seemed so long without him. I wasn’t always happy with him when dinner lay cold on the table as he toiled away at work to meet a deadline. I didn’t have the empathy or understanding for the “pressures at work” that he had to deal with. He would tell me a million times how difficult he had it, but until I went through it myself, I didn’t understand. When I should have been supportive, I just added to his pressure. Maybe I thought he was having fun with all those cool adults. Now I realized I was wrong.
While being in “his Allen Edmonds,” I got to see that the adults aren’t much fun. The long hours make you feel old and tired. The work is just work. It isn’t fulfilling like it is when you are there to see your child’s first step or hear him read his first word. There isn’t anyone to run up, hug you, cover your face with kisses and tell you how much they love you when they can tell you are having a bad morning. It is demanding and harsh at times in the work world. You can put in thousands of hours and it just is never enough. There are useless meetings and decisions made that make no sense. There are people with big egos and nice people who get the brunt of it.
I did feel like an outsider looking in wanting to change things. When you stay home, you are in charge of your own little world. You aren’t stuck in a colorless, windowless cubicle. It is a big adjustment to become a “cog in the wheel.” I really began to miss the warm love of my kids and my sunny, bright house full of windows. Often I would leave before they were awake and return and they were already asleep. I was missing their lives.
The world of staying home wasn’t much fun for my husband. He was one of the only stay-at-home dads in the clan I hang out with. He tried his best to fit in, but he just couldn’t contribute much to the group. In reality, he missed the deadlines, the long hours and the pressure. He wasn’t so good at being patient or setting up a play date. He would look longingly at me as I left for work and I would look jealously back at him for getting to be with our kids.
Recently, he did find a job. I am still working but I no longer feel the pressure of being the sole breadwinner. Our youngest is in school so we are both able to work. So, now we are working out the kinks of being two working parents with kids. Society just isn’t at a place where working parents are supported. At many firms, it still isn’t accepted for a man to leave early to take his kids to the doctor or to a school event. Luckily, the company I work for is very flexible. The reality is that parents who want to be dedicated to their families often get passed by for promotions and better work assignments because they are perceived as not being as dedicated to the company as people who don’t try to have a work-life balance.
At the end of this four-month “turnabout,” we both feel a little more empathy for each other. We have more patience with one another. He feels thankful for the days he got to spend with our 5-year-old, watching him grow, and I am thankful that I have a better balance in my life.
--Chris
The bad economy afforded me the chance to trade places with my spouse when he lost his job in September 2009. At the time, I was working out of my house as a consultant, but not on a full-time basis. He had been the breadwinner and I had been the caretaker of the house. We carried on jobless for a while, living off of savings and severance payments. But, his job hunt wasn’t going well. With each rejection letter, it became apparent that I would have to also look for a job to double our chances of finding employment. We decided that whoever got the job first became the breadwinner and the other stayed home with our kids. I am sure Tony never expected I would get a job first.
As fate would have it, I did land a job first. Maybe it was fate, but I do like to think it was because of my education and background. It was a great boost to my ego that I was employable after not being in the corporate world for many years. I had fun wearing a suit again. My company equipped me with a Blackberry and a laptop so I could be connected to clients 24/7. I looked like the true executive and felt like the mom in “Mr. Mom.”
The thrill soon wore off. Instead of my husband going off on business trips, I was. I also was the one who started working the late hours as he once had. He got to feeling lonely and forgotten, just as I had once felt when he was traveling or working 10-hour days. I started to miss many good moments with my family because I was at work. When I did get home, I was too tired to be patient or to do any of the things kids want a mom to do with them.
Looking at how bedraggled Tony was starting to look, I thought back to the days when I was the one in charge of the children and the house. I shuddered as I thought about how impatient I was with him when he’d announce the night before that he had to fly somewhere for the day and wouldn’t be back until late in the night. Those days seemed so long without him. I wasn’t always happy with him when dinner lay cold on the table as he toiled away at work to meet a deadline. I didn’t have the empathy or understanding for the “pressures at work” that he had to deal with. He would tell me a million times how difficult he had it, but until I went through it myself, I didn’t understand. When I should have been supportive, I just added to his pressure. Maybe I thought he was having fun with all those cool adults. Now I realized I was wrong.
While being in “his Allen Edmonds,” I got to see that the adults aren’t much fun. The long hours make you feel old and tired. The work is just work. It isn’t fulfilling like it is when you are there to see your child’s first step or hear him read his first word. There isn’t anyone to run up, hug you, cover your face with kisses and tell you how much they love you when they can tell you are having a bad morning. It is demanding and harsh at times in the work world. You can put in thousands of hours and it just is never enough. There are useless meetings and decisions made that make no sense. There are people with big egos and nice people who get the brunt of it.
I did feel like an outsider looking in wanting to change things. When you stay home, you are in charge of your own little world. You aren’t stuck in a colorless, windowless cubicle. It is a big adjustment to become a “cog in the wheel.” I really began to miss the warm love of my kids and my sunny, bright house full of windows. Often I would leave before they were awake and return and they were already asleep. I was missing their lives.
The world of staying home wasn’t much fun for my husband. He was one of the only stay-at-home dads in the clan I hang out with. He tried his best to fit in, but he just couldn’t contribute much to the group. In reality, he missed the deadlines, the long hours and the pressure. He wasn’t so good at being patient or setting up a play date. He would look longingly at me as I left for work and I would look jealously back at him for getting to be with our kids.
Recently, he did find a job. I am still working but I no longer feel the pressure of being the sole breadwinner. Our youngest is in school so we are both able to work. So, now we are working out the kinks of being two working parents with kids. Society just isn’t at a place where working parents are supported. At many firms, it still isn’t accepted for a man to leave early to take his kids to the doctor or to a school event. Luckily, the company I work for is very flexible. The reality is that parents who want to be dedicated to their families often get passed by for promotions and better work assignments because they are perceived as not being as dedicated to the company as people who don’t try to have a work-life balance.
At the end of this four-month “turnabout,” we both feel a little more empathy for each other. We have more patience with one another. He feels thankful for the days he got to spend with our 5-year-old, watching him grow, and I am thankful that I have a better balance in my life.
--Chris
Sunday, November 7, 2010
In good company
Three years ago today, I gave birth to a stillborn baby boy at 20 weeks. My husband and I had found out less than a week beforehand that our son had no kidneys and would never live outside the womb. We made the heartwrenching decision to induce labor early. It was especially devastating for us because we had endured infertility before I became pregnant with this baby.
When I joined Mothers & More, I wasn’t sure how I would relate to other moms since for me, the path to motherhood had been long and painful. I assumed it hadn’t been painful for anyone else. How wrong I was. Not long after I joined the group, I dined with three other members and discovered that each of them had either experienced infertility, pregnancy loss or a combination of the two.
A while ago, one of our members sent out an e-mail asking for infertility clinic recommendations. She told me later she received dozens of recommendations from Mothers & More members. I was floored. I couldn’t believe how many of our members had either experienced infertility themselves, or were intimately acquainted with clinics because of family members or close friends.
For me, hearing all these stories has helped me feel less alone. So many of us have experienced challenges with building our family—or know someone who has. Historically, it’s often a taboo topic—or it just never comes up in conversation. Anyone who knows me is chuckling right now, because I often bring our family-building past up in conversations with new friends and acquaintances. I guess it’s partly because I feel like a person can’t really get to know me until he or she knows what my husband and I have been through. It was a life-changing experience for us. Thankfully, the historical taboo is changing and women are better able to bring up these heartbreaks and benefit from a community of support.
Even in an organization like Mothers & More, where nearly every member is a mother, women are still experiencing family-building challenges. I know members who are having difficulties conceiving their second or third children, or who are contemplating whether they want to go through the roller coaster of adoption again. And those are just the ones I know about. Who knows how many women in our organization—even the ones I think I know pretty well—are experiencing the pain of infertility or loss?
I am remembering my stillborn son Zach today. But I am also thinking about every other woman who knows what it is like to mourn a baby—or the lack thereof.
--Beth
When I joined Mothers & More, I wasn’t sure how I would relate to other moms since for me, the path to motherhood had been long and painful. I assumed it hadn’t been painful for anyone else. How wrong I was. Not long after I joined the group, I dined with three other members and discovered that each of them had either experienced infertility, pregnancy loss or a combination of the two.
A while ago, one of our members sent out an e-mail asking for infertility clinic recommendations. She told me later she received dozens of recommendations from Mothers & More members. I was floored. I couldn’t believe how many of our members had either experienced infertility themselves, or were intimately acquainted with clinics because of family members or close friends.
For me, hearing all these stories has helped me feel less alone. So many of us have experienced challenges with building our family—or know someone who has. Historically, it’s often a taboo topic—or it just never comes up in conversation. Anyone who knows me is chuckling right now, because I often bring our family-building past up in conversations with new friends and acquaintances. I guess it’s partly because I feel like a person can’t really get to know me until he or she knows what my husband and I have been through. It was a life-changing experience for us. Thankfully, the historical taboo is changing and women are better able to bring up these heartbreaks and benefit from a community of support.
Even in an organization like Mothers & More, where nearly every member is a mother, women are still experiencing family-building challenges. I know members who are having difficulties conceiving their second or third children, or who are contemplating whether they want to go through the roller coaster of adoption again. And those are just the ones I know about. Who knows how many women in our organization—even the ones I think I know pretty well—are experiencing the pain of infertility or loss?
I am remembering my stillborn son Zach today. But I am also thinking about every other woman who knows what it is like to mourn a baby—or the lack thereof.
--Beth
Saturday, October 9, 2010
A different kind of mothering
I was thrilled beyond belief this week to find out that two of my “kids” will be attending Homecoming together tonight.
No, you aren’t seeing things—the days of teenage-hood (is that a word?) are still far away for my household (seeing as Tyler is only 2). The young people to whom I refer are kids in my church’s high school youth group. My husband and I have served as youth leaders for nearly five years. That has been enough time to see many kids grow from gawky freshmen to mature young men and women.
And on some level, I really do consider these high school kids my children. I ache when they ache. When they express teenage angst on Facebook, I—like their parents—wish I could take away their pain. But alas, they have to learn about life through trial and error, just like I did.
The boy to whom I referred in the first paragraph is a high school senior who has never been to a school dance before. This year, however, his classmates unexpectedly nominated him to the Homecoming court, which meant he had to find a date. The girl he asked is a friend of the family and a fellow youth group member who attends a different school. From what their parents tell me, both are very excited. I wish I could be there to take pictures!
I have often referred to my youth work as an “escape” from motherhood. In reality, it’s just a different kind of motherhood. I have the opportunity to serve as mentor, rather than caretaker, and as friend, rather than the person on whom they depend.
My husband and I still keep up with previous high school youth through Facebook. I find the mother in me surfacing when I read about their exploits. Wow, she’s really going for the sexy look with those poses, isn’t she? He needs to watch his mouth! I have even started serving as a career mentor for a high school sophomore who wants to be a professional writer/communicator.
I love having a whole brood of teenage and young adult “children.” And I think they enjoy spending time with adults other than their parents. The experience really is fulfilling.
Are you a “mom” for any children other than your own? How does this impact your parenting decisions for your own children?
--Beth
No, you aren’t seeing things—the days of teenage-hood (is that a word?) are still far away for my household (seeing as Tyler is only 2). The young people to whom I refer are kids in my church’s high school youth group. My husband and I have served as youth leaders for nearly five years. That has been enough time to see many kids grow from gawky freshmen to mature young men and women.
And on some level, I really do consider these high school kids my children. I ache when they ache. When they express teenage angst on Facebook, I—like their parents—wish I could take away their pain. But alas, they have to learn about life through trial and error, just like I did.
The boy to whom I referred in the first paragraph is a high school senior who has never been to a school dance before. This year, however, his classmates unexpectedly nominated him to the Homecoming court, which meant he had to find a date. The girl he asked is a friend of the family and a fellow youth group member who attends a different school. From what their parents tell me, both are very excited. I wish I could be there to take pictures!
I have often referred to my youth work as an “escape” from motherhood. In reality, it’s just a different kind of motherhood. I have the opportunity to serve as mentor, rather than caretaker, and as friend, rather than the person on whom they depend.
My husband and I still keep up with previous high school youth through Facebook. I find the mother in me surfacing when I read about their exploits. Wow, she’s really going for the sexy look with those poses, isn’t she? He needs to watch his mouth! I have even started serving as a career mentor for a high school sophomore who wants to be a professional writer/communicator.
I love having a whole brood of teenage and young adult “children.” And I think they enjoy spending time with adults other than their parents. The experience really is fulfilling.
Are you a “mom” for any children other than your own? How does this impact your parenting decisions for your own children?
--Beth
Monday, September 20, 2010
"Not-a-mom" time
All I wanted was a chance to pretend like I was 20 again.
My husband and I are attending my 10-year college class reunion at Valparaiso University’s Homecoming next weekend in Northwest Indiana. I have been delighted to hear that many of my closest friends from college will also be attending. I could just picture it: All of us sitting around, reminiscing about old times, laughing about how naïve we were back in the day.
Long ago we booked my parents, who live in the Chicago area, to sit for Tyler. I plan on having fun during this one-day journey into my past, and chasing a very active toddler around a university campus is not my idea of fun. Plus, Tyler’s very early bedtime (6 p.m.) would mean that either my husband (also a Valpo alum) or I would miss the Young Alumni Reunion at a local bar on Saturday night. No thanks.
So I was bummed to hear that several of my college friends are, indeed, bringing their young children and babies to the reunion. So much for reliving our youth. While Mark and I will be blissfully gallivanting around town (well, if you call staying out past 6 “gallivanting”), our friends will be busy with their children.
Of course, their reasons are completely understandable. One pair of friends will be toting along a 2-month-old who, of course, is nursing constantly. Another couple will be bringing their 9-month-old twins because they, too, are still nursing. And I’m sure babysitters aren’t easy to come by for some of my other friends.
I guess it just hadn’t occurred to me that our 10-year reunion would be more of a family occasion. I have to admit that I relish opportunities to get breaks from my son. Of course, I love being around him; I just love my “not-a-mom” time, too. My husband and I are youth group leaders at our church, and the other leaders always laugh when I breathe a sigh of relief every time I’m at a function without Tyler. It’s fun being just me for a change!
That’s what I love about Mothers & More events—the “me” time. It’s so nice to sit down at a game night, sip a glass of wine and feel like an adult again. I can have discussions with adults about adult topics—not discussions with a toddler about why it’s not a good idea for him to watch Dora the Explorer all day long.
I’m especially looking forward to some meaningful adult discussion at Tuesday’s open house—“Navigating Through ‘Mommy Politics’ in a World Where Everyone Parents Differently,” from 7-9 p.m. at St. John Vianney in Brookfield. I’ll see you there!
--Beth
My husband and I are attending my 10-year college class reunion at Valparaiso University’s Homecoming next weekend in Northwest Indiana. I have been delighted to hear that many of my closest friends from college will also be attending. I could just picture it: All of us sitting around, reminiscing about old times, laughing about how naïve we were back in the day.
Long ago we booked my parents, who live in the Chicago area, to sit for Tyler. I plan on having fun during this one-day journey into my past, and chasing a very active toddler around a university campus is not my idea of fun. Plus, Tyler’s very early bedtime (6 p.m.) would mean that either my husband (also a Valpo alum) or I would miss the Young Alumni Reunion at a local bar on Saturday night. No thanks.
So I was bummed to hear that several of my college friends are, indeed, bringing their young children and babies to the reunion. So much for reliving our youth. While Mark and I will be blissfully gallivanting around town (well, if you call staying out past 6 “gallivanting”), our friends will be busy with their children.
Of course, their reasons are completely understandable. One pair of friends will be toting along a 2-month-old who, of course, is nursing constantly. Another couple will be bringing their 9-month-old twins because they, too, are still nursing. And I’m sure babysitters aren’t easy to come by for some of my other friends.
I guess it just hadn’t occurred to me that our 10-year reunion would be more of a family occasion. I have to admit that I relish opportunities to get breaks from my son. Of course, I love being around him; I just love my “not-a-mom” time, too. My husband and I are youth group leaders at our church, and the other leaders always laugh when I breathe a sigh of relief every time I’m at a function without Tyler. It’s fun being just me for a change!
That’s what I love about Mothers & More events—the “me” time. It’s so nice to sit down at a game night, sip a glass of wine and feel like an adult again. I can have discussions with adults about adult topics—not discussions with a toddler about why it’s not a good idea for him to watch Dora the Explorer all day long.
I’m especially looking forward to some meaningful adult discussion at Tuesday’s open house—“Navigating Through ‘Mommy Politics’ in a World Where Everyone Parents Differently,” from 7-9 p.m. at St. John Vianney in Brookfield. I’ll see you there!
--Beth
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Nature vs. nurture
Do you ever worry you’re going to mess your kids up for life?
My husband and I recently took a four-week Love & Logic class at Parents Place in Waukesha (a non-profit resource for parents that I initially learned about through a few Mothers & More members). As our son Tyler is not quite 2, most of the discipline techniques we learned in the class will be more applicable for the future, rather than right now. However, as I listened to the other class participants talk about their unique challenges with their children, I couldn’t help but wonder (yes, I’m channeling Carrie Bradshaw): At what point are our parenting challenges “our issues,” and at what point are they simply about the luck of the draw?
Or, put another way, how do we know whether our children’s issues are more nature or nurture?
The repeating refrain of virtually all baby books is that all babies are different; we must remember that what works for one child may not work for the next. Except, I’ve always wondered when the “shift” from nature to nurture occurs. Is it when they become a toddler? Or when they begin talking in sentences? What about when they begin school and suddenly become subject to the influence of other adults and children?
Love & Logic is all about encouraging children to make good choices. But what happens when you have a child who seems predisposed to make bad choices? Is that the parent’s fault? Is there a point at which a parent throws his or her hands in the air and declares that a child is simply a “bad egg?” I hope not.
I honestly don’t know the answers to any of these questions. I do know that since I joined Mothers & More, I’ve had exposure to a wide, wide variety of parenting techniques, and I’m grateful for it. I feel like I’m doing my son a disservice if I choose just one parenting philosophy such as Love & Logic, SuperNanny, or any of the other parenting “experts.” My parenting, I think, is going to be a hodge-podge of a variety of sources.
Will I mess Tyler up? Or will my husband and I be the ones responsible for turning him into the most upstanding citizen this country has ever seen? Neither, I’m thinking. It’s probably best for me to just worry about each day as it comes and let the future work itself out.
--Beth
My husband and I recently took a four-week Love & Logic class at Parents Place in Waukesha (a non-profit resource for parents that I initially learned about through a few Mothers & More members). As our son Tyler is not quite 2, most of the discipline techniques we learned in the class will be more applicable for the future, rather than right now. However, as I listened to the other class participants talk about their unique challenges with their children, I couldn’t help but wonder (yes, I’m channeling Carrie Bradshaw): At what point are our parenting challenges “our issues,” and at what point are they simply about the luck of the draw?
Or, put another way, how do we know whether our children’s issues are more nature or nurture?
The repeating refrain of virtually all baby books is that all babies are different; we must remember that what works for one child may not work for the next. Except, I’ve always wondered when the “shift” from nature to nurture occurs. Is it when they become a toddler? Or when they begin talking in sentences? What about when they begin school and suddenly become subject to the influence of other adults and children?
Love & Logic is all about encouraging children to make good choices. But what happens when you have a child who seems predisposed to make bad choices? Is that the parent’s fault? Is there a point at which a parent throws his or her hands in the air and declares that a child is simply a “bad egg?” I hope not.
I honestly don’t know the answers to any of these questions. I do know that since I joined Mothers & More, I’ve had exposure to a wide, wide variety of parenting techniques, and I’m grateful for it. I feel like I’m doing my son a disservice if I choose just one parenting philosophy such as Love & Logic, SuperNanny, or any of the other parenting “experts.” My parenting, I think, is going to be a hodge-podge of a variety of sources.
Will I mess Tyler up? Or will my husband and I be the ones responsible for turning him into the most upstanding citizen this country has ever seen? Neither, I’m thinking. It’s probably best for me to just worry about each day as it comes and let the future work itself out.
--Beth
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Time to say goodbye
September 1 looms ahead—the first day of school. For most moms, it is a relief to be able to ship the kids back off to school. But, if this year is your “maiden voyage,” as a mom of a kindergartener, it is your FIRST first day of school and the thought of it is just downright heartbreaking. Even as a seasoned mom, the FIRST first day of school just doesn’t get any easier.
I talked a big game a few months ago with one of my friends, whose oldest child is starting kindergarten. She asked me if I was going to cry when I took Connor to kindergarten. I scoffed at the mere suggestion of tears and emotion. I told her I was going to be fine. I had been through this before, after all. It is no big deal.
Then, I went to kindergarten registration. As I wrote the check that would seal his fate as a school-aged child, I felt my eyes well up with tears and my throat go tight. I looked at this child who was no longer a preschooler. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I found out I was pregnant? Wasn’t it just yesterday that he walked for the first time? Where did the past five years go? He had gotten so big and now I had to say good bye to him. He was no longer my student but would enter the world of formal education and all of its positive and not so positive influences.
Looking back, he and I have had many mini goodbyes--when he stopped nursing, when he walked for the first time, when I left him with a sitter, even when he went to preschool for a few hours a week. Those were all sad and hard in their own way. But, they didn’t feel as hard as this goodbye.
He would be gone for hours each day, five days a week. Perhaps because I have older children, my worries were even more compounded from prior knowledge. There would be bullies who would try to hurt him. There would be the disappointments of a friend not liking him anymore or even the pain of noticing a scrape on his knee and not knowing how it got there. How would he make it all day without me? Who will wipe his tears if he falls? Who will hold him if he is scared? Who will help him in the bathroom? How is he going to get his coat on and off? Is he going to remember his back pack? How can I protect him if I am not right there beside him?
So, if that friend asks me again if I will cry on the first day of kindergarten, I will respond with a resounding, YES! I will cry like crazy and he will probably be very embarrassed.
As I stand on the school grounds that day with my box of tissue leaning on the strength of the other moms of kindergarteners standing with me, through my tears I will be very proud. I will always treasure the time I spent with Connor. There will always be a special place in my heart for him that will transcend space and time. It reminds me of that song: “Every time you go away, you take a piece of me with you…” He will take a piece of me with him that will represent the love we shared and the things we taught each other during the past five years. We will get through the first day of kindergarten and all the other hard goodbyes that follow because of that love. He will continue to grow and thrive and I will be there at each good bye to cry and to be proud.
--Chris
I talked a big game a few months ago with one of my friends, whose oldest child is starting kindergarten. She asked me if I was going to cry when I took Connor to kindergarten. I scoffed at the mere suggestion of tears and emotion. I told her I was going to be fine. I had been through this before, after all. It is no big deal.
Then, I went to kindergarten registration. As I wrote the check that would seal his fate as a school-aged child, I felt my eyes well up with tears and my throat go tight. I looked at this child who was no longer a preschooler. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I found out I was pregnant? Wasn’t it just yesterday that he walked for the first time? Where did the past five years go? He had gotten so big and now I had to say good bye to him. He was no longer my student but would enter the world of formal education and all of its positive and not so positive influences.
Looking back, he and I have had many mini goodbyes--when he stopped nursing, when he walked for the first time, when I left him with a sitter, even when he went to preschool for a few hours a week. Those were all sad and hard in their own way. But, they didn’t feel as hard as this goodbye.
He would be gone for hours each day, five days a week. Perhaps because I have older children, my worries were even more compounded from prior knowledge. There would be bullies who would try to hurt him. There would be the disappointments of a friend not liking him anymore or even the pain of noticing a scrape on his knee and not knowing how it got there. How would he make it all day without me? Who will wipe his tears if he falls? Who will hold him if he is scared? Who will help him in the bathroom? How is he going to get his coat on and off? Is he going to remember his back pack? How can I protect him if I am not right there beside him?
So, if that friend asks me again if I will cry on the first day of kindergarten, I will respond with a resounding, YES! I will cry like crazy and he will probably be very embarrassed.
As I stand on the school grounds that day with my box of tissue leaning on the strength of the other moms of kindergarteners standing with me, through my tears I will be very proud. I will always treasure the time I spent with Connor. There will always be a special place in my heart for him that will transcend space and time. It reminds me of that song: “Every time you go away, you take a piece of me with you…” He will take a piece of me with him that will represent the love we shared and the things we taught each other during the past five years. We will get through the first day of kindergarten and all the other hard goodbyes that follow because of that love. He will continue to grow and thrive and I will be there at each good bye to cry and to be proud.
--Chris
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Not as easy as solving for "x"
Though I didn’t particularly like math when I was in high school, I always did well. Maybe it was because I appreciated that math was so cut and dry (at least algebra was). Given an equation, we used a formula to solve for x and y and…voila, we were done!
Motherhood is the exact opposite. Every time you think you have the formula figured out, it changes. And there aren’t just two variables in each equation—there might be five, or even 10 or 20. Every child is different, so a formula that works for one family might not work for the other. High school math is predictable, while children are most certainly not.
I was bemoaning this fact earlier this week at a Mothers & More event at Wirth Park Aquatic Center. It was an incredibly hot morning, and I was meeting other friends at the pool in addition to the ladies from Mothers & More (I hadn’t RSVP’d, so I planned on just meeting up with the M&M group when I saw them). My plan was simple: I would bounce seamlessly from mom to mom, chatting while my almost-2-year-old Tyler played happily in the pool.
Except. Tyler kept climbing up the slide, then losing his nerve, insisting I slide down with him every single time. My friend Ashley was breastfeeding her 4-month-old, so I was trying to watch both Tyler and her 2-year-old. Every time I tried to talk to another mom, Tyler would head in the opposite direction and, fearing a toddler underwater catastrophe, I had to cut my conversation short.
I didn’t get to say more than a few sentences to most of the Mothers & More moms at the pool. I didn’t even cross paths with a couple of them (they’re probably reading this and wondering where I was!).
My formula for a perfect, social morning at the pool had backfired. Although I left after an hour and a half, I was tired beyond belief. Chasing a toddler (or two) around does not lend itself to social interaction!
But, I guess that’s what happens. The great part about Mothers & More is that the other moms completely understand when you have to walk away in the middle of a sentence to remove your child from imminent danger or a violent altercation (“Don’t hit that boy on the head with a shovel, sweetie!”) And even when the job of being a mom keeps you too busy to say much, it’s still nice to head to a park or pool knowing you can grab even a few minutes of adult conversation.
--Beth
Motherhood is the exact opposite. Every time you think you have the formula figured out, it changes. And there aren’t just two variables in each equation—there might be five, or even 10 or 20. Every child is different, so a formula that works for one family might not work for the other. High school math is predictable, while children are most certainly not.
I was bemoaning this fact earlier this week at a Mothers & More event at Wirth Park Aquatic Center. It was an incredibly hot morning, and I was meeting other friends at the pool in addition to the ladies from Mothers & More (I hadn’t RSVP’d, so I planned on just meeting up with the M&M group when I saw them). My plan was simple: I would bounce seamlessly from mom to mom, chatting while my almost-2-year-old Tyler played happily in the pool.
Except. Tyler kept climbing up the slide, then losing his nerve, insisting I slide down with him every single time. My friend Ashley was breastfeeding her 4-month-old, so I was trying to watch both Tyler and her 2-year-old. Every time I tried to talk to another mom, Tyler would head in the opposite direction and, fearing a toddler underwater catastrophe, I had to cut my conversation short.
I didn’t get to say more than a few sentences to most of the Mothers & More moms at the pool. I didn’t even cross paths with a couple of them (they’re probably reading this and wondering where I was!).
My formula for a perfect, social morning at the pool had backfired. Although I left after an hour and a half, I was tired beyond belief. Chasing a toddler (or two) around does not lend itself to social interaction!
But, I guess that’s what happens. The great part about Mothers & More is that the other moms completely understand when you have to walk away in the middle of a sentence to remove your child from imminent danger or a violent altercation (“Don’t hit that boy on the head with a shovel, sweetie!”) And even when the job of being a mom keeps you too busy to say much, it’s still nice to head to a park or pool knowing you can grab even a few minutes of adult conversation.
--Beth
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Different is good
Do you ever attend a Mothers & More event and feel like a complete outsider? Do you feel like everyone already knows each other and you just don’t fit in? Maybe you are afraid to mingle because if people knew the real “you” they might reject you.
When I first joined Mothers & More, I felt like I was in high school again trying to find my way. I don’t fit the average Mothers & More demographic. I am in my early 40s and I have been divorced and remarried. My husband is turning 50 next year and I have 5 kids.
After I got remarried, I left my career when I became pregnant again. All of my peers were in midlife careers. They had older kids. They were very much beyond the baby stage. So, I needed to find new friends that could help me through the baby stages again. When I attended my first Mothers & More event, I felt so lost. Everyone seemed so young, fit and wealthy. I stayed a member but I didn’t attend many events.
Then, my husband lost his job and he was home all the time. Now, in my mind, I was even stranger because on top of all my other differences, I was now poor too. Could I be any different! Because I needed support and a place to “get away,” I decided to volunteer for the position of secretary. I needed to belong more than ever even if I was very different.
Because the board is a smaller group, I came out of my shell more easily than in a bigger setting. I found that everyone welcomed me with open arms. It was my own insecurities that created the feeling that I didn’t fit in. I might have a different family background but there were many things I had in common with other moms. We all have difficulties in our lives even if those situations aren’t the same. The important thing is that we are there for each other to listen and to lend a hand. Mothers & More is not just there for the happy, normal people, it is there for the rest of us too.
Being the secretary has been so fulfilling. It fits in great with my busy schedule. The board meetings are held late at night when most of the events for my 5 children are done. It is a welcome gift that I can give to myself. I can spend time in the company of other women to laugh and smile. For a few hours, I can forget about the difficulties of marriage, parenting and step parenting.
Even though we come from different worlds, we all want the same things out of life—love, happiness and a little “me” time. I have grown much more confident because I made an effort to fit in even though I didn’t fit the “norm."
So, if you are attending meetings but are feeling a little alone, different or just plain shy, please reach out and give some of your time. You could attend a special interest group, a play group or a Tuesday night meeting. You could volunteer to take on a board position. What you will get in return will be so much more than what you put into it.
We are all a bit different in our own ways and that is what makes our group so exquisite!! We need diversity in our group to keep changing and making ourselves and our group better and stronger.
--Chris
When I first joined Mothers & More, I felt like I was in high school again trying to find my way. I don’t fit the average Mothers & More demographic. I am in my early 40s and I have been divorced and remarried. My husband is turning 50 next year and I have 5 kids.
After I got remarried, I left my career when I became pregnant again. All of my peers were in midlife careers. They had older kids. They were very much beyond the baby stage. So, I needed to find new friends that could help me through the baby stages again. When I attended my first Mothers & More event, I felt so lost. Everyone seemed so young, fit and wealthy. I stayed a member but I didn’t attend many events.
Then, my husband lost his job and he was home all the time. Now, in my mind, I was even stranger because on top of all my other differences, I was now poor too. Could I be any different! Because I needed support and a place to “get away,” I decided to volunteer for the position of secretary. I needed to belong more than ever even if I was very different.
Because the board is a smaller group, I came out of my shell more easily than in a bigger setting. I found that everyone welcomed me with open arms. It was my own insecurities that created the feeling that I didn’t fit in. I might have a different family background but there were many things I had in common with other moms. We all have difficulties in our lives even if those situations aren’t the same. The important thing is that we are there for each other to listen and to lend a hand. Mothers & More is not just there for the happy, normal people, it is there for the rest of us too.
Being the secretary has been so fulfilling. It fits in great with my busy schedule. The board meetings are held late at night when most of the events for my 5 children are done. It is a welcome gift that I can give to myself. I can spend time in the company of other women to laugh and smile. For a few hours, I can forget about the difficulties of marriage, parenting and step parenting.
Even though we come from different worlds, we all want the same things out of life—love, happiness and a little “me” time. I have grown much more confident because I made an effort to fit in even though I didn’t fit the “norm."
So, if you are attending meetings but are feeling a little alone, different or just plain shy, please reach out and give some of your time. You could attend a special interest group, a play group or a Tuesday night meeting. You could volunteer to take on a board position. What you will get in return will be so much more than what you put into it.
We are all a bit different in our own ways and that is what makes our group so exquisite!! We need diversity in our group to keep changing and making ourselves and our group better and stronger.
--Chris
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
What a difference a year makes
Though I consider myself a social person, I’m not a huge fan of “unstructured” social activities. You know what I’m talking about—the kinds of events where you walk in a room, drink a little, eat a little, and…talk.
What do you talk about? Well, if the room is full of people you don’t know very well, you go through all your small talk gems—how many kids you have, what you do (or did) for a living, where you live, etc. While many people love “social hour,” to me, it’s a lot of work.
That’s why I decided not to go to the Mothers & More summer picnic two months after I joined the organization last year. I didn’t know many people and, frankly, I wasn’t up for it.
I hadn’t intended on becoming a board member right away, either. I figured becoming a leader in Mothers & More was best saved for when I had been around a couple of years. But I’m a sucker for begging, and when one of the board members sent out a general e-mail about a month after the picnic begging for new blood, I just couldn’t say no, with the caveat that “I don’t know very much about Mothers & More yet.” I became one of three Membership board members, regularly attending chapter meetings, greeting new members and taking part in chapter decisions.
Fast forward eight months. Not only was I present at the picnic, but I had volunteered for the planning committee. As I munched on my brat at the June 2010 event, I surveyed the room…and realized I knew nearly all of the 25-30 moms at the picnic. And I didn’t just know their names: I could tell you their kids’ approximate ages, their interests, their involvement in Mothers & More and, for a few of them, where they were in the potty training process. Throughout the picnic, I chatted easily with dozens of picnic-goers and had a genuinely good time.
I belonged. And it was because I had taken the initiative to become involved. It sounds like a tired cliché, but who knew that volunteering your time could be so rewarding?
Though my term as a board member ends in October, I will continue to serve in leadership positions within the organization because, honestly, I’m addicted!
--Beth
What do you talk about? Well, if the room is full of people you don’t know very well, you go through all your small talk gems—how many kids you have, what you do (or did) for a living, where you live, etc. While many people love “social hour,” to me, it’s a lot of work.
That’s why I decided not to go to the Mothers & More summer picnic two months after I joined the organization last year. I didn’t know many people and, frankly, I wasn’t up for it.
I hadn’t intended on becoming a board member right away, either. I figured becoming a leader in Mothers & More was best saved for when I had been around a couple of years. But I’m a sucker for begging, and when one of the board members sent out a general e-mail about a month after the picnic begging for new blood, I just couldn’t say no, with the caveat that “I don’t know very much about Mothers & More yet.” I became one of three Membership board members, regularly attending chapter meetings, greeting new members and taking part in chapter decisions.
Fast forward eight months. Not only was I present at the picnic, but I had volunteered for the planning committee. As I munched on my brat at the June 2010 event, I surveyed the room…and realized I knew nearly all of the 25-30 moms at the picnic. And I didn’t just know their names: I could tell you their kids’ approximate ages, their interests, their involvement in Mothers & More and, for a few of them, where they were in the potty training process. Throughout the picnic, I chatted easily with dozens of picnic-goers and had a genuinely good time.
I belonged. And it was because I had taken the initiative to become involved. It sounds like a tired cliché, but who knew that volunteering your time could be so rewarding?
Though my term as a board member ends in October, I will continue to serve in leadership positions within the organization because, honestly, I’m addicted!
--Beth
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