50-something Moms Blog

"Non-Mom?" I Don't Think So

Cross posted from the DC Metro Moms Blog

I've been called a lot of things in my life, some nicer than others.

But since becoming the mother of my daughter, no one has ever called me a "Non-Mom" until this weekend.  Yup, you heard me -- a big network called me a Non-Mom.  Well, not just me -- they insulted thousands of other moms, too.

As if a show produced for Mother's Day called "America's Favorite Mom" isn't bad enough -- Hey, America -- who's your most favorite-ist mother off all?? -- someone had the bright idea of dividing all the moms into categories.  You had the Working Mom.  The Military Mom.  The CEO Mom.  And then the ultra-special category just for moms like me -- the Non-Mom.

No, that's not for women who aren't moms yet.  This was a special category and name created just for moms who aren't related to their children biologically -- moms by adoption (me), step-moms (me) and foster moms.

Yup, I'm a Non-Mom.  Does that mean I don't have to cook dinner tonight or finish the laundry?

Is It Really Passover if the Goyum Makes Dinner?

"Momma, what's je-filt fish?"

"That's gefilte fish.  Um, well, it's sort of like fish meatloaf."

"Can we have some?  And what's a SEE-der plate?"

"That's SAY-der plate.  Go ask your daddy."

My marriage and family are mixed in many ways, including religion.  Mr. PunditMom is Jewish and I am... well ... not. We celebrate all our respective holidays in our family -- Christmas & Chanukah, Easter & Passover.  We haven't gotten around to Festivus yet, though.

The Year of Turning 50 -- Does This Black Nail Polish Make Me Look Younger?

Tell me the truth -- am I too old for this??

The whole idea of black nails is something I never would have embraced before.  But we had a fancy event to attend recently at PunditGirl's school.  My outfit was black and a teensy bit sparkly.  So I thought, "Hey, why not get a manicure!"  That could be fierce!

I generally don't indulge -- it's just too hard to keep them looking nice, what with all the typing I do.  But my nail lady (I DO make time for the pedi's!) could fit me in, so I dashed off to the salon.

As I scanned the reds and the pinks and the buffs, I noticed she still had some black polish on the shelf that she usually saves for her teen clients at Halloween.

Stuck in the Middle -- Refereeing the Mommy Wars

It feels like the Mommy Wars have been raging on for way to long, now.  I haven't been keeping track of the days like Keith Olbermann does, but I know it's time for them to be over. 

While we tend to be pretty civil here at the DC Metro Moms blog (and all the sister blogs!), when we had a dust-up a little while ago about whether children's birthday parties that are scheduled on weekdays, I started thinking about my place on the field in this maternal conflict and realized I'm stuck in the middle.

You see, I don't work full-time outside the home and I am not a traditional stay-at-home-mother.  After working in various office settings for more years than I care to count, I now work at home on a part-time basis.  There are plenty of good and bad things about that arrangement, but that's a different post for a different day.

But I realize, based on various episodes, that some of the moms I know who went back to work in their offices after having their children view me as a SAHM.  Sure, I have a writing business, but from some I can feel their disdain for my choice not to go back to my five-day-a-week job rising from their skin like

The Year of Turning 50 - Part One

While I'm trying to ignore all the CNN & MSNBC Hillary vs. Barack coverage, I thought I'd talk about something else I'm trying to ignore -- my age.

I've tried really hard to only hint at my advancing years as I blog. It wouldn't take too much work to figure out how many I have under my belt if you poke around a little bit for hints and clues, but in October I turned 49.

There -- I've said it.

Too close to 50 for my taste. Many have told me I don't look my age.  One friend's husband recently said I look "freakishly young" in light of my birth date -- I think that was a compliment.  (And I promise, I don't have a picture in my attic!)

As I am preparing to rip up the inevitable AARP card that will arrive later this year, I've come to the conclusion that this must be the time to get off my arse and get moving on some projects that have been