50-something Moms Blog

Too Damn Busy

This photo is a perfect example of why I make sure to carry a camera at all times. When I stumbled upon this license plate in the supermarket parking lot I was thrilled to be able to get a quick shot. I have a growing library of vanity license plates, but this one could be an all-time fave. 

I think it is safe to say the majority of people who passed this car in that lot had the same thought that I did, "Aren't we all?" After all it is late May, the time of year when transitions and celebrations collide and spontaneously combust. As moms, we wake up with to-do lists and a calendar of events that seem almost impossible to achieve. 

I started my personal blog. i could cry but i don't have time in reaction to the feeling of being '2DAMBUSY'. Working and raising children can pull a parent in every direction. But so much of this is self-imposed. None of us is half as indispensable as we imagine ourselves to be. The perception is almost the 'mom food' that we thrive on. We parent, organize, plan, strategize, work, play, drive, drive, drive... all with the same level of intensity. And always humming in the back of our heads is that mantra: 2DAMBUSY! 

Would You Rather be a Cougar or a Cow?

Now that I have gotten your attention – and most probably alienated most of you – the answer would be:

Neither.

Let me clarify so you don't go running from this lovely community of fabulous women thinking that this is a blog written by crazy, narcissistic, shallow lunatics – over 50, of course.

There are six amazing 50-something women that I get together with once a month. We have been dining together for almost 15 years and have shared our lives over many a meal and even more bottles of wine. 

We have raised, or are still raising, 18 kids between us. As with all women of our generation, we have seen our share of joys and hardships and have helped to pull each other through them. We are the sounding board, the place you can get away with nothing, the heated debate and the loving hug when you need it most.

We have worked at home, outside the home, started careers and left them. We come from all different professions. Some are still passionate about them, others are just trying to make a living and still others have taken different paths to fulfillment.

In short, we are seven women who have reached a point in life where the little things should no longer be what we sweat over.

Define little.

Attack of the WAHMs. Enough Already!

This parenting – or shall I be more specific and say mothering – argument comes around in nauseating cycles every few years. First it was the mothers that made the choice to work outside the home (WOHMs) vs. the ones who decided to stay home with their kids (SAHMs). Then it was the work at home moms (WAHMs) vs. the work outside the home moms (WOHMs) vs. the stay at home moms (SAHMs). What are these, Glorious Women of Wrestling (GLOW) teams?

This discussion is always fueled by some Higher Ed. study about what the work choices of mothers is doing to their kids. USA Today ran an article last week outlining all the reasons why moms are screwing up, yet again. This time the culprit is our addiction to technology and multi-tasking. And the main target are the moms that choose to work at home (WAHMs for those of you who are paying attention).

Just Landed: Adventures in Letting Go

Like most young moms, I used to worry when my little ones walked around the corner to their friends' houses. Then it was the bike riding concern. Before I knew it they were behind the wheel of a car and as my husband jumped forward shouting, "Be Careful!" on my daughter's 17th birthday as she backed out of the driveway, I came to realize that for the rest of my parenting days I would be partaking in the lesson of letting go.

Fast forward 21 years and my firstborn is airborne almost every weekend this semester. It is not uncommon for me to wake at 6:30 am to that ever famous text message: 'Just Landed'. Although I have never asked her to, I suppose there is an ingrained training that compels her to notify me when she has landed. I get it; at 50, I still do the same with my mom.

I have never been a particularly nervous mother. I took my mother's ever-famous advise of giving my kids 'enough rope to hang themselves'. People ask me if I am nervous with my daughter traveling so much. Many of my friends pace and hold their breath every time their kids fly. I have to be honest, at this point I am so used to her travels that most times I am unaware of her flight times until she has landed. 

Mommy's March Madness

I am not going to pretend that I am one of these moms that is up to speed on college basketball. I have surely spent my share of hours on the side of the court when my kids played, and I understand the game (I am not that lame). However, by osmosis, I do sort of get caught up in the wave of March Madness living with my husband and kids. My daughter attends a Big 10 school and my son will be attending the very same school in the fall (yeh, I know, two in the same place – I will be in heaven). 

This week I went to lunch with a considerably younger client. Ok, her kids are 3 and 5 and she is pregnant and my kids are 17 and turning 21. Maybe she is a little more than considerably younger than I am. 

Nonetheless, she is a Syracuse grad and I don't believe you are allowed to enter the real world from that school without taking the oath to bleed orange for the rest of your life. She was all but bursting out of her maternity bra over the excitement of the impending college basketball frenzy.

Being the lovely and inclusive woman that she is, she works very hard at making her virtual team always feel as if we are part of her work family. We are invited to holiday parties, share in the kind of camaraderie you would with co-workers in an office and in turn, we have been invited to join in the March Madness office pool. Very nice, right?

Left to Our Own Devices

Look at where we have found ourselves. Smack on the road to the second decade of the millenium and we have all become hopelessly dependent. Not on our spouses, employers or parents. Not even on our friends and families. We are now tethered to those delicious little devices and networks that were invented to help us...

simplify.

If only! 

Blackberries, iphones, droids, laptops, linkedin, facebook, twitter, youtube, now foursquare; all the makings of a handheld world. We have been given the 'gift' of the ability to leave the house, the office, the country for goodness sake and still be able to stay connected with our jobs and our families. 

Gone are the days that you have to sit at your desk to do your job. Gone also are the days when a working mother has to leave the house with that awful pit in her stomach worrying that her caregiver and kids can't reach her at any given moment.

Ok, that is the upside. But what happens when you hit the dreaded... dead zone! I personally have lived with iphone envy for years because I live in an area where AT&T is simply not an option. 

Snow Shoveling Like a Virgo

Seventeen years ago I labored through my birthday. I was fairly convinced I would be sharing the rest of my birthdays with the little guy, but somewhere after midnight I gave birth to my younger child. I suppose he was destined to not share the day. However, being born in mid-September we do share an astrological sign, we are both Virgos. I am not all that hooked into astrology, but the core description of our sign is too on target to ignore: 

"The Virgo personality is a complex mix of intelligence, common sense, attention to detail, and commitment." 

In some ways that might be an understatement. We both have an over-active detail gene and neither one of us will ever say die. 

Fast forward to the big snow storm this week on the east coast. There we stood, head to head in the driveway; obsessively shoveling every few hours to keep up with the eighteen-inch dumping we received. But we couldn't shovel simply to clear the snow. Oh no, these two crazy Virgos went nuts on that white stuff. I am crazy about having nice, neat edges. And he? Well, he scrapes away with that shovel and does not stop till he sees pavement. There will be no black ice on his watch.

Hoops for Haiti – How Local Can Touch Global

Images of devastation; we have been bombarded with them since the earthquake hit Haiti. The personal stories of salvation and struggle continue to fill our daily consciousness. We have seen the miracle of a man pulled from a collapsed convenience store after 11 days, a husband traveling an hour to dig his beloved wife out of the rubble with his own bare hands and countless stories of equal human courage and tragedy in real-time, enabled by current technology. 

The upside of all this media saturation is the ability to deliver the story without lag time. Technologies are being developed as we speak to aid in the crisis and create solutions that were once unthinkable. Crisis Camp Haiti is a good example of the technology community's invaluable contribution to solving logistics issues to help connect aid with need at a micro level.

Now, more than ever, we are delivering the message from family to family. It is not just stories on the nightly news anymore. Mobile apps, benefit concerts, the ability to make donations through texting and itunes; these are all the language of our young people. We are not depending on them to digest these stories through traditional outlets, we are speaking to them, quite frankly, where they hang out. And we are touching them. In a big way. This is all the Global piece.

The Shirt Off Her Back

Ok, 50-something women, a show of hands. Who would even think of wearing a cashmere anything these days, let alone a cowl neck sweater? 

That's what I thought; absolutely out of the question.

We spent this New Year's Eve with our dear friends, as we always do. A quiet evening of a movie and dinner at a favorite local restaurant, and then a drop by at special party on the way home. All within the zip code and all spent with people who are very special to us. No Time Square ball dropping, no bespangled city events. We like to keep it real and keep it local. True friendship trumps glamour anyday.

As we walked into the movie theater, I spotted my girlfriend waiting for us with the tickets. To my surprise, she was wearing a (very lovely) black cashmere cowl neck sweater. She looked quite nice but all I could think of was, dear Lord if I had to wear that I would be ripping my skin off right now. I pictured myself stripping like a madwoman running for the bathroom to splash cold water on the back of my neck.

Oh, the joys of life changes!

Ashley Dupre – from infamy to fame

Real life seems to mimic far-fetched SNL sketches more often these days. There have been so many outrageous media occurrences that we are involuntarily thrown into. They create an overloaded reality-show atmosphere to daily living. I can't help but be simultaneously amused and disturbed.

Case in point: Ashley Dupre becomes the NY Post's latest hire as 'advice columnist'. For those unfamiliar with her story, Ms. Dupre is the high class escort that was a key player in toppling former NY Governor Eliot Spitzer. Ironically, Mr. Spitzer's career was built on a holier-than-thou platform that included prosecuting individuals who operated adult prostitution businesses. The theory of glass houses took him crashing down hard and fast, with little sympathy from a public he was not all that popular with from the onset. Ms. Dupre, on the other hand, peaked their interest. She became a pseudo celebrity.

Although her climb to fame was on the ladder of infamy, the end result is still a sweet job with the NY Post. My first reaction to this news was one of disgust. With media outlets laying off droves of quality journalists on a daily basis, it is hard to swallow the likes of a high priced hooker on the payroll in a writing capacity.

But hey, who better to give advice on such topics as "How do I know if my daughter is getting in trouble?" and "Are there telltale signs a man isn't happy in his marriage?" than a women who has walked in her spike-heeled shoes? Think about it for a moment. She is authentic. So I decided to be open-minded and give her a chance.