50-something Moms Blog

Social Media – And the Kids are Alright

Being a tech-savvy, social networking, bang the keyboard, sort of mom I always find myself defending our kids and the way they socialize online. My kids grew up first with email, then IM, touched on MySpace and came of age smack in the heart of Facebook, video chatting and text messaging. For the most part they are well socialized and as far as I can tell their vocal chords have not atrophied. They even have eye contact when they speak to people. 

That is not to say I have not had my share of disgust when I look across a table, room or car and see those thumbs furiously banging out a text. But I have to admit, I can be just as guilty. Show of hands, how many moms have gone out to dinner with a group of women and as soon as everyone sits down the iphones and blackberries come out of the bags and on to the table. "We need to stay in touch with the kids," we all say. But have we not fallen victim to the same addiction to being in touch?

We had a discussion at our Thanksgiving table about this topic. Those who are less apt to embrace technology were quick to judge and consider this next generation hopeless in regards to social skills. Let's face it, we can either move with technology or fight it and sound like every other generation that helped forge a gap. 

Simple fact: social networking is not going away. It will morph constantly and our kids will learn each new tool effortlessly because they have been trained to break the code naturally. Some of us will do the same, others will live in fear of what it has done to the art of conversation and interpersonal relationships.

Thanksgiving-Sized Hug

Today I spent the day running around doing pre-Thanksgiving shopping. I was at the third market of the day, lost in my own head, when I bumped into a dear friend in the parking lot. She got out of her car and gave me a big smile and the most sincere hug.

It was a hug with history! Lined up behind that hug were years of sharing. We have known each other since our daughters were babies. Wrapped up in that hug were nannies, carpooling, parenting advice, sick parents, school plays, college acceptances, broken hearts and first loves. 

Twenty years of laughter and tears hung between us as we chatted. Though we talked of the usual things when I looked in her eyes I saw a flashback of all we have gone through together. As I drove away with the promise of making plans I thought about what I have here. And what amazing friendships I have been fortunate to build. 

Newly Retired Soccer Mom

I was never a big fan of the term Soccer Mom. Nor am I sure why my son's sport of choice was targeted for that 'honor'. I feel that the name was often used sarcastically or perhaps for marketing purposes. 

I surely never fit the profile. But I have – for many years now – in the literal sense of the phrase, been a Soccer Mom. 

Until last Friday. 

That is when my 17-year-old High School senior played his final game. 

The boys spent the evening before the playoffs preparing themselves for the Big Game Psych. Most of the team ran out for mohawks, our school district's unwritten tradition to mark the soccer team in playoff season. This year, after a particularly rough season of injuries, some of the boys went a step further and bleached their hair blonde as well.

Past meets Future on the Checkout Line

Today, as I was checking out in the grocery line, I met a women who I recognized as my past. That might sound a bit delusional – ok, more than a bit – but I am a true believer that sometimes we are put in the path of another person to gain perspective on our own lives. Today I think it was for the benefit of both of us.

She was very pregnant. I mean like about to burst, 5 days to go, kind of pregnant. And of course she was food shopping. One has to nest at that point, right? I asked her when she was due, if it was her first and all the other questions you would ask a woman at that stage. She and I got to talking and I found out that, like me, this was her second, she was having a boy after a girl and trying for a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-section).

"Um, hon, I don't know how to tell you this, but I am pretty sure I am your future", I told her.

She laughed and asked me how her life would be turning out.

"Well, 17 years from right about now I would imagine if you have any brain cells left after that 20-year gallop down the path of parenting, you might think of me and wonder why I am so cheerful", I said. She laughed nervously and asked why. I told her that having survived the terrible 2's, toddler years, and pre-school all wrapped up together in one bundle was no training for what pre-empty nest has to offer. Driving teens, kids going off to college – often never to truly return – and the prospect of the next chapter breathing down one's neck was a little daunting. Not to mention the bleeding of cash for a good 7 years.

"So tell me, why ARE you so cheerful?", she asked.

You CAN Teach an Old Dog New Tricks

First, let me apologize to the matriarchs on both sides of my family for referring to them as dogs. These two beautiful women are anything but! Just a phrase, my dear moms, and one I use with the utmost respect and extreme pride in your accomplishments.

Both my mother and mother-in-law are in their 70's. Again, moms, sorry for outing your age, but we here at 50-something Moms Blog are candid about our number and proud of it to boot. So go with it.

Like most women of their generation, they did not work outside the home. As a result, it was never necessary for them to learn how to use a computer . Both of their husbands were forced into the internet age by nature of their businesses, but the women had no need to learn. 

They have spent the past few years in frustration due to their lack of knowledge of the internet. They felt left out when their husbands, children and grandchildren all spoke of email, google, facebook and twitter. Ok, maybe I am the only one in the crowd on twitter, but you catch my drift. What was most touching to me is that what drove them to want to learn was the pure desire to connect, the true essence of social media. 

Turning 50 - It's Only a Number

" Not bad for 99", said the old woman in front of me at the supermarket as she gestured towards her husband counting out his change.

"99?!" I said, how old are you?" She told me that she was 95, he would be 100 in November and they would be married 76 years that same month. All I could think was that either Gary or I will surely run one or the other over with the car before then I hope to have such a long, happy marriage. Seventy-six years of marriage, YIKES!

Honestly, these people looked like they were in their early 80s. "He does all the cooking now. I did it the first half of our lives but he finds it relaxing and I just do the wash and the ironing now. Maybe a little dusting now and then."

Now, here is a little something you do not know about me. It is more than a coincidence as it has been happening my whole adult life. At times when I am most stressed or aggravated, perhaps suffering from some good old-fashioned self pity, I get a sign. No seriously, I do. It is not that I am all that religious, moderately I would say, but I am spiritual. And I do pay attention to the signs.

So here is the thing. I could be having a rotten day, things can be going all sorts of wrong and then I will see a blind man get on a subway. Or someone with two canes walking down the street. All kinds of disabilities show up in my line of vision just as I am feeling good and sorry for myself.

And that is when I look up and say, "OK, I get it."

Birthdays... WTF

No, not that WTF. This year my friends and I are celebrating 'We Turn Fifty (WTF)'. Forgive me for the play on words, but there is much about turning fifty that leaves us women thinking 'What The...", well, you get what I mean.

Sometimes we have a tendency to over-dramatize the milestone birthdays. We set up unrealistic, unmet expectations, followed by unwarranted disappointment. We don't seem to let ourselves off the hook. 'This is where I expected to be at _______ (fill in your age)'. What a difficult way to live our lives.

You will hear forty is the new thirty, fifty is the new forty; honestly, who coins these phrases other than those who are still trying to hang on to what they believe the last decade held for them? Funny how the previous milestone is only desirable after we have left it in the dust and it is no longer attainable. 

I am not one for large celebrations or public recognition of the 'big day', that is just not my style. People often mistake this desire to celebrate quietly as distaste for aging or denial of the event. That is not it at all; quite the contrary.

The Rock of Gibraltar is Cracking and the Type A Mom

"You know, you used to have it all together. Now it is like the Rock of Gibraltar is cracking."

That was the first comment he made. 'He' would be my husband of 24 years. It was spoken one morning a few months back. Somehow I had lost the rhythm of the morning and the next thing knew I was burning the pancakes and off went the friggin' 'less sensitive' smoke alarm. 

Less sensitive, my ass! 

All this would not have been such a big deal if my poor sweet dog did not have a severe neurological reaction to the sound of the smoke alarm. This poor animal starts to shake uncontrollably at the sound of the thing. 

There I was, broom in hand trying to shut the alarm, the dog shaking, and my son mentioned it might not be a bad idea to shut the stove since the griddle was smoking. My husband suggested that I open a window, or maybe a door. And then he said that dreaded comment about the state of my efficiency.

Camp is Short and Life is Long

This little pearl of wisdom spilled out of my husband while he was on the phone. He was explaining to his cousin how we feel about our kids being counselors at sleep away camp. Our children, at 17 and 20, are working at the summer camp that they have attended for 8 and 11 years, respectively. The same camp that my husband and I attended, as well as our siblings, cousins and even my mother! 

In these times of rising unemployment and stiff job competition it is hard to let go of the idea that internships and job experience are the only route to travel. Unless of course you understand the need your children have to fill by going back to camp because you too have known it first hand.

Read the title of this this post and really think about it for a moment. If you ever went to summer camp you are smiling and nodding your head. If you have not, let me try to articulate the importance of this statement.

Kids on Leashes and Dogs in Strollers

Sometimes it feels as if the world is turned upside down. I am a student of my surroundings, even more so since I began blogging, and I am truly amazed at the oddities I encounter on a regular basis. Friends have begun to confirm my status as the magnet for the absurd.

Strolling down the boardwalk on Sunday we came across this couple taking their toddler for a walk... on a leash! Now, I know there are all sorts of parenting trends out there that have their defenders. And each generation comes up with their theories on better ways to raise their kids; deeming the generation before them ignorant, rather than experienced. But this one? Nope, sorry. I am not buying that harnessing and leashing your child is beneficial. 

If your kid is a wanderer (and I had one so I know what it is like), keep your eyes on them at all times. If they are unruly, teach them not to be. If they run away, run after them. This is not brain surgery, folks. These are the basic skills of parenting and teaching your child to evolve in a civilized manor. Treat them like an animal and they will act like one.