50-something Moms Blog

Uncontrollable Mothering: is it ever smooth sailing?

I woke up today and read the somewhat unsympathetic mean spirited post I published last night, moments after I learned that Abby Sunderland had been located alive and well.  It’s just not like me to be so snarky.  Especially considering I spent much of yesterday in angst about Abby’s safety.

This felt familiar.  I was wishing I could hug Abby and somehow apologize to her for my loss of control….when it hit me:

Uncontrollable Mothering. I’ve described this phenomenon before:

Free Range Kids: a rough landing for helicopter parents

You can't miss all the finger pointing lately aimed at helicopter parents.  If helicopter parents didn't feel guilty enough, a new study was just released, which indicates their  children grow up to be neurotic (there’s a real scientific breakthrough….).

The flip side is Free Range parenting,  personified by Lenore Skenazy, the Manhattan mom attacked as “the Worst Mother in the World” after she let her 9 year old son ride the subway alone  (which I would still not allow my adult children to do …LOL).

What’s a parent to do?  Having been there,  I get both sides.

I'm a Jewish mother, and sometimes I think that alone could qualify me as a helicopter parent.   Although they didn’t call it helicopter parenting back in my day– since helicopters hadn’t been invented yet. (that is a joke, people)   We used a different word to describe it:  neurotic “overprotective” –and yeah, I was, too—(See “Uncontrollable Mothering.)

In the dark

In 2010— millions of people are still in the dark.  I don’t get it.

In 2010— it’s both ironic and absurd to think a tan is a sign of health;  when actually it’s the opposite.

Though small amounts of sun help to absorb vitamin D— worship of the sun is proven to be carcinogenic;  especially dangerous to young people;  a timebomb in our bodies that can cause a disease that has grown to epidemic proportions.

Sounds familiar….to anyone old enough to remember  before there were warnings on cigarettes—-back in the Dark Ages.

I was in the dark, too.  I grew up in Miami Beach spending every spare minute in the sun, roasting my skin to a golden tan, helping it along with reflectors and baby oil to deepen the color.  Who knew?

I didn’t see the light until my early 20’s.  That’s when I learned that my mom’s death at 41 had been due to malignant melanoma—the most serious form of skin cancer and one of the most vicious forms of any cancer.    It dawned on me—that my life-style was threatening my life.

Why I Choose You

My son’s 7^th birthday was the last day of life as we knew it— life as it was supposed to be.

I was a typical mom, holding all the strings that tie the family together….. absorbed in my kids and work and everything else on my  overflowing plate.  Like most busy moms, the last thing I had time for was me.  And then, suddenly it was all I could think about.

This picture was taken before I told my two kids about the journey we were about to begin. It was the day before I would lose my breast to a mastectomy and lose my long hair to chemotherapy.

Smiling on this day was the hardest thing I had ever done.

Cancer is the wake up call no one wants.  It forced me to do something I’d never done: to put myself and my health as my top priority.

It wasn’t a choice— it was an imperative.

Is blood thicker than water?

She’s the only person left on the planet who changed my diapers.   She remembers the day I was born.    She lives across the country; and I see her very rarely.

At 91, she moves a little slower and shakier—but she’s as sharp and salty as ever.   She calls to tell me off-color jokes; or to be sure I'm okay when California has another disaster.  She never fails to remember---and send a card---on every holiday, on my birthday, and my children's birthdays.  She reads like crazy but she doesn’t use a computer— and she has no idea that I recently wrote a post about how I wish I had more of my mother’s clothing.

So it was an amazing sign from the universe when I last saw her, she happened to bring along a dress of my mom’s that she wanted me to have.   I’m thrilled to have my mom’s dress; and  over the years she’s given me so much more.

Click: It's Mommy Time(s)

This is not about mommy taking off time -- for herself. This is about mommy taking on Times -- the New York Times -- after its recent controversial article about mommy bloggers..

Mommy bloggers who felt the article was condescending and insulting are making their cases in the modern version of the town hall meeting.

Mommy is mad as hell and she's not going to take it anymore.

 Though I don't know how many mommy bloggers would say they are feminists -- to me, this battle feels familiar.  Or maybe there's something about the New York Times as the voice of authority that pushes women's buttons.

Just in case

Just.  In.  Case.

Possibly the 3 words most often used by mothers.

Possibly the 3 words their kids least want to hear.

Recently my son  was packing up for a college semester abroad.   According to airline regulations,  his suitcase can’t weigh over 50 pounds—which forces him to weigh priorities.

So he makes a colossal mistake and asks me if I would help him organize for Buenos Aires.

Daniel is thinking shopping: i.e.  how many pairs of shoes to bring vs.  how many he will buy.

I have a different agenda.   For me this is an opportunity to open a line of conversation Daniel will wish never started…..that ends with a trip to Target and a call to a doctor and an addition to his luggage—– an emergency medical kit that I  insist suggest Daniel assemble—-containing everything anyone could possibly need from A (Afrin nasal spray) ….to Z (Zithromax Z- pack for a full course of antibiotics).

As a good son, he’s a good sport, though he refused a few of my suggestions.  Like— I thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring along an inhaler—although statistically there’s very little likelihood he would have an asthma attack —since he doesn’t have asthma.

Parting words

No cell phone.  No email.  No credit card.  No itinerary.

That’s how I went to Europe with a couple girlfriends the summer I was 19.     I had a suitcase, a Eurail pass, and a vague idea of where we were going.   The plans changed daily;  Air France lost my suitcase;  at least I hung onto the Eurail pass.

The only way to communicate with me was to send a letter to an American Express office in a city we might hit at some point.

My mother had just died of cancer the year before….my father, still grieving, didn’t hesitate to give his blessing (and money) for my trip.

I called home once.    I had planned to stay in Europe all summer,  but decided to add a week in Israel.   This wasn’t part of the deal, and I wanted my dad’ s okay.    And I needed it quickly, I told him from the phone in Rome’s airport,  because  “the flight is already boarding.”

He told that story for years.

It's a hard-knock life

Every family has its own set of problems and stressors.   But the truth is that for children in this country,  life is easy—- at least compared to the life of a Haitian orphan or Sudanese refugee.   Still, an easy life doesn’t mean an escape from emotional pain.  Stuff happens, usually things parents never sign up for.

That’s what happened to a young mother whose husband is going through rigorous and risky treatment for lymphoma.  In a recent post, she worries about the effect on her pre-teen kids:

The kids are both exhibiting signs of stress…… All of this is normal and expected. And all of it sucks. For them. For us.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that their father has cancer.

Life is not fair.

The day before

I don’t remember the day itself;  but I have a record of what I did.

It’s in this little journal  I kept through my first pregnancy.  It was a food diary someone gave me—-but I didn't want to humiliate myself and record what I consumed every day— instead I kept track of everything else.

Across the top of the page I wrote a status report:  February 1, 42 weeks, 10^th month.

More than 2 weeks overdue, by now I was jumping rope trying to get labor started.

Here’s some of what I wrote:

I saw the doctor.    He’s checking me in tomorrow morning at 7:30 a.m. to induce labor.

I’m 90% effaced and  4 cm. dilated.  Technically I’m already through most of early labor and I shouldn’t have much trouble tomorrow. ( Ha!  Famous last words…)

I’ve practically given up on nutrition and have been eating way too many Mrs. Fields’ cookies— though in honor of the baby’s health, I switched from  chocolate chip to oatmeal raisin.

I’m relieved, excited and just a little nervous.  It still feels so unreal…