NYC Moms

Makeover Intervention Needed NOW

After I was laid off last year and given the rather sad job market, I decided to start a blog to enhance my social media skills which was a gap on my resume. Who knew, I would end up enjoying writing about my crazy life raising my daughter as a single mom in New York City, or best of all, get invited to cool events where I met other great mom (and dad) bloggers while I job searched. 

Of course, looking on the positive side to being unemployed, I was able to spend more time with my daughter. I love being able to drop her off at school without having to rush off to work and not having to juggle the gazillion babysitters for pick up so I could work late. And of course, I now have the time to work on getting healthier by going to the gym. 

The flip side to all this is that writing and job searching is a solitary experience. Since I am not married or have a significant person in my life, it's just my daughter and me. And because I don't have to go to the office in business attire, my wardrobe consists of sweat pants, a white t-shirt, sneakers and no make-up, not even lipstick. 

Family music

When my children were younger, we were often subjected to the same music, over and over. Hallie had an unhealthy relationship with Barney and Sela had an unfortunate attachment to a Madeleine audiotape (with horrendous intro music). But my older girls are of a generation that actually HAD cassette tapes, and part of the beauty of them was that they eventually wore out.  Just when we couldn’t take it anymore, the tape would break and we won a reprieve.

Nora was in love with a tape from her Music Together class. Shortly after she started the class, teachers started handing out CDs, but we had the tape. She cried for it every time we were in the car, and the other girls were so repulsed by it that we ‘accidentally’ ripped the tape.

With CDs, you are stuck. If your child wants to listen to the soundtrack from Hannah Montana over and over, an indestructible CD means you are stuck.

The Disciplinarian

I’m not a good disciplinarian.  I try not to make empty threats and maintain my authority but the chasm between theory and practically is at times insurmountable for an exhausted mother of two. 

My pediatrician suggested I start giving my fifteen-month-old time outs.  “But he’s perfect,” my husband said oblivious to the times that he climbs on my lap and bangs the keyboard distorting the computer screen.  The doctor said it was about teaching him to respect me when I say No and teach him to handle disappointment therefore I should give the little guy time outs in the crib.  According to the medical professional there is no fear of creating a negative association with the crib.  Nonetheless, a flight of slippery stairs separate our living area from the bedrooms, so a time-out for my toddler punishes me as well.  Instead I threaten the time-out, which has actually worked or put the little guy in the stroller.  Usually he climbs out except for the time that he was tired and content, especially when his sister pushed him around.  

Humor in the Sorrow

The other day the local Lexus dealer called my mom’s house.  According to its records her lease was due to expire.  I explained how my mom passed away and Toyota Financial has insisted we buy the automobile for the total value of the lease and previously agreed upon buyout price.  I did not ask why the dealer did not offer my mom, a woman with self-proclaimed Stage VIII cancer a.k.a. two stage IVs the death insurance option when she signed the lease nor did I discuss how Toyota was so unwilling to negotiate the buyout price when other creditors were. 

 

“You bought the car?” the dealer asked.

 “Yes, I had to.”

 "So it all worked out.”

 “Except for the fact that she died.”  I smiled subversively. 

Sibling Birthday Party Invite Protocol

 Last week, I received an invite for a birthday party for one of my daughter's first grade classmates. No, the invite was not for the classmate which would have made sense but for the classmate's sister. 

I did a double take and had to read the note twice because it made no sense to me. First of all, I barely know the mother as the father does drop off and I mean drop offs.  He, literally, drops the little girl off at class and bolts, no hello, no eye contact, nada.  I can't tell if it's cultural, if it's him (dad drop offs are another post) or he hates making small talk.  

Since the father does drop off, I have never seen the little sister as I am assuming that she is with the mother or is at another school, who knows, I did not even know the little girl had a sibling until the birthday invite came. 

Oh, Sandy

I've had it with all the Oscar-curse talk.  A woman wins the most coveted award for Best Actress and her marriage falls apart.  The implication of the curse is that there is a connection between the two, perhaps even a causal relationship. The victims of this curse so far are  Halle Berry, Gwynneth Paltrow, Julia Roberts, Reese Witherspoon, Kate Winslet and Sandra Bullock.  Hillary Swank, too, although apparently it took two Oscars for the curse to rear its head.  I am also unclear why Jennifer Anniston isn't using Oscars as paperweights at this point.  It's enough to make me glad that I'm not talented.

House rules

Like every family, we have certain rules. No elbows on the table, all homework done before TV or Facebook,  and credit cards not cash.

If that last one seems odd, it is for their protection.  I got my older daughters cards, linked to my account, when they were 14.  They didn’t have to carry much cash that way, safer when they were on the subway or walking alone.

And, the credit card company backs their purchases.  Once you pay cash, even if you have a receipt, you are at the store’s mercy if something goes wrong.

Something has gone wrong.  I am partly to blame, (why is the mother always at fault?) but still…

How to scare moms

I am the evil mother of three, whose strict parenting standards become more lax as my kids age.   My kids corrupt yours.  My youngest child is 6 years younger than her oldest sister, so things that we might not have allowed the first time around now seem OK to us now. 

For example, the elementary school they attended allowed kids to go out to lunch, starting in fourth grade, with parental approval.  Hallie lobbied for this right away, but we were reluctant – she was only 10, she was so little, she was so vulnerable.  But she wore us down and we started allowing her out once, then twice a week.

Sela, two grades younger, also wanted to go out to lunch when her turn came, and at the beginning of the year, we gave her permission to go out two times a week.  By the middle of the year, she was going out every day.

By the time Nora was in fourth grade, we weren’t even reading the notices anymore.  I signed a piece of paper and apparently gave her permission to go out every day from the get go.  Considering the fact that we often had nothing prepared for lunch, this was a defense strategy for Nora – she had to get some food.

So last week, when Sela had no school, I suggested that she take the ski train to Thunder Ridge.  When I was in high school, we skied all the time without our parents.  Enterprising high school students on Long Island arranged day ski trips, by bus, to Vernon Valley Great Gorge (now Mountain Creek) or Hunter; they skied free and we had an unsupervised day of skiing.  It seemed perfectly acceptable to me to send a group of 16 year old girls to ski alone.  But the other moms didn’t feel the same way.  Perhaps because their daughters are the oldest, they are more protective, but I started feeling like an overly permissive mom who does not keep track of her kids' whereabouts.

Hitting the Pause Button

I am a fidgeter.  I can't help it.  I never had a hangnail I could not ignore.  Recently I picked at on one on my pinky, and picked and picked.  And I am embarrassed to admit this led to a fungus infection, a surprisingly painful throbbing and eventually the loss of about half of my fingernail.  It's still growing in and yet I cannot help but exam and trim it everyday and I still cannot ignore a hangnail.  A similar unrelated issue on my pinky toe was less tempting because it was covered most of the day.  

Man (child) v Dog

Every so, like the change in hemlines, comes a new trend in parenting.   We have attachment parenting, helicopter parenting, child-centered parenting, green,  breast-feeding, enlightened.

Now we have parents treating their kids like dogs.

Ok, maybe that’s a bit extreme.  They aren’t feeding the kids kibble and putting them on leashes..

Scratch that.  Some parents ARE putting their kids on leashes, but that’s a safety issue.  And they call it a harness, not a leash.  No, what I’m referring to is parents using the Dog Whisperer’s technique to teach their children who is boss.

My friend was telling me the other day about a 12 year old boy at a local private school who had been arrested for selling pot.  The mom told my friend, ‘I just can’t control him.  I’ve never been able to.’  I think too many parents today get so involved in their children’s lives that they forget the parenting aspect.  Our job, among other things, is to set limits.  I don’t think we need the master/servant relationship the Dog Whisperer espouses, but our children have to understand that no means no.