Moms and Dads

We all have our to-do list. We couldn't live without it. And we all know the best part of a to-do list is the crossing out part. You cross an item off that ever present and interminable list and you feel, Ah... that sense of accomplishment. My to-do list almost always looks the same, with hardly anything crossed off ever. So I knew I had to do something. I, too, wanted that feeling of satisfaction, of accomplishment, the zing you get when you put that line throughout yet another item. With the holidays coming, I knew my list would get even longer. Which means there's less of a chance to get that wonderful crossed-out feeling. So I created my didn't-do list.

One of my surprisingly vivid childhood memories comes from my days as a short and mildly uncoordinated centerfielder for my Little League team. I would spend the majority of the games standing in the outfield eating my baseball glove and counting dandelions. Very little could snap me out of my outfield boredom trance. I would realize that it was our team's turn to bat when a guy in a different colored uniform would be standing next to me in the outfield. Yup, I was oblivious to the world. But I did notice Super Coach. Super Coach, as he was known by all the Little League parents, was a Little League father and coach, as well as a walking advertisement for his son, the Boy Wonder.

During a recent conversation with my mother, I discovered something amazing. Certain risks that I have taken in college, for better or worse, are things that she, the "been there, done that" Woodstock graduate, could not even fathom. So I decided to take a lighthearted look at the generation gap. In a nutshell: Things My Mom Did (in College) That I Would Never Dream of Doing: 1. Hard Drugs: Look, it was the sixties. That's what people did.

By Karen, age 21 Ugggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhh is the only thing that comes to mind when I think about my current relationship with my mom. Things just seem to get worse all the time. Everyone says raising teenagers is one of hardest parts of being a parent. But I feel bad for my parents now. For all those moms out there, with daughters in their early twenties, who may be displaying signs of this kind of conflict, please know two things... When I was a teenager, I was allowed to be a pain in the ass.

Turning 30 was a blast, turning 40 was a breeze and as I turned 50, I counted my blessings. Becoming a grandmother was a time of joy and fulfillment. So you see, I have no trouble with transitions. The one transition that troubled me however, was becoming a mother-in-law. What was my problem? My son married a wonderful girl who we love dearly. Clearly, the problem wasn't with the daughter-in-law, but I still felt very uncomfortable with my new role and title. Perhaps it was all the old mother-in-law jokes. I heard plenty of those jokes around the time of my son's wedding from well-meaning and not-so-well-meaning people. But my discomfort outlasted the jokes and I knew the problem ran deeper.

My mother is going into her retirement years with a bang. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light," said Dylan Thomas-- Nobody had to tell my mother. Click For the Full size Image A Martin Holt Original She went on a cruise to Alaska and met a man. Now they are an item. The man is 29. My mother is 59. My mother is never one to let petty things like age stand in her way. She has always had young friends. She has always known how to have a good time.

Upon the birth of my youngest child, my older daughter told me, "She is lucky to be born in this period of your life". There is a 17-year difference between my two daughters. I have often thought about this, and, over the years, have come to the conclusion that each one of our children is mothered according to where we are in our growth process when we give birth to that child. My three children are markers in my life, each representing a different period, and a turning point.

I think I was cleaning a bay window one scorching white July morning when it hit me: an extravagant sense of calm. I hadn't felt this embraced by stillness since early childhood, and it blew hotly into me like the weather outside. True to form, I was unable to accept this cosmic gift without questioning it. Why did peace of mind wash in with today's tide? Who granted me this favor? And did I deserve it? I looked at the calendar: July 31st. An anniversary - the loss of a much wanted almost-baby. I hadn't even thought of it in several weeks: I was busy, having just given birth to my beautiful "do-over." But my inner-calendar was right on schedule.

As a child, I would nestle my head in the nook of my mother's arm and inhale her love. It was the best and safest place in the world. Her smell, concentrated in her fleshy upper arms, was of warm bread, oriental spices, and, now I know, feminine musk. Up to today, and as long as I live, like Proust's Madeleine, I can close my eyes, invoke the smell, and here it is, my mother's gift - unconditional love. - Chantal Danino Holt, Marriage Center Coordinator * * * My mother's gift to me was self-confidence.

My Mom has given me lots of things. But when I look at my life and try to see how my mother has influenced it most, I always think of the same thing: her overriding concern for others. To my Mom, making everyone happy is what counts. The "little" things, like fancy birthday parties and big expensive presents, well, they're nice, but the yardstick she uses to judge an event is always this; did everyone walk away happy? Trying to make everyone happy is rarely easy. As a child, I hated always having to make everyone happy.

I had a burst of insanity last week. My friend, Jana, got a puppy. Her puppy was so cute, I decided I had to have one. Her sister from the same litter was available. Mother #4 is in touch with her inner dog. So now we have a dog. When we took the dog for his first checkup, the doctor gave us startling news. According to the vet, Jana's dog and my dog, born in the very same litter, have different fathers.

From my mother I learned how not to be perfect. Most of the other mothers were perfect. They scoured sinks. They checked the cuffs of their kids' pants so that they didn't bring home sand. They made their kids wash their hands before each time they ate. They prepared three course meals. Then there was my mother. We ate liverwurst sandwiches in her bed while we watched the Million Dollar Movie. My mother painted our fingernails and we opened the windows for wind to blow them dry.

I have been working only part-time (15-25 hrs. a week) since my little boy was born. He is now five years old, and I am going back to a full forty-hour workweek. He is, of course, in kindergarten for a couple of hours in the afternoons. Daddy will be taking care of him during the day--I won't be home until 5:15 PM or so. I have so many fears that he will be missing out on all our great times together (painting, sleigh riding, baking cookies, playing in the leaves, etc.. things I know Daddy is not likely to do with him.) I know I will miss it. Have you any recommendations for both of us on making this transition? A Trying to balance a full-time job and family is a constant challenge.

"I just can't seem to get a handle on things," says Donna, a full-time mother of three and full-time assistant manager at a popular restaurant. "It seems as though every day is harder than the next. My day goes out in all directions, nothing pieces together and every day is a crazy mess. I need help getting it together."Donna is not alone. All across the country, millions of people are trying to juggle parenthood, career and homemaking at the same time. As a personal organizer and full-time mom of three, I am constantly requested for help by busy parents who just can't seem to make everything "click" into place.

One of my surprisingly vivid childhood memories comes from my days as a short and mildly uncoordinated centerfielder for my Little League team. I would spend the majority of the games standing in the outfield eating my baseball glove and counting dandelions. Very little could snap me out of my outfield boredom trance. I would realize that it was our team's turn to bat when a guy in a different colored uniform would be standing next to me in the outfield. Yup, I was oblivious to the world. But I did notice Super Coach. Super Coach, as he was known by all the Little League parents, was a Little League father and coach, as well as a walking advertisement for his son, the Boy Wonder.

My own father was a quiet man. He owned a small business in a small town. He rose early every morning to open his liquor store in time to catch the first customers on the small main street that was the center of town. This was in the era before the mall took over the retail world and owning a store was the ticket to middle class stability. He'd get home about 8 or 9 at night, watch TV until 11 o'clock and go to sleep. About the only time I saw him was when I'd walk over to the "store." He'd give me a dime out of the cash register for some candy or hand me a Royal Crown cola from the icebox in the back of the store.

Growing up with my Dad was not always easy. As a shy child who always preferred to blend into the background and not be seen much less heard, it was hard to have a Dad who was always seen, always heard and never hesitated to say whatever was on his mind. Whether it was his opinion on politics or the latest pun that he made up, my Dad's voice could always be heard loud and clear at the park, in my school or at religious services. As a child this embarrassed me and as a young adult I tried to shrug it off as "not my problem.

So there I was, 49 years old, after a first failed marriage, with no children, and sure that parenting was a closed book for me. And then-- "Guess what you are getting for your 50th birthday"-- said the love of my life. "By the look in your eyes, it is something really special," I replied. "Yes, you are going to be a father." I was thrilled by the idea. But being an only child myself, what did I know about babies? During the next nine months I learned a lot. I read all the books including Childbirth for Men. I went to the pre-natal class and puffed and pushed down with the rest of the class. As the due date got closer, I rented a crib, a wicker basket on wheels, and set it up in our bedroom.

The gift my father gave me: The ability to laugh at anything. As an adult, every time I spoke to my father he told me the latest jokes he had heard, no matter how inappropriate. No matter if I was calling from across the continent. He had to share what he thought was funny. Which meant that my problems were not always taken so seriously. So that when I was in graduate school, suffering through finals, breaking up with a boyfriend and teaching undergraduates at my first job, and my father asked how I was doing and I said (not seriously) I felt like killing myself, his reply was: It won't help.

By Adina Buxbaum, 16 When I was 12 my mother got remarried. My stepfather says that I was very lucky because I got to be at my own mother's wedding. In the beginning, I did not feel that tickled. I was hesitant about the big step that my family (mom and 2 other sisters, both younger than me) was going to take. The meaning of my mother getting married was moving to a whole new place and moving into my stepfather's house. It also meant that I was being adopted into a whole new family of people I didn't know. My stepfather has four brothers and sisters, and four children of his own. Even two grandchildren. So my uneasiness was understandable. But now at the age of 16 my uneasiness is gone.

As I sat by your bedside, I thought about Two books you bought me. One of them, A Little Princess, was inscribed, "To my little princess." I was ten. The other, True Grit, was inscribed, "To my daughter, who has grit in abundance." I was seventeen. The lesson I learned from the first book was that a true princess knows how to give. The lesson I learned from the second book was to fight for life.

I am - was - a huge George Clooney fan. I used to call my husband in to watch Dr. Ross, because something this perfect had to be shared with a loved one. Until one day last year, when Jay Leno hosted Clooney on his show. Some of you may remember the episode. George was featured right before a group of quadruplet six-year-old girls. During the girls' interview, Clooney, as leading guest, remained onstage. I will never forget what he did when the giggly pink sisters first scrambled to sit themselves down: he very purposefully moved his chair WAY over, eyeing the noisy children suspiciously.

When I was 10, my father bought me a kimono. He was on a business trip and he came back with a powder blue, American gift shop cotton kimono. A robe, really, with an ethnic feel to it. I loved it, but it was too big. A woman's small. I still wore girls' sizes, but he didn't know that. It dragged on the floor. I left it in my closet. I tried it on again at 13. The length fit me better now, but it was too see-through. I hadn't noticed that at 10. Also, I was too fat.

My thoughts about my father usually veer toward what he didn't give me. Like time: I was born when he was 64. He died when I was 15. Or real fathering: He grew senile at the same time I became an adolescent. I don't remember sitting on his lap or playing catch or hiking or bicycling or doing any of those things kids with "normal" fathers did. But. My father had been a game-playing, star-gazing world-traveling cosmopolitan type of guy in his youth and he passed on his loves to all of us kids.

Q Dear WholeFamily Counselor, My husband doesn't like to spend a lot of time with our two-month-old son. I try to get him to, but he says he will when he gets old enough to play a little. I think they are both missing out now. What can I do about this? A You should know that your husband's reaction is actually quite common. Since a newborn cannot yet "do" anything, many fathers feel that the infant does not yet need fatherly interaction, just basic care.

Robin (38) and Max (40) have been married for 15 years. Robin is a stay-at-home mom who studied art and sometimes does silk screens-which she gives as special presents. Max is a corporate lawyer. They have three kids: Tanya is 12. Dylan is 10, and Amanda is 7. The family is coming home from a dinner at Max's boss's house early because Dylan (10) misbehaved. He poured a drink down his sister's shirt, and she started screaming. Max grabs Dylan by the hand: You are going to be in your room the rest of the night, Dylan.

Q Dear WholeFamily Counselor, My husband doesn't like to spend a lot of time with our two-month-old son. I try to get him to, but he says he will when he gets old enough to play a little. I think they are both missing out now. What can I do about this? A You should know that your husband's reaction is actually quite common. Since a newborn cannot yet "do" anything, many fathers feel that the infant does not yet need fatherly interaction, just basic care.

"I'd like to be more involved with my kids." "I'm afraid of holding the baby and that bothers me. You know, I wouldn't even mind changing his diaper once in a while!" "I want my kids to feel closer to me than I felt towards my father." Well, as psychologists involved in child development, all we can say is - Great! Both mothers and fathers can provide rich experiences for their children and each can use his or her unique personality and style to enhance each child's development.

Q I am so glad I found this web site. I am in a terrible situation. My husband is a "loud," yelling person. He thinks that this kind of discipline works. It just makes things worse in our home. We have two children. Our son is 12 and our daughter is 11. The yelling has been going on for years and now our children yell, especially our son. There is so much anger in the home. I am looking into family therapy for my children and myself. My spouse will not go.

Dear WholeMom, What shall I do with a mother-in-law who lies and turns everything around to make herself look good and me bad in front of the rest of her children? Had Enough Dear Had Enough, Conflicts between in-laws are as old as the state of marriage! Adam and Eve were probably the only couple who never had trouble with in-laws. (Hey, who was God going to get in conflicts with - himself?) It is a rare mother-in-law who can watch her daughter/son create a new family cell with another person without experiencing a sense of loss.

Come closer. I have a secret to tell you - a medical finding they won't be showing you on the Discovery Channel. It's the Y chromosome again, only this one is way better than baldness. It's called the Night Filter Avoidance Device (N-FAD) and it works like this. Man stumbles into kitchen from TV room. Woman is preparing lunches, washing floor, putting in laundry, making a shopping list and preparing a presentation which she'll give tomorrow to the CEO of her company. She is doing all of these things at the same time. Man says something which sounds like "ghttHYYhnsmgrrrrommdtasgsh," which actually means "I am too tired to do the dishes that I promised to do three hours ago because I had to watch David Letterman but I will probably do them tomorrow morning if there is a blizzard and I don't have to go in to work.

If anything in our society has truly become equal opportunity in the '90's, it has to be parenthood. We are slowly being introduced to a new family order where our functions as parents are not dictated by maternal or paternal inclinations but rather by a sharing of all duties. The jobs and responsibilities of child rearing in the 90's are no longer delineated by gender but by availability and proximity. Diaper changes are decided by the "Who smelled it first" dictum, and not by the "My father never did this so why should I?" defense of years gone by. Even the laws of nature are being challenged and changed. It is well known that the ears of the adult male are genetically not sensitive enough to hear the cries of a newborn baby in the middle of the night; the females' highly developed elbow to the stomach has made nighttime wakings by the newborn a team event rather than the sole responsibility of the frazzled new mother.

Everyone was excited when I came home from the hospital with our fifth child. Fifth child! You'd think that everyone in the family was used to the noise already, the sharing, and the conflicting schedules. Perhaps this baby would slip right in, into all those welcoming hands. But standing alone on the side of the room was my "baby" - my two-year-old son who had only recently started leaving me in the mornings. It was time to go back to my two favorite experts on children, Penelope Leach and Haim Ginot, to get another dose of what it feels like to be pushed out of babyhood. I remember the first time I read that, to a child, bringing home a new sibling is like a husband telling a wife (or the other way around) that he will soon be bringing another wife home.

Dear WholeFamily Counselor, My husband and I can't seem to get along. For a while he went through a period of months of staying away from home and when he was home we either fought or he was asleep. He has sleep apnea and it seems chronic. He has a doctor that he sees for it and uses a cap machine but he won't wear it. You can tell when he doesn't as his sleep is affected. We have five children and this is also hurting them. I know I can push his buttons and I'm trying not to but it makes me mad that he seems to take no responsibility for anything. He does work and is a very good provider but he does not spend any time with the children or me. He fusses with me as if he wants to pick a fight.