DotMoms

DotMoms Daily: When daddy's a better mommy, Donors in diapers, and more

Image: MSNBC.com

In family-related news:
> My husband is a better mother (Self/MSNBC)
> GI Jane: Some mothers having to choose kids or country (ABC)
> Child care workers in NYC vote to unionize (NYTimes)
> China told to stop blame game for toy safety (Reuters)
> As campaigns chafe at limits, donors might be in diapers (WashPost)
> Children's health yields to the senators from Pork (WashPost)
> Cold drug debate could take years to shake out (MSNBC)
> Teen smokers 5 times more likely to drink (AP/MSNBC)
   Related: Report links teen smoking, depression (WebMD/CBS)
> Wind and fire: One family's escape (Time)

DotMoms Daily: Cold medicine confusion, Dumbledore gay, and more

Image: Paul Sakuma, AP

In family-related news:
> Parents perplexed by cold medicine advice (MSNBC)
   Related: FDA panel urges ban on kids' cold medicine (NYTimes)
> Depression, anxiety tied to allergies in kids (Reuters)
> U.S. health experts seek to calm schools over superbug (Reuters)
> School meals getting healthier (AP/CBS)
> Wal-Mart recalls animal toy sets for lead (AP/MSNBC)
> Rowling says Dumbledore is gay (ABC)
> Adolescents need support during family breakups (Reuters)

DotMoms Daily: Stepmonsters, teen health, and more

Image: David Chelsea, The New York Times

In family-related news now:
> UNICEF says child deaths down sharply since 1990 (Reuters)
> Consumers could face higher toy prices (AP/ABC)
> How I turned into a stepmonster (NYTimes)
> My so-called gossipy life (NYTimes)
> Credit card companies woo teens with plastic (NPR)
> Teen girls on a diet more likely to smoke (Reuters)
> Teens' unhealthy weight hurts later fertility (Reuters/MSNBC)
> Binge drinking particularly risky for teens (Reuters)
> In high school football, an injury no one sees (NYTimes)

DotMoms Daily: First comes love, then comes marraige, and more

Photo: UCR.edu

In family-related news now:
> To be happy in marriage, baby carriage not required (WashPost)
   Related: As marriage and parenthood drift apart, public concerned about social impact (Pew)
> Depression in kids of divorce blamed on genes (MSNBC)
> Anyone up for stickball? In a PlayStation world, maybe not (NYTimes)
> Does Harry Potter have migraines? (WebMD/CBS)

Marriage is hard work

By Robin P.

"Guess who's getting divorced?" I asked my husband Rich, sadly. He thought for a moment and then named one of my friends. I was stunned. "How did you know?" I was completely floored that he would've guessed this particular couple. He was silent for a moment and then said quietly, "I was kidding."

Of the eight weddings Rich and I have been to over the past 13 years, five of them have ended in divorce. My marriage could have been one of them.

In 2003, Rich announced he didn't want to be married anymore and he was leaving. It came out of nowhere to me, and I was absolutely stunned. Sure we had problems, who didn't? I thought couples just worked them out. I was willing to try counseling again but Rich didn't want to.

One month later we moved out of the house we were renting. Lillianna and I moved into an apartment and Rich moved in with his friend down the street from us. It was one of the worst times in my life. I thought we'd be together forever. Apparently forever was only going to be nine years.

After six months, Rich said he was willing to try counseling again. Luckily, our new therapist was wonderful and he helped to save our marriage. It hasn't been an easy road, but we both know that we love each other and we want to make our marriage better than it's ever been.

I jokingly blame my parents for making me think marriage was easy. Growing up, our house was filled with music, laughter and love. I would often find Dad sneaking up on Mom to give her a hug while she was cooking. They were frequently snuggled up on the couch or in bed watching TV. They didn't fight. Mom occasionally rolled her eyes at Dad when he did something she disapproved of, but what wife hasn't done that?

I know their life was not perfect, but they made it look effortless. Maybe that's why I didn't think my marriage would be as much work as it has been.

There were times, especially during our separation, when I felt guilty about the effect this was having on Lillianna. She was only five years old at that time and it was so difficult for her. Now, at 9 years old, she can see the daily struggles that Rich and I are going through but I think it's healthy for her.

I think Lillianna is learning that marriage isn't all about the wedding cake and the presents. It's losing a job and trying to pay the bills, caring for a sick spouse, encouraging each other when one wants to try a new career, raising a child together and loving one another in good times and bad.   

I am so glad that Rich and I are still together, but I am very sad for our friends who are struggling with divorce or the aftermath of divorce. I can see how difficult it is for them and for their children.

Some of these divorces were mutual, but some were not and that makes it even more difficult for the spouse who didn't want to end the marriage. For those friends, I pray that their hearts will heal quickly and that they will be able to move on.

Robin P. lives with her husband and daughter in a suburb south of Boston.

Being Alone: Single Mom 101

By Amy R.

Being alone has never been easy for me. I've always had some sort of relationship, whether it was a boyfriend or a husband, and now boyfriends again. I guess I always thought I needed someone to define me, someone who would complete the parts of me I felt were missing. 

I recently went through a break-up with a man I truly loved. Well, when I say that, I mean I truly THINK I loved him. He was kind to me. He was fun to be with. He loved baseball as much as I did. And when I was with him, I wasn't alone.

Then comes the break-up. It isn't like I have never been broken up with. It isn't like I haven't ever suffered heartbreak or sobbing fits. But this time, the breakup is affecting me differently. I'm realizing why my relationships don't work, and why I shouldn't be ashamed of that.

So what does this have to do with being a mom? Here comes the kicker: Since my divorce I've been in TWO serious relationships. Out of those two, NEITHER of the men involved wanted to be involved with my child. 

I have a firm rule that I established when I decided to start dating again. I was not going to introduce Isabelle to any man I dated until I was positive that he would be around for a while. She has not spent a large amount of time with either of my relationships since I made that promise to myself. Why? Well, the first one hated kids; he didn't want any of his own and he SURE didn't want to raise anyone else's. He felt they were money-sucking creatures who cried too much and demanded way more. He wanted me to pack my bags, move across the country, and live a pretty secure life with him, on one condition: I leave my daughter behind. I dumped him.

Now, this yearlong relationship I've been in is coming to a close. This man has spent maybe five hours with Isabelle (not including two car rides of an hour each) in that year. Why? Well, he was very gruff. He was one of those "made for TV stepfathers" whose irritation or strictness would cause the mother in the movies to say, "Honey, you know how angry that makes *enter name here* when you do that. Please stop." I didn't want Isabelle subjected to that. I wanted her to be a child. 

My newest ex-boyfriend had two children of his own, but they were older and they were both boys.  He couldn't relate to a girl, never mind one who was 3 and had divorced parents. So I kept the two separate. 

My custody arrangement is one week on, one week off and we trade on Sundays. So when I had Isabelle, I did not see my boyfriend. He had his kids those same weekends, and it worked out well. I didn't have to worry about them getting along, and I could spend real quality time with my child.

Now that I rationally look back, though, my relationship was doomed from the beginning. Isabelle will always be the most important part of my life and any other part that tries to take me away from that should be eliminated.

But I hated being alone. I hated not having that romantic connection in my life. What I've realized is that I can't settle for a romantic connection that jeopardizes my relationship with my daughter. 

So I may have to eat alone this weekend and watch tear-jerker movies by myself, but when my daughter grows up, she'll realize her mother was a strong woman who made decisions based on the love of the person that counted most: her.

Amy R. is the 30-year-old mother of Isabelle. She is a high school teacher who lives in Livermore Falls, Maine, and is trying to find the funny side of life as a newly divorced mom.

Bad mom, Good mom

By Amy R.

As a divorced mom, it's easy for me to question my parenting skills when comparing them to my daughter's father. Over e-mail, there have been certain question and answer sessions where I'm questioned on different parenting techniques. I sat down one day and listed the "Good Mom/Bad Mom" list.

Bad Mom:

I go through the Dunkin' Donuts drive thru every Friday (that I have her -- so every other Friday) and get her a chocolate donut for her breakfast.

I let her pick out one candy bar per grocery shopping session (once a week that I have her -- so every other week).

I have brought her to a fast food restaurant when I was traveling on the turnpike between her father's house and mine.

I have her enrolled in a daycare without fancy swimming lessons or pre-school sessions. 

I've given her chocolate milk.

Good Mom:

I get out of work before 3 every day, pick Isabelle up from daycare and we spend the afternoon together. At least one hour an afternoon is spent playing with her letter and number flashcards and writing letters out on her easel.

Isabelle and I have dinner together every night. On the nights that we go to my parents, we have an even better dinner atmosphere with her Grammy and Papa.

I have Isabelle enrolled in a daycare where there are four kids at home with the daycare provider all day long. She has learned manners, social skills, and her daycare provider TRULY knows Isabelle and loves her. I'm so lucky to have someone so caring and loving taking care of my child when I'm not there.

I immerse Isabelle in family. We spend as much time as possible with my parents and siblings so that Isabelle realizes that having a mom and dad together isn't the only definition of family; families come in all different shapes and sizes.

I have a good relationship with my daughter. She feels free to talk to me about anything that is on her mind without fear of ridicule, harsh discipline or meanness. She is truly herself around me, and I'm glad I've fostered that with her.

I read to Isabelle a lot. She loves it as much as I do, and it gives me an excuse to cuddle.

As I look back at my list, I realize that I can live with the "Bad Mom" stuff, because if those are the worst things I do as a parent, I'm doing pretty well. Don't you think?

Amy R. is the 30-year-old mother of Isabelle. She is a high school teacher who lives in Livermore Falls, Maine, and is trying to find the funny side of life as a newly divorced mom.

Difficult questions after a divorce

By Amy R.

"Mama, do you like Suzy*?"

My mind froze. I don't know how long I expected it would take before my daughter asked me my thoughts on my ex-husband's new wife-to-be. We had random conversations about Suzy's house or about things that Isabelle did with her father, Suzy, and Suzy's son. I guess I just hoped to continue ignoring the fact that Isabelle had another person in her life that wasn't really a part of mine.

I'm not a bitter person. I mean, there are times when I call Suzy "what's her face" or "that woman" to my friends or co-workers, but to Isabelle, she's always Suzy. I don't roll my eyes, talk badly, sarcastically, or bitterly about Suzy or my ex. I figure that it's not only unhealthy for Isabelle to see that part of me, but I also don't want to influence her. I want her to make decisions on her own and the happier those decisions are, the better.

I am so grateful that Isabelle has a home with her father that is full of love and acceptance and that Suzy's parents seem to have accepted Isabelle as one of their own. I am so thankful that Isabelle doesn't have to feel left out or forgotten because of another child (her age) in the house. Suzy loves my daughter, and as much as my relationship with my ex is distant and cold, I can only show appreciation in my own heart for my daughter being so fortunate in both her homes.

Do I sometimes worry that Isabelle will like Suzy better than me or that the home that her father makes with her will be deemed "better" than mine? You bet I do. But I think that's pretty normal and expected. So every time that worry flashes through my mind, I remind myself that my bond with my daughter is one that can't be replaced with remarriage or additional people. We're a family unit within ourselves, and she knows who her mother is.

So after I pull myself together, I smile at Isabelle and say, "I don't really know Suzy, but you like her right?" She nods and runs back to play with her Polly Pockets, oblivious to the struggle that sometimes fills my mind.

How do those of you in similar situations handle questions like that?

*names changed to protect identities

Amy R. is the twenty-something mother of Isabelle. She is a high school teacher who lives in Mexico, Maine, and is trying to find the funny side of life as a newly divorced mom.

Separation Anxiety

by Anjali

When Mira picked up the photo box, dozens of pictures spilled out, all of them taken before my husband and I had either children or a digital camera. Mira sifted through, delighted to recognize so many faces, though many of them lacked the creases of crows feet and stray bits of gray hair they have today. My daughter stopped short at one picture of a young couple dancing under a large, white tent, surrounded by white Christmas lights and spherical lanterns.

The woman, with her young, fresh, friendly face, was in the middle of an awkward dance move. The man, his body facing hers, was my cousin. His face was a bright, almost cartoonish red, the result of either too much sun earlier that day, or the sheer embarrassment at having his picture taken. Despite the discomfited moment, it was evident that the happy couple was enjoying themselves immensely. But a few years after the picture was taken, my cousin and his wife called it quits and divorced.

Since making my own wedding vows nearly nine years ago, I’ve learned the truth about all that stuff that comes after the wedding cake is cut, and the DJ has played the last song, and the limo has driven away with streamers flowing back in the wind, and the honeymoon is over. No marriages are immune to disruption. No relationships are foolproof. Rare is the love that is wholly unconditional. And, in many cases when a couple has split, no one is entirely to blame.

Most importantly, I’ve learned that the arrival of children, though wonderful and positively life-changing, puts a stress on a marriage that no one tells you about when you are registering for the Diaper Genie, or knitting booties, or wallpapering that “cow jumps over the moon” border in the perfectly pale yellow nursery. No one warns you that when you are up all night with a colicky baby, that you will, in fact, hate the person that you used to eagerly share showers with. Or that you will someday loathe looking your partner in the eye after he or she returns from a productive and rewarding day at work, while you wore a shirt soaked in vomit and cried from exhaustion. Or that when the baby you labored with for 36 hours is born, and isn’t quite as beautiful as you imagined, you wonder whether you should have married someone with different DNA.

My friends’ divorces have been, if anything, humbling for me. Their separations are not the result of too little love or affection or too little patience, a lack of values (whatever that might mean), or the inability to “stick it out” long enough. Rather, my marriage, above all, has been one of good fortune. When it comes to many of life’s greatest pains, the ones that put the highest amounts of stress on a long-term relationship. My husband and I have simply been damn lucky enough to avoid many of them altogether. I wish the couples that have meant so much to us in our lives could have been even half as lucky.

Once Mira was through her dumping, sifting, and sorting of photographs and skipped out of the room, I sat myself on the hardwood floor surrounded by the scattered images of our loved ones. I found the picture of my cousin and his former wife and tried to glean from it any signs indicating a future disintegration of their marriage. I then remembered what inspired me to take that particular shot on that stifling hot summer day in the first place -- the hope that a framed photograph of the pure, unadulterated silliness of their poses, the sparkling happiness that lit their eyes, and the deep affection for one another evident in their laughing smiles, would make a good wedding anniversary gift for them some day.

Anjali lives in suburban Philadelphia with her husband and two daughters.

My X and My Ex

by Laurie

My friends tell stories about their dreamed-of weddings, their perfect children. These are dreams they’ve had since childhood. Girlfriends pictured the dress, the centerpieces, the honeymoon, the band. Inevitably, their dreams can be found lacking. They mourn their absence.

I never saw myself married. Never with children. Instead, I was That Girl, living in New York City with her rather pathetic but somehow loveable boyfriend, Donald. My dreams are lacking too. I mourn its absence.

And now that I live in the suburbs and drive what some teenage friends refer to as a mom-car, I am both confounded and moved by the reality of my life. My boys, three and seven, are funny, smart, intuitive, and just like their father.

I loved their father, but I do not love him anymore. I love my children. Period. End stop. I love, love, love my children. They are my life and my death, my sunrise and sunset, they are my reason for getting out of bed. But they look just like they father. I do not love him.

How to resolve this? How to come to the space in my mothering that enables me to feel all encompassing everything-ness for these stunning boys when they so remind me of someone who decided he didn’t love me anymore?

We look at pictures. Me and the girlfriends who have gathered so protectively – and fearfully – around me. They are all thinking it, but I am the one who needs to speak it: they look like him. The women agree, mournfully, cautiously. My ex is no longer himself, he is unlike the man I fell in love with, we all agree. But still. My boys have his eyes, his talents, his posture. I think of this constantly. I think of it not-so-much.

They are creatures who are new and improved – my ex, with my X. A dream made manifest.

Laurie lives with her mischievously charming three and seven-year-old boys in Beverly, MA.