Working from home, I have found that my days are filled with an incredible amount of pressure from my coworkers. They position themselves close by my desk and rarely take their eyes off me. And when I get up to use the bathroom or go down to the kitchen, they follow close behind. If you're a pet owner, I'm sure you've already deduced that my stalkers are four-legged and that they've got nothing better to do. Watching me is their hobby. Heck, for the cat I think she sees it as a full-time job. She's the one that sits and stares at me while I use the bathroom and while it's unnerving, I go …
My kids hate my job. Check that: my kids are dubious that being the editor of an online news source even qualifies as a real job when it’s happening from a desk in my bedroom. To them, it makes no difference whether I’m writing about an arrest or if I’m posting “LOL!” on Facebook. As far as they’re concerned, my focus is on my laptop and not on them. And it’s been a struggle this first year of working at home, trying to set boundaries and not letting my work bleed into time I should be spending with my family. So one of my New Year’s resolutions, next to getting more organized about my …
I would like to shine the spotlight on a disability of sorts that I have struggled with my entire life. Unlike other very real and well documented challenges that so many of us are faced with, my particular issue has not yet made it onto the radars of those in the medical community. I am offering myself up as the poster child. I suffer from sportslexia, a serious and debilitating condition that has rendered me completely unable to follow the athletic action on a court or field. The ball is snapped into play and it’s like my eyes just start to spiral and I don’t know where to look. I have had …
Since my ex moved out over two years ago, I’ve had a constantly rotating schedule of bed partners. Some of them steal all of the covers and kick me with their long legs, while others are so short that their presence barely registers in my king-size bed. What’s that, you ask? Am I some type of little person-loving, Chelsea Handler type? Have I joined the ranks of the Moms Gone Wild divorced gals? Sadly, or perhaps happily, it is usually one of my four kids who have staked his or her claim on the coveted spot beside me each night. Often, I come home late from an endless municipal meeting to …
I dropped my third child off at sleep away camp for two weeks on Sunday and as I drove away, I had an overwhelming urge to weep, and it wasn’t because I was devastated to leave her (although she is my faithful companion). I wanted to cry because we shared a ride with our neighbors, who were dropping their two kids off for the two weeks and as we pulled away, I don’t know how they managed to refrain from breaking out into a halleluiah chorus or high fives, at the very least. But they are wonderful friends and saved the celebratory gestures until they got home to their very quiet, and very kid-…
Here are some things that I would invent if I could just find the time: a self-cleaning refrigerator; zero-calorie Chardonnay and rubber cars for my teenage drivers. The first two items would significantly improve my standard of living while the bouncy cars would help keep in check my steadily increasing car insurance premium. Since my oldest child got his driver’s license almost two years ago, and his sister this past March, there have been a total of four claims made through our auto insurance carrier (you’re welcome, Mr. USAA and all his stockholders). I’ve watched my daughter, flush with …
The other night, as I worked through the horror of discovering I could not access my On Demand feature through Verizon (curse them) and watch another naughty episode of Game of Thrones on HBO, I found myself scrolling through the guide until another show caught my eye. I clicked “Ok” and found myself engrossed, and slightly repelled, by the 1975 documentary Grey Gardens. It’s a cautionary tale of an aging mother and daughter living in abject squalor in a sprawling East Hampton shingled mansion, as their tale of broken dreams, with a side dish of crazy, unspools before the camera. Edith “Big …
I’ve read that the Mommy Wars were over; that both the stay at home and working moms have ultimately concluded that neither camp is perfect—you’re facing mixed emotions and potential time in therapy regardless of the path you take. Sure, we moms have our share of differences. Some of us like to nurse our babies long enough that the child can walk up and pull up our shirt; while others would prefer to scatter Cheerios and bits of American cheese on a tray in front of her child and call it dinner. There are moms who like to have the Today Show playing in the kitchen during breakfast, bringing …
As the mother of four children, one of whom is legally an adult (a term I would use loosely as he is eligible to vote and serve our country but struggles making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich), I feel immensely qualified making the following statement: children are like pancakes. You know how when you make pancakes, the first few are just never quite right? They’re either overdone or a little too raw. Then the pan heats up to just the right temperature and your third and fourth batches produce nicely browned cakes? That’s how it is with kids, too (metaphorically speaking since my kids …
I became a parent in the prehistoric age when it seemed that only people who received a paycheck for their jobs had that nifty little item called a cell phone (in other words, not stay-at-home-moms like me at the time). I did have the very high-tech call waiting feature on my home phone and eventually, caller ID, but if I was out at the library or the grocery store, or even the backyard pushing someone on the swing, you weren’t going to get in touch with me. Before I finally got a phone, probably around 2000, there were a few instances that I’d return home to find messages from the school …
For most of their lives, my children have had the luxury of me acting as their Wing-mama. If they forgot their gym clothes, homework, instrument or after school snack, I generally would be available to run the errant item over to the school. If they were feeling slightly under the weather during the school day, and by that I mean either sick or perhaps just sad about one thing or another, I would fetch them and bring them home. And after school let out, I would pile them in the car—with their granola bars, juice boxes and equipment—and shuttle them around to soccer, CCD, dance or swimming, …
The wait is over. April 1 has come and gone and I have to say, it’s been a little anticlimactic. For years, I’d been anticipating what it would be like to make it through the college admissions process. Would it be like labor? Would I require deep breathing (three hee’s and a haw) to get me through the most painful parts of the ordeal? Would there be sedatives involved (or at the very least, lots of chardonnay)? In the end, it really didn’t hurt so much, and I think that was in large part due to my decision early on to back off. Or maybe it’s when my dear son suggested I do the same. …
Fellow moms, are you feeling a tiny bit under appreciated? Do your efforts go unnoticed and unrewarded? Are you working long hours, either late at night or early in the morning, to finish up the laundry and do away with dirty dishes? This might not be the perfect time to suggest this—as organized labor could soon go the way of the ERA in this country—but moms, I propose we form a union. Frankly, I can’t believe I’m actually suggesting unionizing, but if ever there was a need for a group of underpaid and overworked workers to join together to improve their lot (I believe the original intent of…
If I won the lottery tomorrow—I’m talking seven figures—I would immediately book my hair girl to give me a blow out twice a week, buy myself a pied-a-terre in Greenwich Village and hire a personal chef. Due to screwy priorities, college costs, retirement and donating to worthy causes show up a bit further down on my wish list. The apartment would create a little escape hatch from the monotony of suburbia (although I’m sure it can get monotonous living in the city, too). The constant hair washing and drying just annoys me and I’d like to subcontract the work if money’s no object. And the chef …
As the last bars of Britney Spears’ “3” faded and another pop song began during spin class last Sunday morning, my fellow spinner, Linda, said, “Ugh, that song is disgusting.” What did she mean? Wasn’t Britney, like, practicing dancing or something in the song? I had never paid close attention to the lyrics, other than the “1-2-3” refrain that loops throughout. “It’s about having a threesome,” Linda shouted over the music. “You know, a ménage a trois.” And sure enough, when I got home to Google the lyrics, the former Mouseketeer is apparently looking for some harmless fun and implores two …
Hi, my name is Amy, and I’m a compulsive volunteer. My addiction started innocently enough with a little baking. From there I moved on to a few stints as a class mother and then some of the heavier stuff—organizing a luncheon and a few book fairs. Before I knew it, I’d gotten out of control, serving as PTO co-president (while pregnant with my fourth child) and running for the local school board. I’ve been an editor of a preschool newsletter, a chaperone on overnight class trips and part of a budget awareness committee. I’ve collected backpacks and supplies for Hurricane Katrina victims, …
When I was pregnant with my first child, I resolved to be a certain type of mother: hands on, self-sacrificing and ever vigilant. Lord, I was ambitious, not to mention energetic. I threw myself into breastfeeding, enduring several rounds of thrush and a clogged milk duct, in my almost hysterical need to provide only the best nutrition for my infant. I went on to nurse the next three babies as well, withstanding moments of terrible pain and becoming the sole-source of nutrition for long stretches, so much so that the baby would look at me and open his mouth. Let’s not even go down the sleep …
Moms Talk is a new feature on Patch that is part of an initiative on our sites to reach out to moms and families. Patch invites you and your circle of friends to help build a community of support for mothers and their families right here in Monmouth County. Each week in Moms Talk, we pose an issue and look to our Moms Council of experts and all the other smart moms to give advice and share solutions. Moms Talk will also be the place to drop in for a talk about the latest parenting hot topic. Do you know of a local mom who’s adopted the Tiger Mother approach to parenting and what do you think…
