50-something Moms Blog

Que Sera, Sera (I Don't Need No Stinkin' Resolutions)

New Year's Day was our last in Park City, and my husband decided to culminate our stay with a fabulous dinner for two at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse (which was conveniently located inside our hotel).

"So... what are your resolutions?" he asked.

He was surprised when I told him I don't make them any longer.

After all, by the time you are my age, they are all the same: Eat healthier. Exercise. Spend wisely. Be a better parent. Be a better wife.

This is the stuff we're supposed to be doing in our daily lives anyway. It seems silly to resolve to do it on January 1st each year when I'm struggling to keep all those balls in the air 365 days a year.

Rather than resolving to take some kind of new action, I am trying to enact a change of attitude.

"My goal for this year is to stop worrying so much. I just want to try and be happy."

Style? What Style?

Shopping with my 13-year-old can be a trip... to the psychiatrist. I have learned to keep my opinions to myself and let her find her own style.

If only.she would return the favor. Last week, while shopping for new shoes (for her), I happened to look longingly at a cute pair of boots.

"That's not your style," she sniffed.

She has a point. I actually don't have a style. Shortly after she was born, we obtained a mortgage and lost a second income. She has rarely seen me wear anything but jeans, t-shirts and trainers. That doesn't mean I don't like stylish clothes... I just don't have a lot of budget for anything that isn't purely functional, nor many reasons to dress in anything that isn't casual.

Confessions of a Compulsive Blogger

Cross Posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Is Blogging Your Compulsion? @ Yahoo! Video

Hello, everyone. My name is Donna and I'm a Compulsive Blogger.

And judging from the company in this room, I am not alone. I am one of a couple of hundred contributors to the Silicon Valley Moms Group, most of whom also have personal sites, where they write about what's on their minds.

We all have different experiences and points of view - but the one thing we have in common is a desire to chronicle our thoughts and share them with others. For me, (and Kim Tracy Prince, who also appears in the video above... and a lot of other women I know) it's not just a desire, but a compulsion.

Apparently, I was born a writer. I'm socially awkward in person, but give me a notebook and pen and I know how to shine. I have an autograph book signed by my second grade teacher, who said she expected to see my plays on Broadway some day. I used to look forward to exams with essay questions, because I could tailor the answers to what I did know (as opposed to multiple choice, where anything I failed to study could be made glaringly obvious). And my first paying job out of college was staff writer for a nationally syndicated radio show. That's right, I used to be a professional.

Aspiring writers are always advised to keep a journal, because it's always best to "write what you know." This is something I attempted several times over the years, but was never able to keep it up. I was busy. I was tired. But many years later - as a stay-at-home mom planning a family vacation - I started a blog with the thought that it would be the easiest way to share our journey with friends and family. The exercise of writing out the experience proved to be so enjoyable, that I continued the practice when we got home.

That was six years ago. I still write about our travels (when we leave town), but I also write about my family, my friends, my daughter's school, the PTA, local events... basically, whatever is on my mind. That journal my teachers were always nagging me to keep is now a reality, but with one major difference: It has an audience. My readers share experiences similar to mine, and let me know when they like (and don't like) something I've written. There's more to this than the affirmation of immediate feedback -- I've forged very real friendships with dozens of people through the words we write to each other and on our blogs.

And I no longer need to force myself to write, because I'm addicted.

Original post for Silicon Valley Moms Group by Donna Schwartz Mills, who also writes about life and family in Southern California at her personal blog, SoCal Mom.

Mommy Blogging: It's not Just Unicorns and Roses

...cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Recently I was on a talk radio show with a few other guests and one mom jumped in with, "just to be clear. I am not a Mommy Blogger." Disdain dripped from each syllable. A little too perkily I jumped in the fray, "I am a Mommy Blogger." and the otherwise uneventful hour continued.

It was only later in the evening that I realized my fellow blogger was trying to distance herself from me. She didn't want to be known as just a Mommy Blogger. She wants to be more than just a Mom. She wanted to be taken seriously; she wanted to play with The Big Boys. In my quiet reflective mood I felt sorry for her, and I still do.

Mommy Blogging is more than gardening and fairytales, it runs deeper than meal planning, potty training and fitness plans. Mommy Blogging is post feminist, post Mommy Wars, post partum and post playgroup. Mommy Blogging is all of us, Mommy Blogging can even be for boys. Big Boys too.

CLICK HERE to continue reading on Los Angeles Moms Blog......

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I guess I just assumed it would be later.

For the first time ever, my daughter, Bella Bambina, refused to hold my hand in public. Not because she was angry with me, not because she was in a hurry, not because she was being ornery or contrarian. Just because. Just because she’s nine-and-a-half. Just because she’s growing up.

As she and her brother and I walked down a busy and very public street in Beverly Hills, and as my son sweetly slipped his little paw in mine, my daughter committed her first sin of omission (at least that I know about). She simply did not take my hand. My heart took a little dip. I walked a few more paces without saying anything. Finally, weenie that I am, I couldn’t take it and asked if she wanted to hold my hand. She looked around quickly and then shook her head, no. Not wanting her to realize how hurt I was, I pretended to pretend to pout (meaning I wanted her to believe I was pretending to pout, but in reality, I was sort of pouting) and asked why not? One beat, and then another without an answer. I could tell she was trying to think of some reasonable explanation that I would buy. “I have a book in my hand,” she finally replied. Not one to give up, I said, “Well, why don’t you put it in your other hand?” She just shook her head again.

I let it go, and with it—a little piece of my heart and her childhood.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Earthquakes Are Scarier When You Have Children

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.
When the earthquake hit this morning, Caius, my two year old, and I were sitting on the couch together, pretending to feed each other imaginary food. Cedric, my newborn, was on my bed, napping. As our windows started rattling and the floor shook beneath us, Caius looked up at me, his face filling with fear and confusion. Suddenly realizing what was happening, I grabbed him and leapt towards the bedroom doorway. Telling Caius to stay in the doorway, I ran to scoop up Cedric (who had woken up from the rumbling and was contentedly sucking his fist) and turned around to see my toddler crying in front of me. He had run away from the doorway. Crying and bewildered, he whimpered over the rattling noise, “I’m scared Mama!”

Still clutching Cedric to my chest, I grabbed Caius’s hand with my own free one and muttered, “I know baby. Now get under the table right now.” Pushing him under our dining room table, I scooted in next to him.

I have never moved so fast in my life. And I have never been so scared.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Confessions of an Old School Mom

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.
I was raised in the South in the 60s and 70s when the parenting touchstones were phrases like:

"If you kids don't quit lettin' the air conditioning out the back door, I'm gonna tan your hides!"
"Just stay outside and drink out of the hose - it's the same as the water in the kitchen!"
"No daughter of mine is going to be seen walking down the street in those tacky short-shorts!"
In the world of my youth, "sass" was met with "what for," athletic competitions produced "winners" and "losers" and the reaction to a child addressing an adult by his or her first name was an appalled, open-mouthed stare. In our household, a girl did not call a boy on the phone. Ever. (Girls who called boys were "forward" - one slippery rung above "loose.")

This is how I was raised.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Not Ready for my Closeup

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog. This story will air Wednesday, July 16, on the CBS Evening News (6:30 PM in most markets).

I’m new around here, so I’m feeling like a bit of a joiner. I eagerly scour every email from the blogging community for ways I can jump into the fray and meet new people and make new connections. Also, I find it hard to say “no” to requests for help if I think I have the means to give someone a hand. Yesterday, these circumstances landed me in my living room at 8AM at the wrong end of a TV camera.

I say “the wrong end” because in my pre-mom career I was behind the camera as a TV producer. To me, that feels like the right end. Still, since I have all this experience, I thought I was prepared. I can give good soundbite, I know enough not to burp or chew on my lip or scratch my ears on camera. When the CBS producer contacted us with a need to interview somebody tomorrow! about women and retirement planning, or lack thereof, I stepped forward. I had less than 24 hours to prepare. It was a challenge!

Click HERE to continue reading at LA Moms Blog.

The Procrastination Gene

... cross posted from our newest sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

After a lovely morning with my friend Lisa where we (somewhat guiltily) snuck off to breakfast and then to Sex and the City, I came home. The sun was shining, the birdies were tweeting in the trees and I'd just picked up a fro-yo with blueberries. Could life be any sweeter?

Then, I saw her. On my front porch sat my beautiful daughter who is home from college, making a pit-stop between San Francisco and Ecuador (from whence I shall will her to return malaria-free). She was reading the paper with that characteristic squinty expression that says so much about the night before.

"Hi, sweetie," I said breezily. When her pained eyes shifted upwards, then refocused on my face, I knew she wasn't feeling particularly swell. But did that stop me? No.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.