My Achilles Heel

I often look at people on the subway or walking down the street and I think, they must have it easier than me. They can stop thinking. They don't have obsessive thoughts. They don't have anxiety, they don't deal with their heart racing most of the time.

However, upon reflection, I realize that every person has their own achilles heel.

Achilles, according to Greek Mythology, was dipped into the river Styx by his mother in an attempt to make him immortal. But when she dipped him into the water, she held him by his heel thereby making that part of his body vulnerable.

Every person has their own vulnerability.

My achilles heel is anxiety, panic, worry. I cannot stop thinking and worrying. Often, my brain makes me feel powerless. I cannot control my thoughts.

Though everyone has their own weakness, their own achilles heel, people are trained by society to hide their vulnerabilities. If we were more open about what we struggle with as individuals, we would feel a little less alone.

Our achilles heels make us who we are. By sharing our weaknesses we can learn from one another.

I say we break this societal pattern of hiding vulnerabilities.

What is your achilles heel?

A Lesson On Fear From Samara

My feelings about labor during my second pregnancy were vastly different from the way I felt about it during my first pregnancy. When I was pregnant the first time around, with Ari, labor was an abstract concept. I knew it would be painful, but I hadn't experienced what that truly meant.

I was scared of labor this time around, with Samara, because I knew how painful labor could be and I was planning on a home birth. I wanted the home birth badly, but I was also petrified of natural childbirth; how much it would hurt and the possibility that I would feel out of control.

When I made the decision to transfer back to my old OB and have my labor induced in the hospital, after being in early labor for a week, I allowed my mind and my body to relax. Once I made up my mind about the induction, my body took over and I went into labor on my own. I didn't need to be induced!

After my water broke, I had absolutely no control over what was happening to my body and I was scared out of my mind.

My acupuncturist told me that when he saw his wife in active labor, her eyes looked different. It was as if her mind wasn't present, her body was running the show.

This is how I felt when I was in labor. I never experienced active labor with Ari. This was a totally new feeling.

My body had taken over and all I could do was go along for the ride. In life, I hate roller coasters, they make me feel out of control. This labor was a real life roller coaster and Samara was operating the controls.

She forced me to face my fear, to confront natural childbirth. I know what it is to have a baby naturally now, and my daughter is the one who forced me to face my fear. Perhaps this is a part of her role in life, to help others face their fears.

What did you childbirth teach you about yourself?

Thought of The Day: Coffee = Oxygen Mask

You know what they tell you on an airplane?

"Put your oxygen mask on yourself, before assisting others?"

Well, this is how I feel about my morning cup of coffee. It is my oxygen mask. Before that cup, I am useless to others.

There is nothing like that morning cup of coffee!

And the first sip...oh yeah!


After my morning essential elixir, I feel ready to face the day!

The Gratitude List

When I was a child, before going to bed, or when we were sad, my mom used to ask my brother and I to make a "gratitude list." Our task was to name 10 things we were grateful for.


Here is my gratitude list:

1. Ari
2. Kisses and hugs from Ari
3. Wilhelm
4. My family (My brother, Rosa, Frankie, Every member of my extended family)
5. My parents
6. My Cats
7. Having a place to live
8. My friends (I have the best friends ever! Thank you for everything that you do!)
9. Working with great kids
10. Mint

What are you grateful for?

Marjorie The Cat Inspires Me

I'd like to introduce you all to someone. His name is Marjorie.


Yes, I did say his name is Marjorie. Marjorie is a male cat and he is fabulous. But he is not my cat. He resides in a pet food and supply shop called Beastly Bite in Brooklyn, NY. The funny thing about Marjorie is that he hangs out at Beastly Bite, but his original home is actually next door at the Community Bookstore.


Marjorie sneaks out from the bookstore each day to visit Beastly Bite. According to the Bookstore folks, Marjorie is very mean to people when he is at the bookstore. According to Emma (who works at Beastly Bite) Marjorie is very nice and affectionate when he is at the the pet supply shop.

Clearly, this cat suffers from mood swings and is heavily influenced by his environment. Then it occurred to me: Marjorie the cat is just-like-me!

I admire his tenacity. I love the fact that he can just up and leave his original residence to go store hopping. Seeing Marjorie and what a character he was reminded me of my own two cats, Simon and Egreck.


I realized that all the time I've been spending with my son has resulted in me being a neglectful cat owner. I am often yelling at my cats to:

"Get out of the bed!" When I find them sleeping in Ari's bed.
"Get out of the bathroom!" When Egreck threatens to poop in the tub.
"Get back in the house!" When Simon runs out the apartment door and down the stairs to the lobby.

It occurred to me that perhaps the reason Simon is trying so hard to escape is that I've been neglecting him!

So, I listened to my cat mom guilt and bought Simon and Egreck some balls to chase.


Thank you Marjorie the cat, for inspiring me to be a better cat mama.

Thank You Veteran Moms

I've always been the sort of person that looks up to functional people, people that have their act together. I guess this is because I constantly feel discombobulated and like I'm just sliding by in life.

Despite the fact that I am, in fact, 30 years old, most of the time I feel like I'm an adolescent. I need guidance constantly. I need someone to tell me what to do.

Enter, the veteran moms.

The veteran moms, who I've encountered, have been through those tough times. It doesn't matter how many children they have. They always seem to have a solution to a child-based problem. And when I am having a tough time, when I am ready to throw myself out a window from sheer frustration, they always seem to know what to do.

I just want to take a moment and thank all the veteran moms out there who have guided me on my motherhood journey thus far. You know who you are. Feel free to post a "you're welcome" comment if you are a member of this group.



Are you a young (and possibly discombobulated) mom? Do you take advice from veteran moms too?

Last Woman Picked For Kickball

Today I felt completely out of control. Do you ever feel out of control? Things were happening all around me, and I could not stop them. No matter what I did, what I said, it did not solve the problem.

I was not a super hero, but rather a damsel in distress. I was not my fantastic articulate self. Sometimes I think I'm amazing. I can talk to anyone, ask for anything, get things done. Today none of those things worked. Nobody thought I was cool.

If I were being picked for a team kickball today I would've been picked last. Yes, friends, it was that kind of a day.

I'm trying to shake it off, but I'm still feeling the residual effects of today running through my mind and my body.

I Am a Rock

Almost a year ago, I wrote a post about trusting your inner mom. That is to say, believing in yourself enough to know that you can handle a given situation with your child.

I was faced with a challenging situation this evening. My son skipped his afternoon nap, and by the time bedtime rolled around he was miserably cranky. I knew he had to sleep, but he lay in the bed shouting "Go!" He wanted to go into the living room and play.

In my mind I was conflicted, I knew that he needed to sleep desperately, but my child is very strong willed. He is a Taurus with a moon in Taurus in case you didn't know.

I'm laying next to him in bed (because he refuses to sleep alone) and he is screaming and sitting up.

Suddenly the ghosts of moms past started flooding through my brain:

My friend Josina's voice (mother of Nelson- almost 2) was in my head! It said:
Remember, Sarah, it's just like teaching...as a mom you have to win.
Then my friend Nora's voice (mother of two) was in my head
You have to be the boss. You tell him, "Get in your bed, now!"
Finally the secretary at my school, Regina's voice (mother of two) popped in for a visit
None of my kids ever slept alone. They always crawled into my bed.

I managed to silence the voices of moms past and listened to my own voice, which told me to sing. My son was screaming and crying and I sang "Kumbayah." Don't ask me why. I just sang. I sang and sang. My throat is still sore and itchy from having a bad cold, but nonetheless I sang through his screaming, through his crying until he fell fast asleep.

While I was singing, I kept telling myself that I was a rock. Again, I know it sounds strange, but I imagined that I was a giant still rock. I was unmovable. He could scream and cry but I would be stable for him. I would not freak out. As I repeated the words to Kumbayah over and over again, it became a mantra for me. Each time I said the words, I believed that I was more stable and more still.

I realized something as I was singing. The calmer I remained, the calmer he became. It's so simple, yet difficult to master. Let's face it, I'm a nervous neurotic person. To ask me to remain calm is a lot to demand. But I see, now, the benefit of trying to remain still and calm. I see that my son picks up on my energy.

Thank goodness he is asleep. I still feel like a rock, solid.

I Want To Eat Him

Sometimes, I look at Ari, and I just want to eat him! I don't mean eat him in a cannibalistic way, I mean, I just want to squish him and eat him.

Do you ever want to eat your kids?

Are Dogs Like Babies?

I would like to share a disturbing thought with you. I considered calling my friend Donna.


Then I thought, it's kind of early (10:30am Sunday) but then I thought she has a dog. Dogs are like babies...they wake you up early. Dogs = babies?

So, are dogs like babies? Thoughts?

Saturn Returns and I Leave

The planet Saturn returns to the original position it was in when you were born between the ages of 28-30. I am going to get "new age-like" here and say that Saturn has returned to me in the past two years. My gut reaction is to hit the emotional road.

I have this feeling inside me, since I became a mother, that keeps urging me to evolve and change. But not just change. I want to leave. I want to abandon what is in my past and move on to my future. I am ready to close up old wounds and embrace what is to come.

I've never felt like this before. I am excellent at holding grudges, but I'm tired of these old patterns.

I am ready to become new again.

Being a mother is a new identity and evokes internal questions:

"Who am I?"

"Who am I to my son?"

"What do I want to do with my life?"

As Saturn returns to me, I've said hello to it, yelled at it, cried and attempted to make peace with it before I take road trip to get away from it.

Being a Grown-Up is No Fun!

I'm getting ready to have a play date right now. A friend of mine is coming over. I know her peripherally from one of the schools I substitute at. I determined, since I don't know her that well, that I need to clean my house before she gets here. I need to pretend that I actually don't live like a college frat boy.



My son was baffled that I was actually using the vacuum cleaner. I think he believed (previous to this experience) that is was a statue that lived in our apartment.


This is one of those life experiences that reminds me that (unfortunately for me) I am an adult. I have to stop being lazy and clean my apartment. I hate it so much.

I wish I were five years old again. I didn't realize how good I had it. All my meals were cooked for me, I was hugged constantly, I got consistent nap time every day, and I never had to pay bills.

I despise responsibilities. I hate pretending to be mature, when inside I am whining "Why do I have to do this?"

My son doesn't realize how good he has it.

Sleep As a Teleportation Device

One of my ingenious 4th grade students admitted that he had trouble falling asleep. I asked him what he did to combat his insomnia.

He replied:
"Sometimes I like to pretend that I am not really sleeping, but teleporting to the next day."

He went on to say that he closes his eyes and tells himself when he opens them again, it will magically be tomorrow.

Brilliant!

I decided to design my own personal teleportation device to visualize when I have insomnia. Here it is:

A New Take On Reading Aloud

My best friend Mint and I were discussing the miraculous fact that I recently finished reading a book. Despite all that is on my plate, taking care of my toddler and general life duties, I was able to find the time to read.

She asked me how this was made possible. I told her that I read in short spurts; while my son was napping or immersed in individual play.

She then imparted to me that her mother used to read aloud entire novels to her as a child despite whether or not they were age appropriate; this was her mother's way of satisfying her own literary cravings. For example, Mint was read the works of Agatha Christie, many vampire novels, the complete works of Shakespeare and various historical non-fiction books about the queens of England.

A lot of the material she genuinely enjoyed, but some of it was too risque for her to hear at the time.

This leads me to my anecdote of the day. My son has recently begun to recognize that objects falling into the category of "book" span beyond the baby board book. Today, he took a novel, that I had gotten out from the library, and handed it to me. So I asked him:

"Do you want me to read this to you?"
He replied "Dee!" Which I took to mean "Yes."

So I read him a page of the novel. He listened for a bit and then ran off to play with his toys.

I like the idea of reading adult fiction to him and will continue this practice. But unlike Mint's mom, I think I'll keep the material age appropriate.

"The Now"

Although I don't like to admit it, I like routine. I enjoy having a schedule; knowing what my plans are for the upcoming day, week and even month. Having a child has allowed me to foster a shameless love affair with my calendar.

Pre-child, I would have identified as more of a spontaneous person who occasionally dated routine; but never had a serious relationship with it. Well, times have changed and routine and I are officially in love.

Where am I going with this? Today I received communication that threatened the course of my routinized life. So I reacted in the most appropriate way I could think of: I panicked.

I promptly called my mom and asked her what to do.

"Mom! I thought I had everything planned out. But now XYZ just happened and I don't know what to do!" I exclaimed

My mom felt my fierce rays of anxiety penetrate through the telephone. She took a deep audible breath and responded:

"You can't worry about XYZ right now. You have to focus on that you are doing at this moment. XYZ is going to happen regardless of whether or not you worry about it, so why bother? Focus on the now."

"THE NOW."

From her response, it was apparent that my mother had just come out of a mediation session. But she did have a point. I was so worried about an event undercutting my tomorrow, the next day and the day after that, that I had totally lost sight of what I was doing at that very moment.

"Thanks Mom." I said. And breathed a sigh of relief. I hung up the phone, walked over to where my son was playing and I (myself) started building with blocks.



We sat there together (my son and I) creating indecipherable colorful structures and then it hit me:

My son is only concerned with this very moment. He is enjoying playing with his blocks. He doesn't care about tomorrow, or next week or even next month. All that concerns him is right now. This is "the now" that my mom was referring to.

So for today, I have put my schedule out of my mind. I am focusing on "the now."

Fear Itself

When I was riding the subway today, I let my mind wander (as I tend to do on public transportation) and I began thinking about fear. As a child I was afraid of many things: roller coasters, big dogs, large social gatherings, my parents never coming home when I was left with a babysitter, just to name a few.

Then I thought about my son. What will he be afraid of?



I want him to be able to conquer his fears as I never had a chance to do with many of mine. Although I am no longer afraid of large canines, I still will not get on a roller coaster and parties continue to make me nervous. I suppose conquering one's fears is a process and is multifaceted. One thing is evident, parental encouragement to face one's fears can only help alleviate them.

What I realized (when I reflected back on my childhood) is that my parents were respectful of my fears; they validated the fact they were real (which was helpful and made me feel secure) but they did not push me to face them.

This is not to say that it was their responsibility to help me face my fears. I am the only person who can truly do this. I was mainly thinking about what a parent's role can be with regard to their child's fears.

Furthermore, I wonder what can I do to instill confidence in my son so that he has the tools to conquer his fears head on. I want him to experience life and take risks that I never took because I was too afraid to leap.

Sometimes being cautious is an asset, other times being too careful leads one to miss out on life experiences.

Write it Down!

Taking a break from technology, I would like to focus on something relatively simple; writing. I am literally referring to the process of taking a pen into your hand, forming letters that eventually become words and words that eventually become sentences. I am about to disarm many of you with this statement:

I cannot remember the last time I wrote something down!

I've been using a computer for so long that I barely have the opportunity to use paper and pen. This scares me.

What scares me even more is the fact that our kids will write even less then we did when we were children. I remember working hard to learn to hold a pencil. Then it was on to learning to construct letters in print. Finally, the dreaded cursive. I hated writing in script because it was so difficult to loop letters together in a fancy way. 

Today, schools (public and private) are filled with computers. Children still learn the fundamentals of reading and writing, but as soon as they are able they are typing away. Where does this leave the old paper and pen?

Will our children still be as proficient writers if they are using computers 90% of the time? Look at our world: nearly everything is computer-based. From writing an email to checking your bank balance, it's all done  on the computer. 

So what do we do as parents? We create activities with which to use paper and pen with our children. Since our society is computer-based, we must re-introduce the paper and pen. This means we sit down with our kids and write real letters (with stamps and all) to send to relatives who live out of town or even in town! We draw with our children. Find an excuse to get off the computer and use some ink and tree carcass!

Ball point, felt tip, blue, black or red ink; It doesn't matter which one you choose. Just break it out and start writing! 

Is There a Clean Tee-Shirt in This House?

It's a very easy thing to do; stay in your house. Especially when the weather is hot and humid outside and you don't feel like you live in New York City anymore but rather the rain forest in a South American country. Personally, this kind of weather makes me want to become one with my couch, soak up the air conditioning in my living room and eat a lot of ice cream.

If you're anything like me in this situation, you create excuses not to leave the house. I can't find a clean tee-shirt therefore I must stay in today! Plus, it's overwhelming to try to leave the house with a baby in tow. You need to compile a bag of supplies to make sure your child is satisfied both physically and emotionally for the duration of the time that you are in the outside world. It can be a daunting task.


On the other hand, I once had a therapist who gave me these wise words of advice: "When in doubt don't bail out!" Meaning, if you have plans to do something or go somewhere, and you are considering canceling those plans for an arbitrary reason to stay home, DON'T. Force yourself to leave the house. Go out!

Why go out? Why not! If you stay in, the day will be predictable. You'll watch a lot of TV, go a lot stir crazy, and by the end of the day you'll feel worse. But if you go out, the possibilities expand.

Even if you visit familiar haunts, you may meet new people, find a new spot in the park that you didn't even know existed and by the end of the day you will have given yourself three important gifts: surroundings that are not the four walls of your apartment, fresh air and a little sanity.

So if you are debating whether or not to get out of the house, do it! Go out there and take a walk with your child. Even if it's around the block, even if you have no destination in mind. Your mind and your body will thank you for it.

Babies and The Elderly

Babies are loved by many, but nobody loves a good baby more than the elderly.

My best friend's father has dementia. Before he got sick, George always loved babies. I am happy to report that despite his illness, George's love for babies has remained intact.

Yesterday, my son and I went to visit my best friend and George in their apartment. It was difficult to carry on a conversation with George because he was staring into space the majority of the time. Then I had an idea.

For months now, OK, a notorious tabloid magazine, has been sending my best friend their periodical despite her efforts to thwart them. To show my support for their demise, I begin ripping pages from OK one by one and handing them to George. Then I threw them up into the air and screamed. This excited both George and my son who began to laugh. Babies and the elderly share joy in the simpler things.

Frequently during the day, George sat in a chair and stared off into space. At one point he began to cry spontaneously. My best friend comforted him, and assured him that he was crying because he was confused and could not communicate what he was wanted to say. I wanted to help too but felt ill equipped to do so. But then I remembered, I had a baby with me! So I picked up my son and put him in George's face. He began to laugh once again.

There is something inherently funny about babies. They are not only cute, but they do weird and quirky things like read books upside down, eat paper towels or babble in their own alien language. They are just discovering the world; whereas the elderly have already been living in the world for sometime. Babies remind the elderly of a simpler, stranger more entertaining time, when one is just getting used to themselves, their body, learning to walk and talk and just be.



George loved watching my son do weird things all day. Conversely, my son enjoyed engaging in strange activities; like holding a green marker in one hand and a blue one in the other and drawing on both paper and himself. His hands are still a hybrid of green and blue.

When my son is older I will show these pictures to him and share the stories of the funny things he did to brighten George's days.

The Ocean is a Toy

The ocean is many things; it is beautiful, mysterious, sometimes dangerous with it's unpredictable ebb and flow. But today I have learned that (in addition to all these qualities that the ocean possesses) it is also a toy.

Let me explain; my son decided that when the waves wash into the shore it is hysterically funny.


And when they leave the shore and go back out into the ocean's abyss, this is even funnier.



I knew that my child liked water; what I didn't know was that he thought it was hilarious. It just goes to show you that a child can view a natural phenomenon entirely different from us adults. We look at the ocean and we see a massive body of water; sometimes peaceful sometimes erratic, but always volatile. But a child views this body of water as exciting, funny, and strange.

Thank you ocean, for keeping my child and me on my toes.