I really started feeling like an old mom after #2 arrived. I was up every night with Girlie and Sweet Boy was not taking any naps unless it was in the car. Certain things got left behind, like hair cuts, makeup, cooking. My husband helped, but he also had a very time-consuming job working 60 and 70 hour weeks.
It was at Girlie’s 3-month check-up that I first got asked if I was her grandmother. I was 39 and at the moment I looked like hell. I might have showered. Or not. I might have combed my hair. Or not. I probably had spit-up on me, but the question is really was it on my shirt, shorts or both. I was mortified, but I was just too tired to give the woman a piece of my mind.
A quick side thought– at the time of this appointment, the local hospital had just relocated the pediatric office to the same floor as the OB/GYN. I don’t think I was good advertising for the OB at that moment.
Turning insult into insight
When I got home, I started thinking about my friends who are close to 40. Altogether, we had kids of all ages, from infants to college. And there were some with no kids at all. So I reminded myself to be grateful. Grateful for the chance to be a loving mommy to two sweet kids–even if I did look like a grandmother.
Every family has their own traditions. One of ours is going to the Woodstock Fair, which has been held every Labor Day Weekend since 1860 in Woodstock, Conn.
The year my husband and I met, 2010, we were both at the fair, but we didn’t know it. I went for the music and the crafts. He went for the Ceremonial Native Americing Dancing that Boy Scout Troop 25 from Putnam has performed since long before hubby was a boy in the troop. We hadn’t known each other yet and we didn’t see each other at the fair, but we were both there.
In 2011, we were announcing our engagement to local friends at the Fair. In 2012, we were indulging in my early pregnancy cravings. Seriously, the only root beer float I’ve ever had was at the Woodstock Fair, while I was preggo with Sweet Boy. A few days before Labor Day weekend 2013 was Sweet Boy’s first case of croup. But the steroids had helped him feel better pretty quickly and we introduced the little guy to many friends at the Fair.
Friday Funday
Sweet Boy really started enjoying the Fair in 2014. That year I discovered the absolute best time to go to the Fair with young kids–Friday morning. The Woodstock Fair is open, but definitely not crowded. The animals, crafts, giant vegetables are all on display and easy to view. The food vendors are getting fired up. You walk into the smell of barbecue meats grilling, fresh kettle corn popping, apple crisp baking. For a food lover, it is absolutely intoxicating. The vendors are happy to talk to you about their crafts and their process because they aren’t swamped with customers. That year I was newly pregnant with Girlie and once again, but this time the heat and the fried food made me pretty queasy.
2015 was a huge development in our family’s love of the fair. I took both kids on Friday to see the agriculture displays, but later the weekend, all 4 of us went and Sweet Boy discovered his favorite part of the fair– the rides. Yes, at just 2-1/2 he was tall enough to try the kiddy rides (he’s still a giant). The train, the carousel, the tea cups– he loved them all.
Silly Old Mom memory– Survivor headlined that year. Half my friends thought the TV show, the other half thought the band. It was the band.
Woodstock Fair 2017
This year we enjoyed our yearly Friday morning trip, and it became a play date with some of Sweet Boy’s friends. Everything is just so friendly. A nice woman helped Sweet Boy wash his hands in the bathroom while I helped Girlie. We had a yarn spinner explain to the kids how she makes yarn from sheep wool and a weaver show them how she makes her fabrics. They climbed on the tractors (despite Old Mom reminding them to look with their eyes, not their hands). And at least half of the food vendors are from local organizations doing their yearly fundraisers. Booster clubs, Lions Clubs, Student Councils, Fire Departments. They all come together as a community to create a memorable event for visitors near and far. As I’m writing this, we are getting ready to go back for Day 2. Sweet Boy is too excited to put his socks on, and Girlie is babbling about getting a blue slushie from Daddy’s friends at the local Scout Camp‘s vendor booth and singing “The Animal Fair.”
And when we returned home from the fair, we had two very tired and happy kiddos. They loved the rides, the ginormous vegetables, the food, the Native American Dancing show, the children’s play area (can I just say- brilliant!!! Give the kiddos a spot for some quiet play so they can last a bit longer for the day). We saw friends from t-ball, day care, and scouting. We supported local agriculture, artisan vendors, churches, schools groups, and scout groups.
At just 4 years old, my son looks forward to the Woodstock Fair every year. My daughter will be talking about this weekend for weeks. This Fair will be a part of our family for many, many years to come.
Being home with my toddler for nine weeks was such an amazing time. After getting his ear tubes, Sweet Boy’s vocabulary exploded. He loved stories and he really loved his First 100 words book. Even at 16 months or so, it was clear that my boy loved to learn.
We had an apartment across from the town beach and we would play in his over-sized sandbox a few mornings every week. I didn’t take him when it was busy though because I was appalled by some of the music the younger parents played for their kids. With his vocabulary exploding, I really didn’t want him learning words like booty or effing or anything like that. Does that make me old? Maybe.
Feeling old
One day a week we would try one of the local children’s museums. I listened to the younger moms, but I didn’t really talk with them. They always looked so perfect. Nails done, hair free of grays. It had been so long since my last manicure or dye job, I felt completely out of place. I was blessed with younger looking skin (Thanks, Mom and Gram), so I didn’t get asked the “Grandmother” question (yet), but I just felt like my priorities were different.
Maybe those younger girls had well-off families. Maybe they weren’t starting over financially after moving for love. And just maybe they were just really good with a bottle of nail polish. But I always felt out of place. So I played with my son instead of interacting with the other moms. Sometimes I wonder if I was doing him a disservice by not encouraging him to play with the other kids more, but I can’t change that now.
Family Time in Our Perfect Summer
Weekends were time for family outings. We visited my siblings and their kids. We went hiking or to scout camp with my husband. And we took Sweet Boy to the baseball field and made his very first baseball card. It was such a perfect summer for the three of us.
As Sweet Boy started sleeping more and we started sharing some of our favorite things with the young one, we grew more confident and comfortable as parents. So we decided that it was time for #2.
Today is the last day of my summer vacation. On Monday, I will be back to work teaching music every day, while my kids will be back to their lovely home daycare with their friends and their second family. As a tribute to this time with my kiddos, I thought I would share with all of you a few of my favorite kid quotes from this summer. Things that really made me laugh. My apologies if the language offends anyone.
Great Kid Quotes
Sweet Boy: “If I have to go to the doctor’s office, can I go to the one near Dave and Busters?”
Girlie ( a huge Blue’s Clue’s fan): We just got an e-mail, “We just an e-mail. We just got an e-mail. I wonder who it’s from.” (Are you singing it too?)
Sweet Boy: (during my new workout video): “Mommy, I don’t have to shake it do I?”
Sweet Boy (I made meat sauce instead of sauce and meatballs): “Can you use some frosting to put the meat into meatballs?”
Girlie at lunch (What I heard): “He has boobies. I have an ass hole.” (What she actually said): “He has blueberries. I have an apple.”
Girlie: “Mommy, You went tinkles on the potty! Good job! I’m so proud of you.”
And my favorite quote of the summer from Sweet Boy: “Mommy, we’re hooking things. That means we’re hookers.”
And there you have it. If you ever feel overwhelmed with the challenges of being an old mom, a young mom, a step-mom, a fur mom or any kind other kind of mom, remember the little moments. The laughter, the hugs, watching them grow up into good people– there’s nothing like it.
When we first met the Pediatric ENT at Connecticut Children’s Medical Center, my first thought was, “This GIRL is going to take care of my boy?” She was probably 30 or so, definitely not pushing 40 like Old Mom here. And she kept focusing on the croup instead of the ear infections. Sweet Boy had already had eight ear infections and developed an immunity to Amoxicillin. His pediatrician hadn’t mentioned that the four cases of croup could be a problem. Clearly, she was too young to know what was really important. She asked if she could do a bronchoscopy when she did the surgery to put in his ear tubes. Sure. He’s out anyway.
#1’s surgery was booked for six weeks later. He got another ear infection in that time, and my exhaustion turned into some serious nastiness. I was so stressed about getting his tubes. They couldn’t do the procedure if he had an infection, and the infections just kept coming.
Surgery Day, the Ear Tubes go in
Six weeks passed and surgery day arrived. Poor kiddo couldn’t eat breakfast and there really isn’t a good way to explain that to a 15-month-old. They got my hungry, cranky boy prepped and we all glanced around the pre-op area. Some of those kids were really sick. Really, really sick. So hungry boy screamed for food, and we just hugged him close, thankful that we were here for ear tubes and not something more.
About an hour after he went in, the doctor came out to talk to us. I had to eat my humble pie. The tubes went in nicely, but Young Doctor found two problems during that scope, and they really weren’t playing nice together. Sweet Boy had acid reflux and a cleft in his larynx (ya, that’s pretty rare). The 15 months of sleepless nights were because he was in pain. It all started at 6 months because that’s when he started eating solid food (although we still call that day care “The Germ Factory”). The ear infections were so frequent because his stomach acid just pooled in his throat and the fluid in his ears had no place to go. He didn’t present like a typical reflux patient because the cleft kept him from vomiting (although after having #2, maybe #1 did have excessive spit up).
It all made sense. He started taking reflux meds and FINALLY, he started sleeping (I think Handel himself may have heard me singing “Hallelujah”). She would repair the cleft in a future surgery.
Connecticut Children’s
To date, Sweet Boy has had three surgeries at Connecticut Children’s. He has also seen the aero-digestive team for a team approach to his medical issues. We have always been incredibly happy with his care at this hospital. Whether its giving him a stuffed bear after surgery or a set of Duplo Blocks during a long day of 3 or 4 appointments, singing him “Five Green and Speckled Frogs” to calm him before a hearing check, looking for the monkey in his ear to check for infection or knowing that blue freeze pops really do fix everything when you are scared to stay overnight in a new place, everyone at Connecticut Children’s Hospital is amazing.
Summer vacation started a few weeks after his first surgery and this old mom enjoyed every moment with her toddler. For three whole months, I was rested. Then came #2….
Number 1‘s first year was filled with so many ups and downs. He was such a sweet boy. Still is, but now he’s 4 and knows everything (He still doesn’t believe me that the green stuff on a pond is called algae, not allergy). I absolutely adored finally having the chance to take my baby for walks, sing him lullabies, watch him hit all his milestones early, even as a preemie. I was so proud of my Sweet Boy.
He was just 7 weeks old, playing on the floor with him as we watched the news coverage of the Boston Marathon Bombing. Suddenly, he rolled over from his belly to his back. It was the only happy news on my Facebook feed. I like to think that sweet boy brought a little bit of happiness to a small part of New England that day.
I over-shared everything. Every cute picture, every trip to the store, and every new food. It all went up on social media. I was so happy to finally get my turn to be a mommy that I just had to tell everyone. (Incidentally, this is the reason I’m not using their real names or pictures. They’ve been shared enough.)
Sleep, Baby, Sleep
But there was the other side of it all. #1 was a terrible sleeper. For the first 6 months, he only slept in his car seat or on my chest. Of course, I had read horror stories about babies dying when they fall asleep with a parent. I was just too afraid to let myself sleep too. He was my boy. My job was to take care of him. Mothers are supposed to be selfless. On the good nights, we kept the infant stroller in our room so we could keep him nearby while he slept in his car seat. His favorite place to sleep though was always with mommy. And I always let him, as I played solitaire on my phone and felt him breathe.
At 6 months, I put my foot down. The boy must sleep in a crib. He was starting day care and would need to sleep flat in a pack and play. Plus I was starting back to work and I actually needed to shower, commute, teach small children and come home to cook and clean. I would need to get some sleep. He finally got in the crib after a few weeks of tears (mine and his), but he was never able to fall asleep in there. It just broke my heart to hear him cry while he was laying there. So we always let him fall asleep on us and gently placed him in his crib, if possible.
In fact, I think one of my husband’s favorite memories with Sweet Boy was playing Baby Beatles on the computer while watching him drift off to sleep. I would pray that he wouldn’t wake up when laying him down in his crib. My husband would pretend he was Indiana Jones. If he woke up, the process would start all over again.
I had this horrible guilt about it. I had read every article on sleep training (during my solitaire breaks) and I was doing it all wrong. My much younger mom friends were doing “the right thing” for their babies, but only “the wrong thing” worked for us…
At 6 months, baby boy started at a large center daycare. After his first 2 days, he got croup. It was the scariest cough I have ever heard. He was clearly struggling to breathe. He had croup four times in his first five months at daycare. Test him for allergies they said. It’s a bad croup year they told me. His dad got croup as a kid they told me. What they didn’t tell me was when to sleep. If you haven’t experienced croup, the seal-like cough pops up at night and pretty much goes away during the day.
I had a new principal at work who was not impressed when I missed two days during the first week of school. Thank goodness for relatives who watched him for the rest of the week. It still killed me to go to work while my sick boy was at home.
The ear infections started too. Every three weeks or so. Amoxicillin is like water for the boy at this point. He was so cute and playful during the day, but he just cried all night.
I resented the day care. We nicknamed it “The Germ Factory.” I waited 37 years for this child and they got all the fun time with him while I got all the sleepless nights.
My circle
I am very grateful to all of my friends and colleagues who were so supportive during those difficult months. My mom would drive an hour to our house to watch the boy so I wouldn’t have to miss too much work. My sister and I compared ear infection stories. At work, my colleagues were always understanding when I was out and they were always there when I just needed to cry in the bathroom. My husband always made sure I got a good nap on the weekend to recharge. I found myself saying, “I’m too old for this,” at least once a week, and then changing my mind every afternoon at 4:00 when I picked up my smiling boy.
Sweet Boy and I were at the doctor’s office a few times each month. Between work and doctor’s visits, we were busy all the time. We needed some new answers, but we were too tired to do anything but accept the answers they gave us.
As I mentioned, #1 was born 5 weeks early. 35 weeks. Everything seemed great during my appointments. The Maternal Fetal Health Specialist told me he just could not get the last ultrasound image he needed. So I needed to keep coming back every month. (I think he was just trying to keep me from freaking out about my ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE. )
During my 34-week ultrasound, everything looked great except that baby boy was really big. We talked about scheduling the delivery for 39 weeks to ensure a healthy delivery.
The Sneeze at 35 Weeks
Four days later, we got quite a surprise. My husband was making evening fundraising calls in the office. At 8:00, he called it a night and sat down with me to watch some TV. At 8:02, I sneezed. I felt something wet and at first thought that I had peed a little. But it didn’t stop. My water had broken. No contractions. No warning. Just a lot of fluid all over our new couch and my husband’s new family car. I’m usually prepared for everything. Not this. I hadn’t packed a bag. I hadn’t taken the class. And I certainly hadn’t read the part of the book about premature babies.
Welcome to the World
We got to the hospital around 9:00 that night. They saw the soaked pajamas and skipped right past triage. By midnight there were still no signs of contractions so they started the Pitocin. 22 1/2 hours later with the midwife screaming at me that she was going to cut me open, #1 finally made his debut. (He still waits until the last-second to do anything I ask him to do.)
The time it took for the doctors to check him out and for the midwife to finish me up seemed like an eternity. I needed to hear that little cry. I needed to feel my baby breathe. I’d spent the last 26 1/2 hours worrying about his little lungs. Finally, that cry came. My husband made the victory sign from across the room and my sweet boy was brought to my arms.
I will always be thankful for that sneeze. Preemies tend to have more health issues, and my boy has had his share, but the midwife later told us that the umbilical cord was wrapped around my son’s neck three times. She didn’t need to say anything more. Baby boy arrived early because he needed to.
Those were the first two sleepless nights. At this point, I think I’m probably around 600. And that, my friends, is the reason you’re supposed to have your kids when you’re young.
When I was 34, I was ready to give up. I was still single and pretty hopeless that I would meet someone in time to start a family. I had contacted the state services to look into becoming a foster parent so I wouldn’t completely miss out on parenthood. Love could come in my 50s. Starting parenthood could not.
The foster parent paperwork came in September. Later that month I met him. The one. We both loved the outdoors, Boston Sports, family-style events. I was immediately hooked. 9 months after our first date we were engaged. 9 months after that we were married, and 9 months after that our son was born (he was 5 weeks early if that really matters to you). #1 was born 4 days before I turned 37. And just like that, both a 6 pound, 11-ounce little boy and an old mom were born.
> So who am I? My name is Jen and I’ve been an elementary school music teacher for nearly 20 years. I had my two kids just before I turned 40. I think my age has a lot to do with my sense of parenthood. Some days I feel jealous, some days I feel insightful, but most days I just feel tired.
I needed a project this summer, so I wrote. I wrote during nap times, after the kids went to bed, or when the kids were playing nicely outside for 5 minutes at a time. It was my therapy because being a mom is hard. And when your 2 and 4-year-old are arguing over who gets the last blue freeze pop or who gets the yellow ball and who gets the red, you need to remind yourself not just of all the joys, but that all the challenges pass. There are always new challenges, but there are always new joys too.
I hope our family stories make you laugh or think or just remember to appreciate your family. Always. On the best days, and on the toughest days. Thanks for reading.
. Even at 16 months or so, it was clear that 
during a long day of 3 or 4 appointments, singing him “
” to calm him before a hearing check, looking for the monkey in his ear to check for infection or knowing that blue freeze pops really do fix everything when you are scared to stay overnight in a new place, everyone at Connecticut Children’s Hospital is amazing.
or who gets the yellow ball and who gets the red, you need to remind yourself not just of all the joys, but that all the challenges pass. There are always new challenges, but there are always new joys too.