music teacher Archives - Old Mom Diaries

December 16, 2017

#27- Fear

Fear is a natural state unless you are a teenage boy. Children fear being alone, twentysomething’s fear the unpredictability of their future. How will I pay the bills? Is that car going to crash into me?

And being a parent has its own set of fears. When my baby falls, will he get hurt? Will my tween get bullied in school? Is my teenager going to get in trouble drinking? Am I teaching this little being to grow to be a happy, productive member of society? Will my kids stay healthy? Will I be around as long as they need me? Am I teaching them little nuggets of wisdom that will help them as they journey through life?

Tangent warning (It will all come back around. I promise):

Today as I was driving with my kids, I saw a car with a tire that was ready to pop. The kids asked me why I pulled over and let that car pass me and why I slowed down. I told them that I could see that car had a problem with the tire and if the tire popped, the car would be difficult to control. I wanted to stay away from the car if that happened.

As I said it, I heard my dad’s voice. From the time I was small, he was always talking to me about how to drive safely. If you can’t see a truck’s mirrors, they can’t see you. Bridges freeze first. Tractor-trailers cannot accelerate or brake as fast as cars. He always passed along that advice any chance he got, and I know it has helped me avoid a few accidents over the years.

We are nearing what would have been his 69th birthday, and next month will be the 16th anniversary of the heart attack that took him from us.

Back to Fear

My dad passed when he was just 53. He never met any of his children’s spouses or any of his grandchildren. When I am 53, my son will be 16 and my daughter will be 14. As an old mom, this thought haunts me all the time.

What can I do about genetics? I take my cholesterol pills, I have never even tried a cigarette, and never will. I’m exercising regularly and trying to eat healthy on a tight budget in an effort to lose some extra pounds. I sing every day too – it reduces stress. As my doctor bluntly told me, “After 40, you really can’t fight genetics and an unhealthy lifestyle.”

When I don’t want to exercise, I look at my kids. I know that the health and fitness experts would say I should do it for me, but I have to say, these two cutie pies are pretty good motivation.

More Fear

On Black Friday, I skipped the shopping and went for my yearly mammogram. I got a call from the doctor late that afternoon. There is a change from last year in my left breast.

“It is probably just a cyst,” he said. “But let’s get a few more images to be sure.”

I have my follow up next week. Four weeks after the first. For these four weeks, I have been trying to hide the fear of what this could be while creating a happy holiday season for my children. There are days I am successful. There are days I am not. The day we put up the tree, we realized most of our lights were ruined by a flood in the basement a few weeks earlier. I somewhat manically marched everyone down to CVS at 7:00 at night so we could all have that Christmas happiness in the house right now (Dammit!).

As a music teacher, I am also right in the middle of concert season. I consider these weeks with my students to be the weeks where lasting memories are made. In any given year, it is a challenge to calmly teach and encourage them while they are Santa-Crazy and Snow-Bonkers. But I work hard at it, and I think I’m pretty good at it. This has not been any given year, but I still try to remember that these kids deserve that happy memory and it is my job to help them get there.

I have waited with the fear for three weeks, and there is just one week to go. The friends and family I have told have been incredibly supportive. Some reminded me that they would have brought me in right away if it looked really bad and others saying that cysts are common in well-endowed women (damn big ta-tas).

And in this week there are presents to wrap, concerts to run, cookies to bake and holiday merriment to be had. The fear is there, but so is life. And I guess that’s really the point.

Photo by RalphArvesen

August 19, 2017August 25, 2017

#4 – Sleep Like a Baby???

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…

Photo by treehouse1977

August 17, 2017August 25, 2017

#1 – An old mom is born

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.

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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.