50-something Moms Blog

Silicon Valley Moms Group Acquired By Technorati Media

2010-11-15T16:47:59-08:00

Reports of our demise, as the saying goes, were premature. The Silicon Valley Moms Group of sister sites is taking up residence in a new location. Look for that great timely, opinionated, poignant, and sometimes just plain funny parenting content you're used to seeing on this site over at The Women's Channel at Technorati. After 6 great years of blogging here, we've moved to a new home.

Fondly,

Jill Asher, Beth Blecherman & Tekla Nee

Co-Founders, Silicon Valley Moms Group

goodbye 50

2010-07-06T02:00:00-07:00

It's kind of awkward that I am saying goodbye to 50-Something Moms Blog before I even turn 50, but I am. Much to the surprise of many of its 800+ (past and present) writers, The Silicon Valley Moms Group founders announced that all of its blogs, including 50-Something Moms Blog would be ending at the end of this month. The announcement did come as a huge shock to many as was evident by the email responses of many of the SV Moms Group writers but reading the email that we all received earlier this month, it was clear that this was a very emotional, very difficult and painful decision. Of course in the beginning, some of us did not accept this decision too graciously. Change, especially sudden change is hard. It's scary. It's unnerving as we wonder what else is going to happen now that this has happened? It is the rare person who openly embraces changes like this. I am definitely not one of those people and I was clearly in the majority of the writers and bloggers of SV Moms Group who struggled with the shock, surprise and disappointment of the news.

Still I couldn't help but think that as women who better to accept and embrace this change? We are genetically wired to handle nothing but change, major change practically our entire lives. As little girls our bodies morph, sometimes painfully, while the hormones rage and our emotions twist and turn and we become women. It isn't too long when we find our bodies stretching and growing in impossible ways as we house life that we help to create. What pregnant woman hasn't looked at her hugely pregnant belly and wondered if it will burst open because it sure as hell isn't going to get any bigger...is it? It does get bigger and bigger. Then our bodies continue the major upheaval as we birth those babies. During all this crazy-assed physical changing our minds change too. I swear nothing changes our thinking, our beliefs, our values more than when we give and sustain a life with our bodies. It's insane, I tell you. And while we go a little bit insane thanks to sleep deprivations, morphing post-partum bodies and those crazy, stupid hormones again, we somehow to manage and to many watching on the outside, make it all look so damn easy. Then just when we come to a place where we enjoy this life being a girl, or at least grudgingly accept it, our bodies freak out again, the hormones rage a little then rage a lot then flame out and we find ourselves looking around a little dazed and wondering WTF was that? Puberty is just a whiny toddler compared to that Menopause bitch. Again, we survive and although we may know the truth, we manage to look graceful...yeah a little sweaty thanks to hot flashes, but we still look lovely and graceful. At least I have been told that while I am weathering through this stage. We women are all about change whether we like it or not...and we seem to do it well...so say the men in our lives, and, well, they are right.

As the days have quickly passed this month, we have vented, mourned, offered virtual hugs and well wishes and have begun to figure out ways to keep in touch and keep this venture going or at least something that resembles it whether it is at new sites or our own personal blogs. SV Moms Group was abundantly endowed with talented, amazing writers so it is good to see some beginning to accept the change and go on to the next writing/blogging opportunity and adventure. My time was all too brief having only had the honor to write for them for five months but it was a great time. I loved the challenge and I can only hope that my writing has continued to grow and develop all the more because of it. To the founders and partners of the Silicon Valley Moms Blog and Silicon Valley Moms Group, I offer my best wishes for wherever the road takes you and I thank you for allowing me to be a small part of great group of witty, wise, talented, opinionated blogging women and men. I'm ready to look to the next adventure and I am sure that I will be sharing it over at Adventures In Juggling.

Original post to 50-Something Moms blog.

You Say Goodbye and I Say Hello. Hello. Hello?

2010-07-05T15:14:10-07:00

I had just returned from an amazing vacation cruise to Alaska with my 80-something mom when I received some very disappointing e-mail news which you probably have read by now: The Silicon Valley Moms web sites are ending.

I felt the floor drop by about two feet. The news caused me to start channeling Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' five stages of grief, memorized eons ago in nursing school:

Stage one: Denial. I don't think I read the e-mail correctly. Surely they are not really ending the websites? Read the e-mail again. That can't be right. Read it one more time.

Stage two: Anger. What! They were still recruiting writers for 50-Something Moms last month! I just started blogging for these guys in April and now its over? I have spent HOURS learning to use their blog format, checking their guidelines, writing and rewriting my submissions, finding a photo source I like etc. and they are ending it? That is just rude.

Stage three: Bargaining. Please let them announce that they are starting something else and that they will still want me to be part of it. I promise I will get my posts done early in the month. I promise I will submit more than my required number of posts to make up for the blogger-slackers. Please let it go on. Please do not let it be ending. Please.

Stage four: Depression. The news is so sad I feel like crying. I love the blog site. I love reading and commenting on the posts, even when I disagree (so very sorry Ann Biddy--please forgive my lack of understanding of your situation). I love seeing my eight posts on the site. I love checking out the daily posts and the personal blogs of the writers. I love the book club. I feel so very sad, so very bummed.

Stage five: Acceptance. Oh alright. Now I'll have some spare time. Maybe I'll give up blogging entirely and have lots of spare time. I bet I can find another wonderful and even better blog site. Or I can go back to just focusing on my personal Channeling Ricky blog. I can make lemonade with my newly acquired lemons.

A key element of Kubler-Ross' grief stages that I recall from my nursing 101 memory bank is that you do not just go into one stage and stay there. You ride the stages like a roller-coaster, not knowing which stage you will be in next until zen-like acceptance (the end of the ride) finally arrives. Of course, some cyberspace readers probably will want to tell me that I have Kubler-Ross all wrong, but it has been 30-something years since nursing school. Two things start to go as you get older. The first is your memory and the second thing I have forgotten.

So it has been a rough week, a sad week, and I am just a newbie in the very large Silicon Valley Moms writers group of 400-something (so it has been reported) members. I can only fathom what the founders and administrative staff, who have been doing these collective websites for four years, are going through. Still, I imagine 400-something sad hearts, just like mine.

I shared my sadness with my 30-something computer genius, unemployed, non-professional but likely semi-pro skate boarder son who sympathetically listened and only said:

"It's the Internet Mom."

Out of the mouth of our babes comes the words of wisdom we seek. The only thing that stays the same is change. There will be other blogs, other collectives and writing opportunities. My blogging skills and my writing will continue to improve without this particular group connection. However, even though the Silicon Valley Moms are ending, I am still just getting started. I will keep blogging, but it will be different.

It will be lonely.

As I write what may well be my final blog for 50-Something Moms, the Beatles tune Hello, Hello plays in my head. The lyrics sum up my thoughts as I offer my personal goodbye to the 50-Something Moms and the whole of the Silicon Valley Moms group, the writers and the administrators:

"I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello."

This is an original post to the 50-Something Moms blog. When Sharon is not trying to make lemonade out of newly acquired lemons, she can be found blogging about mostly nostalgia, most of the time, at Channeling Ricky.

A Day in the Life of Caring for Aging Parents

2010-06-27T02:00:00-07:00

Four days ago, my 89-year-old FIL fell out of bed and hurt his neck and back. Today, my MIL asked me to help take him to the doctor. I couldn't imagine a worse way to spend a day, but naturally you have to say yes. Inheritances are at stake.

My husband is not an only child, but he is the youngest of four, and all his siblings have long ago left Memphis. That has left the responsibility of caring for his elderly parents solely on his shoulders. It's the one guilt I have about Elijah being an only child, that he alone will have to deal with the aging and passing of his parents. Hopefully, by then, he, too, will have a gracious and supportive wife to help him pick up the slack.

I arrived at the in-laws at 1:15 to pick them up for the 1:45 appointment. Mom had worked herself into a frenzy yelling at Dad, who was laying in bed in his boxer shorts, refusing to get dressed. It took 20 minutes of my best persuasive powers — all the while, my MIL's grating voice yelling in the background, "Jerrrrr-eeeee! Get out of the damn bed!!" `— to get him up, dressed and in the car.

I made my MIL ride in the backseat. My stress level was high enough already, the last thing I needed was to suffer the driving of an 86-year-old woman. I couldn't bear it. This turned out to be a mistake though, when we got to the doctor's office and she was unable to climb out of the backseat of the two-door car. She ended up with her legs out the door and her fanny on the floor of the backseat, lacking the strength in her legs to pull herself upright. It'd be hilarious if it weren't so...sad.

Once inside, the receptionist gave Mom six pages of paperwork to fill out, even though the same office saw Dad last year when he fell and broke his foot. Apparently, just updating the paperwork isn't sufficient. They need all 90 years of medical history re-recorded. AS IF IT'S CHANGED. The worst of it is, they didn't put Dad into the patient rotation until the paperwork was complete, and it took Mom a full hour to fill it all out. Two hours we sat in the waiting room, a 90-year-old man with an injured back trying to sit in a chair, my MIL forcing me into inane and pointless conversations.

I was starting to see why Dad didn't want to get out of bed.

By the time they called Dad's name, his back had completely locked up and he was unable to stand. "Does he need a wheelchair?" the nurse asked me.

"I don't know if he needs a wheelchair," I scowled at her. "He can't even stand. This is what happens when you leave a 90-year-old man with a back injury sitting for two hours."

"I'll see if I can get some help," she said, not really caring about my FIL or his back.

"That would be great," I sneered.

Two nice boys in scrubs came out to help Dad into a wheelchair. It was extraordinarily painful for him. Mom continued to chatter on about how the entire waiting area had practically cleared out or some such unnecessary observation. The doctor came into the exam room in rather short order, poked Dad in a couple places to determine the extent of the injury, and ordered x-rays to rule out any fractures. "Can he stand? We'll take them on the table."

"He's going to need help getting onto the table," I told him.

"Yes, well we don't really have the resources here to help with that sort of thing," the doctor said. "You probably should have gone to the ER when he fell."

"Yes, well he wasn't in nearly this bad of shape when we arrived," I informed him. "This is the result of sitting in your waiting room for two hours."

At that point, the two previously unavailable orderlies returned to help Dad onto the x-ray table. They were really very nice boys. The most friendly part of the day actually.

The x-ray tech asked me to come with her and we spent 30 minutes taking pictures of Dad's back and neck. It was torturous. Poor Dad cried out in pain as we tried to arrange him in such a way that the films would show the doctor what he needed to see. I had to hold Dad in positions he was unable to support himself. It seemed to go on forever.

Back in the exam room, Dad kept saying, "Take me home now," as though he still had some control over the situation. Mom just yelled at him. This is apparently a rule for 60+ years of marriage: If your husband no longer listens to you, YELL REALLY LOUD. CONSTANTLY. The doctor came in to talk to us. Mom kept interrupting him with needless information. "He has Alzheimer's." (He does not.) "He fell last year, too."

The gist of it was, he didn't think there were any fractures, but 90 years old, plus osteoporosis, plus an injury so close to the head...he'd feel better if we got a CAT scan. And we've made him an appointment for tomorrow. I laughed out loud. "Oh, he's not going to get back out tomorrow," I said. "Not after today."

I graciously allowed Mom to drive home. She provided an ongoing narration the entire time about the traffic and the weather and who lived in this house and the sprinklers in that house...seemingly oblivious to the fact that people would prefer not to hear chatter when they are stressed.

I texted my husband: "Going to fill Dad's Rx & bring it back to him, then will be home."

When I got back with the pills, Mom asked, "Why didn't Chip come with you today?"

"He's working, Mom."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping he could put together the bed rail."

I texted my husband: "Scratch that. I'm going to assemble your dad's bed rail and *then* I'll be home."

Six full hours after it all started, I finally made it home.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Chip said, coming toward me.

I gave him the hand, the universal sign for STOP. "Do not talk to me," I said. I tucked my six pack of cupcakes from Muddy's Bake Shop under my arm and headed for the bedroom. I was not angry at him. I was traumatized.

As I sat in my bed, eating cupcakes and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I wrote a living will for my son. It reads like this:

"When life is no longer fun, and we become more of a burden than we are a joy, you have my permission to put arsenic in our tea."

This is an original 50-something Moms blog post. In spite of the difficulties that aging parents present, Kalisa loves her in-laws and would never write about them on her personal blog, I'll Be the One in Heels.

Circadian Rhythms

2010-06-26T02:03:00-07:00

I have worked 12 hour night shifts as an RN for the last four years. It was not always a straight night shift schedule but rather a combination of days and nights, switching every three months, from days to nights, then back to days.

I like working nights, enjoying quiet moments with my infant patients and pleasant chats with my co-workers. However, night shift work can play havoc with your sleep cycle. I found the best way to deal with night shift was to go to sleep when I returned home and sleep until I was ready to get up. I would catch naps whenever I felt slightly sleepy. When on night shift, I took a lot of naps, before work and on my days off. Oh yeah, and I drank lots of caffeine whenever I needed to be awake.

It was also pleasant to come home from work at seven a.m. in the winter months on my husband's days off. He would roll over and let me have his warm side of the bed. Rainy days made for pleasant daytime sleeping. Our bedroom is dark and quiet, and if I needed assistance I used ear plugs and a sleep mask.

Back on day shift, I would try to get into my husband's work routine of getting up early and going to bed somewhat early. However, he liked to sleep in on his days off as well as stay up late before them and it was difficult for me to find a set routine while on day shift. I would still be adjusting from coming off nights and taking lots of naps to compensate for shift lag, which is just like jet lag, except it never really goes away.

My work place recently decided that rotating shifts should be eliminated. Since I have been a nurse longer than most of my co-workers on nights have been out of diapers, I was given a day shift job. No more rotating shifts for me.

On day shift, I tried to establish a regular routine. My husband's routine seemed to be get up at five a.m. when working, or ten a.m. or so when not working. For bedtime it was ten p.m. when working and 12 or one a.m. when not working. We keep our coffee pot in our bedroom and he makes the coffee before we go to bed so we wake up to coffee brewing and not an alarm clock. I would go to bed about ten p.m. and at midnight he would start organizing the coffee for the next day. It is not really an activity that one can do quietly in the bedroom or that I could sleep through. Within one month of trying to adapt to his routine, I was in worse shift lag shape than I had ever been working night shifts.

My live at home 30-something son's routine was just as bad, if not worse. He likes to sleep until at least noon and go to bed between three and four a.m. I would get up in the morning and one corner of our house was always dark, with his drawn shades or closed door. What's more, he sleeps in what had been my office, so I was hindered from entering my space, because he was sleeping.

Time for new rules and I was going to make them. Why did I get to make the rules? Because I am the mom and I am good at making rules, that's why.

For my son, wake up time is now ten a.m. He has to be home by midnight or he should not come home. He can go to bed at whatever time he likes but I better not hear him if I am trying to sleep.

For hubby we had to compromise. Make the coffee before I go to sleep or use the alarm clock to wake up with. Bed time can be whatever time he wants but I am going to bed about ten p.m. each night. Each non-work day we get up at eight a.m. or earlier. I wanted to get up earlier than eight a.m. on our days off as we get up at five on the work days, but eight was his best offer.

It is somewhat funny, if not empowering, when your family follows rules you have invented for them. But the new rules work. The parakeet is happier in a normal bird routine of early to bed and early to rise. The dog is perkier and has less accidents in her sleep room waiting for the family to get up. My son is home on time and his alarm goes off at ten a.m. like the clockwork it is. My husband never varies from the newly established routine, even when I pull the covers over my head as I contemplate sleeping longer. Everyone in the household has fallen into a natural pattern of circadian rhythms--mine, of course--just not theirs.

This is an original post to the 50-Something Moms Blog. When Sharon is not trying to get everyone to wake up or go to bed, she can be found blogging about mostly nostalgia, most of the time at her personal blog, Channeling Ricky.

A Weekend of Strawberries

2010-06-24T21:54:14-07:00

For one weekend every summer, June 26-27 this year, the quaint town of Cedarburg, Wisconsin becomes the celebration epicenter for the succulent, mouth watering star of summer: the strawberry. Historic Cedarburg, Wisconsin will be holding what is now their 25th annual Strawberry Festival. The entire town will offer strawberries, and prepare strawberries, in every possible edible way. And 10,000 visitors last year were all the happier for it.

The weekend's activities begin with "The Berry Big Run," a 5k run/walk that begins at 8AM, benefiting BigBrothers/BigSisters of Ozaukee County. After the run, the town's streets are open as a Festival Walk of Art, where artists and vendors from all over the greater Midwest are showcased. There will be artwork, jewelry, music, food courts, boutique style items, handmade toys, and more.

For those who truly love strawberries, there is a strawberry shortcake eating contest, bobbing for berries at the "berry bop," and a strawberry bubble gum blowing contest. A large farmer's market features, of course, strawberries, as well as home grown flowers, fruits and vegetables, jams, jellies, bakery, and soaps.

Have you ever been taken to a strawberry patch where you can pick your own strawberries, via a hayride? Yes, they have that. You can also buy freshly picked strawberries in bursting full containers. Try one of the many recipes provided at the stands, for new ideas. There is a kid's corner, with make and take crafts, bouncing pits, games, pony rides, and, of course, strawberry popsicles and slushes.

Cedar Creek runs through the town, and these flowing waters are used for the duck races, where you can place your rubber ducky in the water, and see who the currents will boost as the winner. At the bandshell in the town's central park, there will be a "strawberry jam," where 6 high school bands will battle for the title of best of the best in entertainment. Lay a blanket down, and sip some strawberry wine, and enjoy the outdoor music.

The fun continues on Sunday, where last year over 1,000 early risers were served a down-on-the-farm strawberry pancake breakfast. You will also find 2 large food courts, which offer an amazing selection of all things strawberry: strawberry slushes, strawberry crepes, strawberry salsa, strawberry ice cream, and our original strawberry bratwursts. You can enjoy unique strawberry wines by the glass, made here at the local winery, Cedar Creek Wines.

All along the Arts on the Avenue, you will see our Pleine Aire Arts competition, where artists from all over the United States come here to paint outdoors and try for the best of show prize of $2,000.00. This competition is open to children, as well, so bring along your art easels and tools of choice.

Live music is featured in several areas throughout the town, the festival is free and takes place June 26 and 27. Cedarburg is 30 minutes from downtown Milwaukee, and is a place where I can proudly tell you to make sure you have enough room on your camera, because you will see charming photo opportunities everywhere. Once you've been to Strawberry Festival, you will never again be satisfied with "just eating" a strawberry!

This is an original post for 50-something Moms Blog. You can find Alexandra working at the strawberry salsa booth this weekend, where she will bend your ear on why she loves her small town. She can also be found blogging at her personal blog, Good Day, Regular People, where she writes of life in a small town. You can follow her on twitter.

Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok: A SV Moms Group Book Club

2010-06-23T01:00:00-07:00

Transplanted from Hong Kong to New York City as a (very poor) young girl with her mother, Ah-Kim or Kimberley, struggled to make things better for her family, to learn English, to walk the line between traditional Chinese duties and the Americanized teenager she grew into. Join us today as we discuss the book Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok.

Here are what the SV Moms Group contributors ave to say today, all inspired by the book Girl in Translation:

Marinka from Motherhood in NYC tells her immigration story in America, Baby
Pamela from 2 Much Testosterone felt empowered
Emily from Mama Sick has hope for her son
Sharon from Channeling Ricky recognizes her own childhood embarrassment
Vanessa from Chefdruck Musings goes for a taste of America
April from It's All About Balance is a girl in gratitude
Emily Paster from West of the Loop examines secrets below the surface
Melanie from tales from the crib just wanted to fit in
Elena from Cara Mamma reflects on dreaming big
Lisa H. from Hannemaniacs has aunts just like Aunt Paula
Alma from Marketing Mommy had culture shock
Kristine from Mommy Needs Therapy or a Bottle of Wine was moved by the reality of immigrants who come to the U.S. for a "better" life
Rox from Rox and Roll has thoughts about honor
Julie from Just Precious opens her eyes in her own neighborhood
Jen B from Anybody Want A Peanut? tries to translate autism

Silicon Valley Moms Blog is hosting the book club discussion this month. Please leave a comment here to join in the discussion.

Past SV Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

I am Nujood, Aged 10 and Divorced by Nujood Ali
The Body Scoop for Girls by Dr. Jennifer Ashton
Just Let Me Lie Down by Kristin van Ogtrop, Editor of REAL SIMPLE magazine
National Geographic's Green Guide Families by Catherine Zandonella
Top 100 Finger Foods and Top 100 Baby Purees by Annabel Karmel
The Possibility of Everything by Hope Edelman
The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex by Kristen Chase
Coco Chanel & Igr Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh
See Mom Run by Beth Feldman
Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind by Phillip Done
This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Topper
Do One Nice Thing by Debbie Tenzer
Birth Day by Mark Sloan, M.D.
What Happened to the Girl I Married? by Michael Miller
Testimony by Anita Shreve
Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs
Much to Your Chagrin by Suzanne Guilette
It Started with Pop-Tarts by Lori Hanson
Who By Fire by Diana Spechler
The White Trash Moms Handbook by Michelle Lamar
Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues
The Vaccine Book by Dr. Robert W. Sears
The Other Mother by Gwendolen Gross

Click here to read all about the SV Moms Group Book Club.

A Vacation They'll Remember

2010-06-22T05:00:00-07:00

I marched up the sandy hill, in what must have been my fifth trip heading back to our rented cabin on Lake Michigan. I was thirsty, my skin an itchy mix of sand and sunscreen, and I was hungry. I sighed loudly, shaking my head with the thought of "this is a vacation?"

As I trudged onward on sand filled watershoes, I could hear the joyous shouts of 5 boys recreating battle scenes on the beach behind me, armed with water cannons. "Sure, " I thought, "of course they're happy. I'm doing all the work, where's my vacation?" I had to laugh at myself, I fell into this trap every year. Every year that we summer on this beach in Michigan, I begin the first day of our vacation, with these types of thoughts.

I quickly remember back to my first vacation as a parent. I naively thought back then, that vacation with family, would mean vacation for me. I wondered why no one had warned me that those days of having things done for me while on a family vacation, were gone. I was now the mother, I was now the one who made it all happen. Who did I think was going to do all the packing, and bed making, and sweeping, and cooking?

I am able to laugh at myself now, and to laugh at myself back then, so many years ago. Yes, it is a lot of work, and there are hours that go into creating this wonderful time for our children. But, I realize, someone did it for me when I was younger. Now, I am the someone, we-- as parents-- are the someone, who make it magically a memory. We are the ones who provide the fresh sheets on the beds, the cold popsicles brought down at just the right time, we are the ones who take care with the sunscreen and reapply throughout the day, just as the bottle instructs us to.

We are the ones who will have lunch ready and waiting just as their thoughts turn to, "I wish it was time to eat!" We will pick the dishes and glasses up, and put it all away, while they return to their work of being who they are, and of filling me with unspeakable heart bursting joy at the sound of their games.

Becoming a parent means growing up, and growing as a person in so many ways. It means realizing that it is their turn now, not ours. I think it's normal to be shocked that very first vacation as a parent, to perhaps feel disbelief, and wonder that you never realized this is what it would be like. After that first baptism by the fire of the first vacation with you in charge, you come to appreciate your role. The role of the one that is going to be forever in the memory of the childhood vacations at the beach. The one who provides the orange and blue popsicles that stain their lips, popsicles that arrive at just the right time. The one who magically sets up the shade tent by laying blankets across beach trees--the very same shade tents that will soon enough serve the dual purpose of an "army barracks" to 5 boys.

Growing up means giving up many things, but it also blesses you with the role of being the one privileged enough to create such magic in a magical time of life: childhood. When a conversation with a new mother turns to the subject of vacations, and I hear her lament of the amount of work involved and the "vacation she'll need after the vacation," I feel the camaraderie of someone who knows. I laugh and say, "I remember my first vacation as a mother, I really thought I would have a vacation, too!" Soon, we are both laughing, and realize this is another sweet pass into the club of motherhood.

This is an original post to 5 0something Moms Blog. Alexandra blogs at her personal site gooddayregularpeople.com, where she writes of life raising boys in a small town along Lake Michigan.You can also follow her on Twitter.

Letting Go of Toys and Memories

2010-06-21T05:00:00-07:00

My sister and I have yard sales together, once or twice a year, and always at her house. I was loading my granddaughter's Fisher-Price toy kitchen into my SUV and my husband objected. "You aren't going to sell Allison's kitchen are you?"

Yes, I was. Our granddaughter Allison doesn't visit us anymore (see Babies and More Babies, May 17, 2010) and if she did, Allison is now nine and not going to be too interested in a little girl's toddler-size toy.

Hanging on to my granddaughter's baby things seems to make me miss her more. I believe her mother may let us see Allison again in the future, but until then, I want to think about the situation as little as possible. I do not want to daily see Allison's things to remind me that she is gone. Also Allison is growing up and in my mind, I have to let her grow up. My husband, on the other hand, takes comfort in seeing Allison's toys and remembering her many visits to our house. We each deal with the loss of Allison's presence in our lives in our own way.

I took the play kitchen to the yard sale.

At the yard sale, I informed my co-hostesses that I wanted $20.00 for the kitchen. I had originally purchased it used for $15.00. I had added dishes and play food to the kitchen, most of which I did not remember to bring along to the long-distance yard sale. Allison had played with the kitchen over and over when she was two--making us pretend meals, serving us make-believe coffee and charging us play money for her efforts--until she was seven and we no longer saw her. I had gotten my real money's worth out of the play kitchen.

Yard sale shoppers at my sister's house were not really looking for kitchens for kids. They shopped for adult items such as tools, house decor and electronics. No one seemed too interested in Allison's kitchen and I thought I would be driving it back home later in the day. Then a 50-something woman shopper appeared. She got out of her car and went straight to the kitchen, asked the price but then she left. I guessed she thought it was too much money. However, in about half an hour she returned with her husband.

She asked if I would take $15.00 for the kitchen. I said yes and I demonstrated the features of the kitchen: the doors that open, the knobs that click as they are turned, the cash register that pings when it is opened and reveals two plastic checker-size coins. The woman told me she wanted the kitchen for her 18- month-old granddaughter.

Then I wanted her to have it.

The woman's husband was not so easily sold, and obviously money was a little tight for them. He said the toy kitchen was dirty and would need to be cleaned. He asked if I would take $10.00 for it. I said no, as I had already lowered my price for his wife. I told him the kitchens sell for about $60.00 new and his wife agreed readily with my statement. I walked away from Allison's kitchen to let the couple discuss what they were going to do. The woman had gathered other items to buy from the yard sale and she returned the items to the tables as an offer of compromise to her husband for the purchase of the kitchen. The couple left with what would no longer be Allison's kitchen. I saw the woman was close to ecstatic as I heard her tell her husband how much their granddaughter would enjoy playing with the kitchen and the accessories she could add to the kitchen for her.

Although all thoughts and emotions were contained at the moment by myself I was also close to ecstatic for the 50-something grandmother of the unknown little granddaughter. I was also just a little sad to see this piece of my granddaughter's childhood leaving forever. I knew this passing along of a special toy was as it was meant to be.

And I was sure they would get their money's worth from their $15.00 purchase.

This is an original post to the 50-Something Moms Blog. When Sharon is not traveling 80-something miles to her sister's yard sales, she can be found blogging about mostly nostalgia, most of the time at her personal blog, Channeling Ricky.

College Students and Jury Duty

2010-06-18T12:41:13-07:00

Many students go to school in a state other than their own when they head off to college. They may get a jury duty notice from their home state while away, and usually they can postpone jury duty until they graduate without having to ever appear at a courthouse. This is all very reasonable. Then there is Massachusetts.

Massachusetts has 121 institutions for higher education within its relatively small area. To take advantage of a tremendous jury pool it calls students that are citizens of other states, but go to school in Massachusetts, for jury duty. These students are not allowed to postpone it by phone or online or mail. They must spend a day in court and ask the judge to grant a postponement. In the meantime, these kids are also being called for jury duty in their home state!

This is so wrong and unfair for so many reasons:

It doesn't seem right that anybody could be called for jury duty by two states.
How can a state call a non-citizen for jury duty?
A student that attends school out-of-state is usually only in that state when school is in session. They almost always go back home during all vacations so that they can see their loved ones, get jobs, etc. Very often, dorms close during these times. During short school holidays such as Columbus Day, the courts are closed.
This is a great one - The phone number on the Massachusetts jury duty notice to call for all questions or problems is a number that can only be accessed from a Massachusetts phone number. Isn't that rich? Out-of-state students who only have a cell phone (nobody gets a land line in college anymore) can not call this number. Is there something wrong with this?

I think serving on a jury is a great experience and everyone should do it. However a college student should not have to miss classes or stay at school during vacation time to do so. There are many problems with the jury process to begin with, but many of these would be difficult to fix. This Massachusetts out-of-state student juror issue is something that should be looked into and hopefully abolished.

Original 50-something Moms Blog Post by Jennifer Wagner who also writes at the New York Parenting Teens Examiner and Connect with your Teens through Pop Culture and Technology. Jennifer also has a law degree from New York University.