I often joke that if I knew what a worrywart parent I was going to be I would have only had one child instead of three.  Because it must be less work obsessing over the safety of one than a bunch, right? I think about the folks I know with four, five, seven children (yes, my son’s best buddy is one of seven), and I wonder less about how they feed all those kids and more about how their hearts hold up with all that anxiety and concern. “Is he normal?”  “Will he make it home safely?” “Fall off his bike? Off the jungle gym? Off his bed?” “Will he choke on that? Trip over that ledge?  Smack her …

Now that I am a mom, I find that I often look back at my childhood and consider the kind of girl I was, and then I think to myself, “Boy, were my parents lucky.” I was a really good girl. I stayed far away from the three evils: drugs, alcohol, teen age pregnancy. I wasn’t perfect; I was a hot-tempered drama queen. But I was good enough in the way that matters most to parents. The kind of good that frees them from an overabundance of agita, heartbreak, or pain. I spent my school age years getting fairly good grades, avoiding trouble, and aligning myself with the types of girls who preferred …

I’ve always thought that, in another life, I might have been a psychologist. The only thing is, I don’t really have the constitution to counsel people through serious depression, debilitating anxiety, significant tragedies, or worse, plain old psychopathic behavior. No, I just like to help people figure things out; listen to their everyday concerns; and coach them through transitions. I particularly like to sit with other parents, listen to their parenting struggles, and regurgitate all the advice I’ve stored up through the years (either in therapy of my own or from books, magazines, …

Before you have children, Spring Break represents a time off from work or studies; an opportunity to get obliterated in Cancun; or at the very least an excuse to chill out in front of the TV with a bowl of Marshmallow Peeps and four hours of Charlton Heston. Once you have children, however, there is the Spring Break of your fantasies and there is Spring Break in actuality. Guess which one more resembles a Griswald family vacation? When I think back to vacations I took with my family as a kid, I’m sorry to admit that my memories are populated more by the drama than the fun. And now that I have…

Because of my interest in holistic health and wellness and conscious living, people often assume I am “green.” For sure, I certainly live a more eco-friendly lifestyle than a lot of my family, friends, and neighbors. But most of that is by default: A healthier, non-toxic lifestyle is typically a greener one. That said, I’m not a nature lover. I’m not a hiker, nor a comfortable outdoors woman. I prefer admiring animals from afar, and certainly do not want the responsibility of caring for any as pets. If I were to guess, my aversion to both nature and animals has a lot to do with how they make …

I’ve written before about my confidence (and sometimes pleasure) when engaging in a discussion regarding the stay-at-home/working mom debate. This is mostly due to what I consider a competitive advantage; I’ve spent time playing for a bunch of the various teams. In the more than eight years since I gave birth to my first child, I have been a full-time working mom, a full-time stay-at-home mom, and a part-time working mom. I’ve been employed by a family-friendly employer, by a family-unfriendly employer, and I’ve been self-employed. I feel as if I know intimately the plusses and minuses of …

The other day as I enjoyed a nice, hot, lavender-scented bath, I noticed a few flutterings in my lower abdomen. If I didn’t know better, I might have gently caressed my belly as the poking from the inside made its way from left to right. I might also have freaked out. Another woman, part of a couple who hadn’t been “fixed,” might have been nervous. Uh-oh, this other woman might have thought. Did I miss something? As in, my period? Am I ripe for TLC’s “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant?” I, on the other hand, knew the offender was most likely gas. I can’t remember if bubbles inside my belly were so…

When you decide to have more than one kid, you’re not just affecting the family dynamic or your financial future, but you’re also determining what kind of parent you get to be. When I was the mom of one, despite being a full-time working mom, I was also a class parent. I scrapbooked his every milestone. I took him to library story time on my lunch hour, and borrowed Raffi CDs to listen to in the car. I spoke a second language to him, and kept the TV off save for “educational programming” like Baby Einstein or “musical theater,” such as “The Wiggles.” I made his organic baby food from scratch …

I’m able to answer this question too quickly, particularly this week, in the face of natural disasters (such as the earthquake and tsunami in Japan last week) or man-made tragedies (such as the murder of innocent children in Itamar, Israel). The world is fragile. It’s this worldview of mine that has led me to the psychotherapist’s office or the gastroenterologist over the years; to yoga and to self-help books. I am very much aware of the influence fear has on my life and I am in action to shift what is often a paralyzing life perspective. In other words, being scared sucks. And since I do not…

Up until now, we’ve always lived in houses on busy streets. Our last house in New Jersey was on a county road: We didn’t even have a sidewalk and, despite being a well-known trap for traffic stops, people still drove way over the speed limit. Needless to say, it wasn’t the best spot to teach your kid how to ride a bike. And so, year after year, summer after summer, we kept putting it off. Last summer, when Tobey was seven, was the first time we actually made somewhat of a concerted effort to teach him. One Sunday morning, we packed his hand-me-down bicycle into the minivan and schlepped it …

Going into parenthood, you have somewhat of an idea of the types of hurdles you might meet along the way—potty training, teaching your kid how to read, or navigating peer pressure. You know that there are some areas in which you’re fairly competent, and others in which you could use the help of a book or an expert. Then there are some situations that arise that completely paralyze you—because the subject matter hurls you back in time to your own youth. And it can be difficult to keep a level head when your child is struggling with matters you never quite found the solution to, but somehow …

It is said “the family that plays together stays together.” But I’d suggest there is something to be said for playing apart. In my dream world, or so I think, I’d be one half of a happily married, carefree couple parenting three easygoing, low maintenance cherub-like children. My husband would share my interests in holistic health, ESP, and self-help books. My kids would not only enjoy each other’s company, but also be able to ease in and out of confrontations with quiet loving guidance from me or their unruffled father. (They each would also have a unique talent—like spelling prowess or …

Yesterday, after we had just diffused a potential three-way meltdown in the backseat of our teeny tiny car, my husband turned to me and said, “Shouldn’t there be some sort of psychological evaluation and mandatory blood testing before two people procreate?” In a nutshell, he was implying that our mating was irresponsible—that mixing our genes produced a breed of super-cute, but super-crazy children. In that moment, as my littlest was pulling my middle one’s hair and the middle one was pinching his older brother’s ear, my husband’s reasoning was difficult to counter. Was he right? If we lived …

There are some parenting conversations that are almost too hot button to even approach. One of the hottest has got to be “to spank or not to spank.” Many parents will say this is a “very personal decision.” I don’t agree. I think that hitting a child—even in the name of, let’s say, teaching him the danger of running into the middle of the street—is more of a release of frustration or anger for the parent, as opposed to a long-term effective means of discipline. Unlike choosing between public or private school or carefully deciding when to take away the pacifier, I don’t think spanking is a …

I know I’m not the only mother who wishes her children could enjoy the same type of freedom I did as a kid. When I grew up in suburban New Jersey in the 70s and 80s, we neighborhood kids played without adult supervision for hours after school and on the weekends. We’d shout to our mothers, “See you later!” and meet up with whomever was around to play kickball, kick the can, or tag. From the age of nine or 10, I was even allowed to hop on my bike and ride over to my friend’s house alone. There were no cell phones, no check-ins at all, really, if I remember correctly. The expectation was that …

I have three kids. The first one is pretty much a carbon copy of me, with a little bit of his dad thrown in for good measure. Once he learned to talk, parenting him was pretty easy. I could relate to him, particularly to his unique brand of behavior that specialists label “sensitivities.” His annoyance with t-shirt labels, for one. His need, until he was five or six, for the skin to be completely peeled off apples before he would eat them. His irritability when his baby brother cried or the lawn mower mowed too loud or too close. His hyper-sensitive gag reflex. I’m also a sensitive person, …

It’s a new year for all of you there in New Jersey. But — for me and my family —it’s a new life. Mostly because we’re not in New Jersey any longer. We’re in Israel. Moving to Israel is a long-time dream fulfilled for my husband and me but — save for the sleepy, jet-lagged haze I continue to feel a week after we landed at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion airport with 60 other new immigrants — our experience hasn’t been dream-like. It’s been a nightmare. The nightmare started with the Dec. 27 blizzard that kept us from traveling from South Jersey (where we were for the holiday) to our home in North Jersey…

Ask any mom: It only takes one kid old enough to talk in full sentences before your own parenting wisdom, rules, and advice come back to bite you in the ass.Yes, it only takes a few years of careful guiding and, more often than not, imploring before:Your son tells you to "take a deep breath" when you're freaking out about the spilled juice on the couch.Your daughter puts her hands on her hips and says defiantly, "This is not a yelling house!"All three kids gang up on you when you sneak a cookie from the cabinet to admonish, "No sugary treats before dinner!"During these moments, if you're me, …

Want to know a secret? Despite my belief in and praise for alternative therapies, I, too, wonder if they work and are worth the money. I wonder if the yoga mantras and deep breathing are enough to eliminate the high amount of stress I feel right now. I wonder if the $200 I just charged to my AmEx for "therapeutic grade supplements" will translate into hormone balance and decreased risk of cancer. I wonder if I should regret the time I spent visiting my chiropractor three times a week in the hopes of having a natural birth after a Cesarean. (Considering I ended up with a C-section any way...) …

I love getting into thoughtful conversations or even heated arguments with other mothers about whether it's better to work or stay at home with your children. In fact, a few years back I selected for our book club choice "Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety" by Judith Warner with the intent purpose of sparking heated debate.I'll tell you, only with partial remorse, the evening ended in tears.Why do I enjoy one of the most controversial topics that even the closest of girlfriends avoid like the plague? Because I've done it all. And it's this truth that offers me complete immunity…