Janice Eidus Archives - Mothering in the Middle

Culture Vulture

by Janice Eidus

I became a first time parent in middle age. Prior to that, I had a long run immersed in the cultural life of New York City, where I lived, and still live. My cultural palate was diverse and full, and I felt humbled and grateful to be deeply connected to a world so richly filled with art and artists.

I had a big social life, and most of my friends were people I’d met at artist colonies, where I often spent time writing. The friends I made were novelists, poets, screenwriters, painters, sculptors, composers, and musicians.

Fast forward to my new life as the first time mother of an infant daughter. I was simply too exhausted to do much socializing or event-hopping. I got by on so little sleep, and had so little free time, I didn’t have it in me to linger over lunch with a poet friend to discuss her latest chapbook.

When I did have time to socialize, I often did it with my daughter in tow, and it tended to be with other new parents, which whom I could discuss the minutia of diaper rash, diaper changing, and the best type of stroller for city streets, rather than the use of metaphor in the latest French avant-garde film. I was far less obsessed with the arts at that point than with my daughter’s “art” of projectile vomiting. […]

Mother’s Day

by Janice Eidus

Mine wasn’t a happy family. My angry, volatile father tyrannized us, and my mother was depressed most of the time. Yet Mother’s Day was important to us, a day in which we could honor my mother without sarcasm or cruelty, both of which permeated our household. Out of construction paper, I made her homemade cards, and with my allowance money, bought her inexpensive perfume or face lotion.

I didn’t think much about the gifts. I just went to the local pharmacy and pulled them off the shelves. My mother was always very grateful, although I felt detached from her at the moment of gift giving: yes, she was my mother; yes, I loved her; but no – I couldn’t fully give myself over to celebrating her. Things were just too grim in our home. […]

Becoming Jewish

by Janice Eidus

The first time my husband and I (both middle aged) gazed at the photograph we’d been sent of the black haired, ten-day-old baby girl who we were in the process of adopting from Guatemala, we instantly fell head over heels in love with her. And we knew we wanted to raise her to be Jewish, something neither of us had predicted.

I’d grown up with atheist, left-wing parents, lifelong, fiery champions of the oppressed, via civil rights and union activism. They considered themselves Jewish – and were sensitive to anti-Semitism — but didn’t celebrate or observe any Jewish customs or traditions. When asked directly about their Jewish identities, they declared themselves, “Atheists first, Jews second.” […]

Second Chance

by Janice Eidus

Twelve years ago, in middle age, you and your husband begin the process of adopting a child from Guatemala. You’re assured by your lawyers that the adoption will go quickly, and that within a few months, you’ll be a mother. Still, you’re intimidated by the seemingly endless mounds of paperwork, and by how you must be fingerprinted and meet numerous times with social workers and lawyers. You assure yourself that it’s all worth it to become the mother of a child who needs you, and whom you need. […]