Worried Mommy


I have to be honest with you.  I worry about my child.  There is this little nagging voice in my head that rears itself every once in a while…and it happened again today.  I was at story time today at the library.  It wasn’t going too well for O.  He didn’t want to sit and listen.  The craft was WAY beyond him (He’d rather eat the glue stick) and he was yawning before we even got there.  I should have known it wasn’t going to go smoothly.   Sure enough, it proved to be a difficult outing.  I know there are days like this.  But some days his lack of engagement and conformity fill me with worry.

I wonder how much is his personality.  Everything since his birth, has been on his time and his terms.    Heck, he didn’t come out on his own.  We had to go in there and get him!  Every milestone so far has been accomplished when HE was good and ready.  OR… is there perhaps some sort of problem or delay? At this age (20 months) it can be very confusing.  I only notice things when he is around other children.  Because normally, I have nothing to compare him to.  And I know, I know, we aren’t supposed to compare our children.  But it just happens.  You see other kids who are around the same age and you are wondering why do they sit still and listen to the story?  Why do they follow directions?  Why won’t my child?  There are days when he does….but they are few.  I always feel like socializing is one step forward and two steps back, with my O.  He is also VERY attached to Mommy.  Which makes socialization that much harder.  He will engage with me happily, but he has very little interest in new people….even other children.  Maybe I’m doing it all wrong?

I am trying to assess where my worry regarding O is coming from.  Is it the winter doldrums? Is it us being cooped up in the house these past weeks due to sickness?  Is there any merit to my worry?  Does every mom worry? Do moms of advanced maternal age worry more?  And am I worried more because he is my only child?  Already pangs of guilt are entering my mind because he doesn’t have a sibling.  Not for lack of trying to give him one.  But, thus far, it doesn’t seem to be in the cards.  I can see the links on this worry chain will continue to accumulate if I don’t get it in check.

I was telling my husband the other night, that being at home with O is by far, the hardest job I have ever had….and the most important.  I just don’t want to screw it up.  And yet, everyday, I feel that somehow I am letting this child down.  You know my tagline.  “Behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.”  It’s soooo true.  And some weeks, it’s truer than others.  And it’s so hard not to be hard on myself.  I feel like it’s all on me sometimes.  What if I miss something? What if he is having a delay and I don’t get him the help he needs?  It’s my fault.  Maybe I baby him too much? Well, I know that’s true.

You know, I really feel that I owe O everything.  In some Miracle of Life creation, this glorious soul picked us to be his parents! The joy and meaning he brings to both my husband and I is beyond anything, I think, either of us could have ever imagined.  It’s powerful and its profound.  It is heaven made.  But.. we also have to live day to day on the earth, with our feet on the ground, taking each step, one foot in front of the other.  I think I just solved my own problem.  It is so so easy to let the magnitude of this job, that has been entrusted to us, take over.  It is, at times, overwhelming.  But our child is who he is. It is already determined.  Will it all reveal itself in time? Yes.  Will we deal with each hurdle and each triumph, as they come…one day at a time?  Of course, because that’s what we as parents do.  The worry is futile.  It is wasted energy.

I thank you from the bottom of my humble and sometimes worrisome heart.  Confiding in you has let me find my way off the latest parental ledge.  It’s not easy stuff.  Sometimes having someone to bounce things off of, be it a real person or a cyber friend, makes all the difference.  Knowing we aren’t alone is everything.

Until next time, thanks for reading, and remember (it’s the TRUTH) behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Xo


Here It Comes


Well, there is snow on the skylight.  I’m under a faux fur blanket and my luxurious long underwear are certainly getting some “wear time.”  I’ve been avoiding writing this post, like I do many…but this one in particular seems to be my hardest thus far.  You see, I’d like to lie to you.  I’d like to fill the screen with fibs and fantasy. But that wasn’t our agreement.  No.  I promised to honestly examine what it is like to be a new mother of advanced maternal age.  So here it goes….or should I say, here it comes?

No one really wants to talk about it.  Certainly not me.  How I have escaped it up til now, I don’t know. Some women deal with it much earlier, so I’m thankful at least for that.  Oh, God, Mary, just say it!  Ok! Ok! Perimenopause.  There I’ve said it.  In simpler terms it means the beginning of “the change.” Right now all it means to me is night sweats at certain times of the month.  Icky, cruddy, soaking pajama top night sweats.  Night sweats suck.  Just getting that out there.  But for some it can include many more symptoms like daily hot flashes, loss of sex drive, pain during intercourse…among other fun things.  Ugh.  Good times, eh?

I am actually having a difficult time accepting this upcoming change in my body.  I don’t like it.  My doctor says I can still get pregnant, so that isn’t what is bothering me.  It’s just the fact that finally my body is telling me that I am getting older.  I always felt like I could defy it, at least within reason.  But this onset can’t be avoided with clean eating, more crunches at the gym, or more miles logged on the treadmill.  It can’t be hidden by creams, serums, or Botox.  It’s the real deal.  It’s the beginning of a bridge taking you to the next phase of your life.  As much as I talk about wanting to age gracefully, I feel like I’m on the one side of that bridge….resisting going forward….but the bridge is actually a moving walkway…it doesn’t stop because I wish it so.  It is just like Time always proves to be…relentless.  There is no spanner to throw in this wheel to stop it spinning.  It is all how nature intended.  I just thought Mother Nature and I had a special understanding. Ha.

Yesterday at story time at our local library I looked around at the other adults in the room.  It was either young moms or youngish grandmothers.  It occurred to me that I fall somewhere in between these groups of women.  I made  friends with some of the moms, and realized that, although we can relate through our children, I can’t actually relate to them on a personal level.  Not really.   And the same goes for the older women there.  I find myself on my own plane.  Running after my toddler waiting for a hot flash to zap me.  It’s bizzaro world.  Does that make any sense?

I know, I know. I’m ungrateful. I’m superficial. I’m whining about something that happens to every woman, eventually. How dare I be annoyed at Mother Nature when she has really been so good to me. I should be so thankful that I am healthy. That I rocked a bikini up until I had O at 44! That I have escaped so many things that can afflict us. And mostly, I should be grateful that the powers of life, let me conceive and give birth to a beautiful healthy son. And I am!! So very grateful. I’m just whining…and maybe feeling some of those mood swings that can also hit you during this time.  Most of all, I’m feeling sorry for myself. Like my wise Mother-in law tells me, time and time again…this too shall pass.

Until next time, I’ll keep battling through my own personal Bikram Bedtime.  Keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading.  Xo.

It Is What It Is


Well, I don’t know about you, but this holiday weekend has left me completely wiped out.  We hosted Thanksgiving dinner for 10 people and a dog, had my parents visiting with us all week, and had our bathroom remodel project commence.  Well, just about.  There are a few things the contractors still need to attend to.  Getting them back here is going to be a headache for sure.  Ugh.  I am digressing, as usual.  Suffice it to say, I’d like to take a long long bath in our new tub.  That’s a great idea.

Of course, all the happenings I just listed were all fraught with bumps and hiccups.  Isn’t everything? I kept the phrase, “It is what it is,” going around in my head like a mantra.  Cause it’s just the truth.  Nothing turns out like you wish it to.  You can plan your Thanksgiving dinner for 4pm, but, if you are us, it’s more like 6pm.  You can try your hardest to please people, but, if you are me, you usually wind up disappointed at the response.  And you can expect a certain level of workmanship from a craftsman, but if you are a perfectionist like me, their work most likely will come up short.  I sound like I’m whining.  I’m really not.  It’s just an exhausted response…but in my heart of hearts I know it is what it is.

The same goes for our project sibling.  No success with conception to date.   While the “trying” is fun, it’s also exhausting.  After two months of no bun in the oven, I am getting the feeling that it may just not happen.  I promised myself I would be ok with it.  But, of course, I feel the pang of disappointment, even if I am keeping it in check.  I think it’s harder to see the look of disappointment on my husband’s face.  It’s was so easy last time, I think he thought it would happen just as quickly the second time around.  But I know that my body is 2 years older than the last time.  I can feel the difference in my body, though no one might be able to see it.  Do any of you gals in your 40’s or higher know what I’m talking about? It’s so strange.  It’s like aging starts to accelerate from within.  It’s totally weird.  So I truly leave it up to God and the Universe.  It is what it is.  And it will be what it will be.

I find the lack of my ability to control the outcome oddly comforting.  I’m glad it’s not up to me.  I get to sit back and wait and see what happens.  I get to have Faith.  I get to Trust in something greater than myself.  I get to say, “It is what it is” and mean it.  And I am reminded everyday that I am not pregnant, I am so so lucky to have the beautiful child I do have.

Until next time, enjoy your left overs and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up.  I’m going to soak in a hot tub with a glass of Pinot Noir.  Thanks so much for reading xo.


Sexy Mommy Happy Family


I recently shared our “project” to attempt getting pregnant again.  As fun as it can be,  it is also quite a commitment.  It requires energy.  Something that after being up since 6am, running around after a toddler since 7:30am, I am on short supply of most days.  It also, I’m finding, requires effort.  I’m not talking  about “the act” itself.  I’m talking about getting myself feeling ready for a “tumble.”  I never thought I’d say this, but feeling sexy can be a challenge for me as a stay at home mom.  So here are a few things I find myself doing to combat that:

I get dressed.  Everyday.  Sweatpants more than two days in a row is bad.  Even if I’m not going out, I put on something that makes me feel good.  Sweatpants don’t make anyone feel good.  They make you feel comfy and cozy….but not sexy.  Now yoga pants can make me feel sexy if paired with a cute lulu lemon top…but again, not worn on consequetive days.  Also, not to be forgotten, I try to wear a sexy bra.  NOTHING is sexy about a jog bra.  NOTHING.

I take the time to put some light makeup on.  This is not for my husband, who literally could care less if I ever put makeup on again. This is totally for me.  Again, even if I’m not going out, it makes ME feel pretty. It’s something small that goes a long way.  Being totally honest, it’s not super easy being the oldest Mom at the story time, or at the market.  In some small way it helps me feel like I might avoid the “Is that your grandson?” comment.  (God help me when THAT happens).

I shave my legs and underarms.  I use a great shaving gel that keeps my skin nice and smooth and hydrated.  Thank you Trader Joes.  I am a big advocate of “au naturale” but let’s be frank, hairy legs and pits don’t scream “sexy time.” I also use lovely lotions on my limbs and a spritz of perfume.  Smelling good is a huge part of being desired by my husband.  I love it when he comes home, embraces me and takes a huge breath to take in my scent.  Let that be a positive experience for him.

Beyond all the superficial things (which are valid), I think there are more important things involved in feeling sexy.  These are things which may not be as simple to do on a daily basis.  I try to challenge myself each day to do something I think I might not be able to do.  Because it gives me confidence.  And confidence is sexy.  I try to find the humor in everything I do and in most experiences, each day.  Because funny is sexy.  I practice gratitude daily because happy is sexy.  I am not always successful in accomplishing these things…but I try.  And trying, is, yup, you bet, sexy.

I understand that these last points are the true keys to feeling and, in fact, being sexy.  Maybe that is the allure of the “older woman?”  Lol!  Maybe it’s the amount of pheromones we ladies on the older side of young emit into the atmosphere? Who knows? Who cares? What I do know is that for me, sexy is as much a state of mind as it is anything else.  You can have the perfect makeup on and the most expensive perfumes…hell, you can be wearing a piece of dental floss from Victoria’s Secret, but if you don’t “own” being sexy, well. you’re just not.  I mean, really…ever have an orgasm when your head wasn’t in the game? Right.  Enough said.  Sexy Mommy signing off.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember behind every great kid is a mom who is sure she is messing it up.  Xo


Project Sibling


The Universe has conspired to make me sit down and write.  It is O’s nap time.  The hinges I bought off of Amazon for the bathroom cabinets don’t fit properly….so there will be no replacing them instead of writing.  I was going to start to paint the walls of the master bath, but I now have to clean and paint the baseboard heating covers and don’t have the right high heat paint to tackle the task.  I can’t  just leave my sleeping angel in the house while I run to Lowes….so I’ll have to go later. Perfect window of time to write.  The fact is that I am faced with a blog that is due tomorrow, but I’d rather eat potato chips.  Or bacon cheese flavored popcorn.  Any yummy tasty savory item from the Trader Joes snack aisle will do.  I want to mindlessly crunch away like a teenager.  I find it a satisfying way to avoid the task at hand.  Maybe one more handful before I decide whether to spill or zip it.

Alas, I am writing the piece.  After two bowls of crunchy goodness (boy, that’s an oxymoron), I am hitting the keys.  I am tentative about sharing this week’s tidbit.  Part of me feels like if I share it that I am somehow accountable if things don’t work out.  But a bigger part of me knows that there are women just like me who are contemplating  the same thing.  Ok, ok, enough with the lead in…I’m talking about having another baby.  Everyone has there own opinion on the subject.  A lot of women my age are done after having one.  Why push it, right? I see their point.

It takes me back to when I was 39 weeks pregnant with O and I had an exam with an older male doctor I had never been seen by before.  This practice in Florida was odd.  You could request a specific Doctor for appointments, but when you actually went into labor, you got whoever was on call.  So they urged you to familiarize yourself with as many physicians in the practice as possible.  And there were a lot.  Oye! I digress.  Anyway, on this particular day I opted to see Dr. Collins a.k.a. Crabby Pants.  I remember him telling me while discussing the labor,”Well, at your age, you don’t want to mess this up….I mean, it’s one and done for you.”  I remember feeling like I was slapped in the face.  I told another physician what he had said and she just shook her head.  Tossed it up to him being ready to retire.  But it does make you think.  At least he made me think.

Well, after a bit of a touch and go medical issue, my doctor up here in New England told me there is no reason we shouldn’t try.  I’m fit and I’ve got the blood pressure of a teenager, hence the teenager snack attacks.  By all snack accounts I should be over weight, but as my luck would have it, I’m as slim as I was when I was a vegetarian and really watched everything I ate.  (Completely unfair, I know).  So according to my lovely Dr., we have the all clear to jump to it.  I would prefer to say like rabbits…but apparently it’s more of an every other day thing.  You don’t want to exhaust the sperm.  Who knew? I assumed the more sex the better.  There will be no hormones or fertility drugs involved.  It’s Au Naturale for us.

So, here’s to trying.  Really trying.  And if it doesn’t happen, then Frieda, my friend and psychic, was right.  It won’t be meant to be.  And in the mean time, me and my young husband can have a lot of fun.  Either way it will all turn out the way it is supposed to.  I have been so blessed already, it seems greedy of me to want another.  If you asked me a year ago if I would want another, my answer would not have been  the same.  I have evolved into a really good mom. I’m so happy to be right where I am.  So happy to share raising or child with my husband.  It’s more happiness than I ever knew was possible.   So I am making a promise to myself right here and now, in front of all of you.  I will not be upset if we don’t get pregnant.  I won’t let it shade the abundant sunshine we live in.  I truly believe in things happening the way they are supposed to.  My entire life is a testament to just that.  So we will give it a go.  Here’s to Project Sibling! Lol!

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight.  I know what I’ll be doing.  And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up.  Xo


Recipe For A Baby At 43!

If this is your first time reading my blog, welcome! I thought I would take a week to reintroduce myself to some people who started to read my blog only recently. The archives only go back so far, so I wanted to give you my back story. I try to be very truthful, very real…and FUNNY. Hope you enjoy! Here is my very first post….throwin it back!


So many friends ask me straight out “So HOW did you get pregnant?” Followed by, “You give me hope!” LOL. Oh my gosh, it was embarrassingly easy, which I KNOW is NOT the case for many women over the age of 35, let alone over 40! This I know from having many friends, who like me, because of their career or other personal things, decided to wait to have children. Many found themselves unable to conceive. I suppose I had made peace with the fact that I might not have a child. My life, I thought, was so great already, that it was truly okay if I was unable to conceive. Even choosing to marry my husband, who was 11 years my junior, came with the possibility that we might remain childless. And he married me anyway. Good guy 🙂 But once we decided to actually “try” to get pregnant, it was crazy quick. Here is my recipe for a baby. Lots of sex….like everyday (seriously)…with a younger husband. The first month we tried, we were pregnant. Now, I was very healthy. I had no reproductive issues. I do not want anyone to think I am being flip about how easy it was. My heart breaks for anyone who can’t conceive who really wants to. Especially now, as I know what I would be missing. I always kept it in my head, that if was meant to be, then it would be. So I guess I was really relaxed about it happening or not happening.

“lots of sex….like everyday (seriously)”

The first three months were fine, except I had really bad “morning” sickness ALL DAY LONG. I carried oyster crackers around with me like it was my job. And then the four month mark came around and I was miraculously better. To say the next three months were the best of the pregnancy, is an understatement. Even with the severe carpal tunnel I had in my left hand, and the placenta previa, which was stressful (but wound up being fine), the second trimester was a vacation compared to the last one. I even did a show up until I was 5 months.

6 months prego

6 months prego


7 months

7 months

The last trimester was lots of fun. Just ask my husband. (insert sarcasm) Lots of ice cream and foot rubs. My hands started swelling and the carpal was now in my right hand as well. My skin on my legs got severely dry and I started having Braxton Hicks contractions every few nights. When I asked my doctor (who was almost 20 years my Junior with a valley girl accent…I’m rolling my eyes) about the carpal, she said, “Huh??? I never really heard of that.” I did want to slap her, but refrained. I mean I just had to go online to find the eons of women who had dealt with it in their pregnancies. The joy of being an advanced maternal aged mom….even the doctors are younger than you. Oye! Perhaps the thing that struck me most was how tired I was. Tired like I had never known. Now I don’t know for sure, but seeing how hard the delivery was on my body, I think it had everything to do with my age…oh pardon, my advanced maternal age. 🙂

8 months

8 months

The beginning of 9 months! With the handsome hubby!

The beginning of 9 months! With the handsome hubby!

You don’t realize it….at least I didn’t…but you hit the 9 month mark…and you still have 4 more weeks to go!! It’s like a slap in the face! You go along thinking…I’m almost done!! But you’re not…its a cruel mathematical joke. You go quickly from walking to waddling. The swelling increases (and mine wasn’t as bad as some women can get. ) And the GAS!!! Holy Moly! My husband was never supposed to hear those sounds coming from me. NEVER!! Well that ship has sailed. Did I tell you we met on the Love Boat? No really, we did. Princess Cruises. I was a guest entertainer singing and he was my audio engineer….I am digressing. Anything to avoid the GAS.

A day or two before delivery.

A day or two before delivery.

To make me really savor the experience, Oliver decided to wait an extra week to arrive. So I was officially overdue…like a turkey who’s timer has popped (see photo). Because of my advanced maternal age, the doctor in the practice who I really liked (obviously NOT the gyno-girl), scheduled us for an induction. See, when you are young, they like to make you wait for the baby to be good and ready, but when your parts are older, they don’t want to take any chances. So one week overdue was plenty. Whew!

So…..The Baby Equation for us was this…..

43 year old female + 32 year old male + LOTS of sex (literally everyday)!!!! = Beautiful Baby Boy!







Rainbows And Reality


I did not set out to write a controversial blog.  In fact, if more people thought like me, it wouldn’t be. 🙂  I am still trying to figure out why everyone doesn’t share all my thoughts and opinions. Lol.  But, seriously, folks…..this week marked a historical time in our country’s evolution. Marriage equality for everyone!  The straights, the gays, the others…everyone, free to marry their one true love.  Pretty awesome, I think.  Most of my circle of friends are progressive people.  Lots of artists, educators and all around wonderful people.  A majority of my friends are gay.  Some of my nearest and dearest.  For the most part, the internet was a rainbow of colors celebrating this step forward for equality.  Because my circle of friends are mostly like thinkers, my Facebook feed was pretty positive stuff.   On the other hand, the thing about social media is that you don’t just get the stuff you want to see…you get a lot of the stuff you wished you hadn’t.  That is what happened this week.

A friend of mine, who I knew was a church going gal, posted some pretty negative stuff regarding same sex marriage.  I’m saddened by this, because I don’t know that I can be friends with her after reading her opinions.  Before social media let you post your opinions for the world to see, I didn’t know she had such disdainful feelings towards some of my dearest friends, dare I say family.  How can I remain friends with her when I know now how she feels about the people that I love?

She went as far as to say that God “detests” homosexuality.  Hmm.  That’s pretty strong.  Firstly, how does she know?  I mean a vast majority of us speak to God…but has he ever actually spoken to her saying,” I detest the Gays!”  I’m confused by this righteousness coming from a twice married woman.   For the life of me, I just don’t see why anyone wants to deny another person equality?  It seems so un-Christian.  It’s like being on a diet and being outraged that the person next to you is eating a hamburger.  It’s irrational. At least in my opinion.

What I know for sure is that I want my child to grow up in a world where no matter what his sexual orientation is, he will be treated fairly.  No matter what the color of his skin is, he will be treated without prejudice.   If he decides he feels more comfortable in women’s clothes or he wants to be called Olivia, I want society to treat him with dignity and respect.  I know, I know….life isn’t fair.  But the laws that govern our land should be.  At the very least.

I keep discovering things about myself as I continue on this journey of being a mother, especially at my advanced maternal age.  One, is that I am stronger than I ever knew I was.  Another is, I have no tolerance for people’s ridiculous hate.  Life is just too too short.  And I don’t have time to have my nose in anyone else’s garden if I want to tend to my own precious one.  Most importantly, my priority is my beautiful family.  If anyone threatened my son’s right to equality, I would no doubt get all Mama Bear on them.  It is with that same ferocity I feel I must sever this friendship. I don’t say this lightly. I mean her no malice and I wish her well in all that is to come for her and her family.  Yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion.  But you don’t get to be my friend when your moral compass is so drastically opposing to what I believe in my heart to be right.  Perhaps it is a failing in my character that I can’t overlook such things.  I don’t know.  What is clear to me is that when there is intolerance and hate, everyone loses.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight! And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is sure she is messing it up. 🙂


To Kiss Or Not To Kiss


This week I was floating around the Facebook Mommy groups I belong to looking for topics Moms are sharing and talking about.  There was a share of a June 9, 2015 article from everydayfamily.com.  It was entitled, At What Age Should You Stop Kissing Your Kids On The Lips?  Before I read it, I thought to myself, this is going to be one of those articles that grabs your attention by the ridiculous question title and then goes on to dispel the whole issue. Boy, was I wrong.

This “article” cites two “experts.” The associate clinical professor of psychology from UCLA says the time to stop is NOW, as a kiss on the lips could be confusing to a child. At the very most, stop at age 5! What? And the other, a Proactive Parenting Coach, says the time to stop kissing on the lips is when either party feels uncomfortable.  Again….huh? I’m so disturbed by this parenting advice.  What the hell is wrong with people.  Talk about psychology messing people up! Not to mention, how do people get published writing this kind of ridiculous stuff?  How can someone take a pure form of affection between a parent and child and make it into something dirty? I just don’t get it.

Now to be fair, the article on everydayfamily.com was more of a regurgitation of  quotes from the “experts,” with a pinch of the writers own vague opinion, which seemed to be either here nor there.  It concluded with a “What do you think?” ending.  So I looked into the online bio of the writer, a Mr. Jace Whatcott.  The bio didn’t say whether Mr. Whatcott had children himself, although there was a photo of (I am assuming) him holding a child.  But, I am inclined to think he actually may not have a child himself, as his writing didn’t have a  parental tone.  And his list of hobbies (crossword puzzles, reading, and naps!) made me think he has WAY to much time on his hands to be a parent.  At least, a parent who parents. BAM!  Yeah, I know, harsh.

Because I live under a very large Mommy rock, I didn’t know there was a huge to-do this past winter about the New England Patriots Coach, Bill Belichick, giving his 30 year old daughter a congratulatory kiss on the lips at the Super Bowl.  Why would anyone feel that was inappropriate?  Now, if there was tongue involved, I could see someone having issue.  But a closed mouth kiss on the lips?  I truly believe it says more about the critic than the kiss.  Is there such a heightened eye on sexual abuse that we can’t discern between a non sexual intuitive act of affection and abuse?

I believe affection is oh so important to the development of a child into a healthy adult.  And, of course, there is data to support that theory.  Research published in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health found that babies with very affectionate moms grew up to be “more resilient, less anxious adults.” At about the age of 34, the same individuals showered with love and kisses as babies in the study showed the lowest levels of distress as adults.

But beyond all the data you can find to support either school of thought, what about common sense?  What about healthy instinctual affection between a parent and child, at any age?  If I see a grown man or woman kissing either their father or mother on the lips or cheek or forehead or hand….I think it shows a healthy relationship with intimacy and affection.  Kudos to the parent who taught their child to not be afraid of affection.

We are such an all or nothing society.  Instead of teaching a child the shades and nuances of affection and the meanings of affection in different relationships, we would rather avoid the conversation all together and just say NO KISSING ON THE LIPS AFTER 5 YEARS OLD.  Well, not this Mommy.  Or Daddy, for that matter.  My husband seems to have no problem showering our little O with kisses and hugs.  I can’t imagine him having a problem with it even when O gets older.  I see him kiss his mother on the lips and I think it’s lovely.  To think anything weird about it would be…well, weird.  I’m not worried about O being confused by our affection towards him.  What any child might find confusing is the inappropriate subtext people attach to such an instinctual natural act.  Children pick up on everything.  Even our latent fears.


The Best Part of My Day


As a full time Stay At Home Mom, my days are on a crazy schedule.  Add to it the fact that we are moving house, and it is truly chaotic.  I have all I can do to stay up till 9pm these days.  O goes down at 8pm and, I swear, the bed starts calling my name….”Mary…..Sleeeeep…Sleeeep!”  If I decide to live on the edge and stay up till 9:30 or (Oh My God! ) 10 o’clock,  I pay for it dearly with a tired crabby attitude the next day.  You would think that the best part of my day would be hitting the pillow. But I have to tell you, although it is always welcome, it is not the BEST part of my day.

The BEST part of my day is when I give O his bottle. My husband has dibs on the bedtime feeding for now, so I do either crazy early in the morning when I wake out of my coveted slumber….or before his nap time.    I sit in the rocker in his room and he lays across my lap.  I stroke his hair.  Sometimes his little hand holds my finger.  We look deep into each other’s eyes.  He lets me know he loves me.  And I let him know his love is safe with me and whole heartedly requited.    It is fifteen minutes that feel as if time stands still.  Where my little baby boy communes with me.  Where we connect on a level so instinctual, yet so profound, it knocks my socks off.  I don’t care if I get woken up out of a sound sleep.  I don’t care if I have a “to do” list that is fifty feet long.  I have never known such pure uncomplicated love. And it’s in those 15 minutes (or so) that I savor every part of this incredible gift.

The great thing about this time for me, is that I can’t do anything else while I’m feeding him.  Well, I guess I could.  I could check my email.  I could text on my phone.  I could surf Pinterest.  I could watch TV.  But WHY would I ever do that and MISS this amazing time??? I’d have to be coo coo for cocoa puffs to gip myself out of this slice of heaven.  I suppose I CHOOSE to do nothing else whist feeding him.  I just can’t imagine any other way.  How would I sing him his favorite songs? How would I catch the look in his eyes that lets me know I’m his world (right now)? Nope, I’m gonna take in all this bliss before it’s gone.  And let me tell you, it will be gone and before I know it.  He is already getting less bottles, which means less sweet time for him and I.  I can already see my husband and I duking it out over who gets to give O his bedtime bottle, when that is the last bottle feeding remaining.  I’m not sure how that’s gonna go.  We will have some major negotiations for sure!

Its funny, I worried so much about not being able to breastfeed my little O.  I beat myself up over it and obsessed that I wasn’t going to bond the same way because we wouldn’t have that special closeness.  Well, one year into this motherhood thing and I’m a lot wiser for wear.  I can tell you with all certainty, my little O couldn’t be any more attached to me.  Our bond is true and unbreakable.  The time and attention I have given him and the love he has come to know and rely on,  is the basis for that bond.  I don’t believe it has anything to do with a nipple.  Oh, I’m sure there are thousands of women who would disagree.  Trust me, if I had been able to breastfeed successfully, I’d still be doing it.  Nutrition wise,  I believe it to be the best thing for a baby.  But I don’t believe my not being able to nurse my son hindered our bond in any way.  I wish I would have known that last year.  I would have been a lot easier on myself.

These moments…..these “best parts of the day” are the joys we find in the mundane.  They are the example of power in simplicity.  They are proof that something so small, and so routine can bring such profound happiness.  What’s the best part of your day? I would wager to say it’s something simple.  Something simply wonderful.




Crash Test Mommy


I don’t know how it happens.  It’s like I go from 0 to 60 in a matter of moments.  Everything is going fine, I’m handling the day with O.  I should say, enjoying the day with O.  Ok, I didn’t sleep great the past couple of nights, but I’m tough.  Then I navigate family stuff  i.e. dysfunction,  over the phone while I’m trying to get some exercise by taking a walk.  Then, I make baby food while I figure out what we will have for dinner.  Then I field emails and calls to make our crazy (at the moment) life actually function. Add laundry, keeping our house show ready for prospective buyers,  throw in a trip to the post office,  a stop at the grocery store and a diaper run for fun.  Then O decides not to take a nap, but rather stand in his crib crying until Mommy comes in to save him.  And every whine and whimper sends my head spinning further and further into a place I don’t know how to return from sometimes.

By the time my husband gets home,  I’m feeding the overtired wonder boy in his high chair, while he wears some of his meal, as he has now taken to swatting the spoon away and then crying because there is no food in his mouth.  Of course, I have a large glass of wine beside me.    I swear, O will be a toddler able to open a bottle of wine like a professional sommelier and make a killer dirty martini to rival Dean Martin.  He’s seen it done enough.  I look like I’ve been through a prison camp.  A camp where they dress you in yoga pants and make you wear your hair in a ponytail everyday.  My husband asks me if I’m ok? He is truly concerned.  He takes over feeding our child.  And all I feel is guilt.  Like I have somehow lost the battle of the day.

I then don’t know how to come back? Has that ever happened to any of you? It’s like I don’t know how to wipe the day away  and start over.  The guilt of getting frustrated or of wasting the gift of the day stays with me.  I can’t imagine how my husband could love me.  I’m so so far away from what he signed  up for.  And it seems I can’t handle even the simplest task.  I can’t even keep it together as I write this.  Thankfully, I know this too shall pass and I will recover and become “me” again.    But in the midst of the whirlwind I seem unrecognizable, even to myself.

When I was dealing with postpartum  baby blues, I’d often have the “drive away”  fantasy.  I didn’t  know how many women had this fantasy until I started reading other women’s blogs.  I’d see myself getting into my Kia and just driving away.  To nowhere.  Just to breathe.  Just to feel the wind on my face.  I didn’t know how far I’d go… I always planned on coming back, but in my mind it was the perfect escape.  Now my escape fantasy involves a bath and a nice hotel room.  I fantasize about sleep like it is some elusive unattainable thing.  When I start fantasizing more frequently, I know I am approaching my breaking point.  I am getting close to crashing into the wall.

I am not a super woman.  I am just a woman.  I’m trying.  Everyday I try.  That counts, right? My number one concern is that I do right by O.  That I give him everything I can, everyday.  That I teach him what I know and more, to make him a decent kind loving person.  But inevitably, there are days when you are at the end of your rope, and you wind up teaching him something negative.  A curse word you said out of frustration (it only has to happen once) …or how to make a killer dirty martini.  How can you be the perfect mom at every moment?? If you have the answer, let me know.  Until then, I’ll be putting one foot in front of the other.  Occasionally, I’ll take a step backwards…because I’m only human.