40 Blissful Minutes


I am the first one to say I don’t know how to relax.  I am always “doing” something.  Shamefully, I admit, I sometimes tackle not just two, but three or four projects at a time.  Like at the same time.  Not the best strategy always, but I usually have a lot of pots on the stove, so to speak.  Yesterday was no exception.

It was around 2:15pm. Smack in the middle of O’s nap time.  I was finishing up a project I was working on for Christmas and starting to make a new Chicken Bratwurst recipe with a warm kartoffelsalat for the side.  The contractor who is renovating our bathrooms shows up to do a faucet install.  I figured O would most likely sleep through any noise, as he should have been deeply down by this point in time.  Boy, was I wrong.  One creek up the staircase and O was UP with all capitals and a very loud whine. Our very observant contractor points out, “Hey, the baby’s crying.”  Really? Huh….Gee, I didn’t hear the ear piercing cry….thanks for letting me know.  I didn’t say that….what I said was, “yeah.”

I went into O’s room.  He had only slept for an hour.  There  was no way he was ready to actually get up. I kept the light off and picked him up out of his crib and went to the rocker.  The whole weight of his body draped over my shoulder.  I sat down and started to gently rock and sing to him.  What happened next was such a great gift and it truly brought joyful tears to my eyes.  O fell asleep in my arms.  Now you might think, big deal.  But my O hasn’t slept in my arms for any real length of time since he was an infant.  This was 40 minutes of absolute angelic bliss.  A couple times he stirred only to look up at me with the purest love in his eyes only to then fall back asleep. It was heaven on earth.

I wish that 40 minutes could have gone on and on.  I would have left every project and pot to boil over.  Nothing mattered to me in that moment, but THAT moment.  What a lesson in simply being there.  It is a lesson I needed refreshing in, especially lately.  I let myself become crazed with tasks again.  I feel foolish and well, exhausted.  Time to take it easy again.  Oh my little O is the best teacher!

The only hard thing to swallow about my blissful 40 minutes was that when those times were a regular occurrence, when O was a newborn, I feel like I didn’t enjoy them.  At least not the way I would have had I not had the post partum blues.   It made me sad to think I missed a lot of that time.  I just couldn’t get my head on straight then.  I won’t beat myself up about it anymore.  It is what it is. And I thank God I got through it.   But I can’t pretend I didn’t miss some really special moments.  I guess I should be grateful that I got to fully savor something so wonderful now.  And I am……so grateful.

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



Halloween 1 Mommy 0


Ok.  So we are safely into October.  There is a real chill in the air and the leaves are starting to appropriately turn color.  The 31st is literally around the corner and I am completely stumped as what to create for O’s costume.  Mind you, we don’t live around other homes, so I can’t imagine we will be getting trick or treaters.  And I suppose we could take O to a neighborhood around us, but it would really be an exercise in parents getting candy for themselves.  O doesn’t “get” Halloween yet, nor does he eat candy.  The idea of trapsing through the chilly evening, going up to the front doors of strange homes with him, saying “trick or treat!” for him, as he doesn’t talk yet, strikes me as odd.  It would be entirely for us.  So then why do it? And more specifically, why fret over a costume for him?

In my childhood household, Halloween was always a big holiday.  My mother was amazingly creative and untiring.  Making handmade costumes for all four of her children. My mom would go ALL OUT! We had a costume contest parade in our town and every year someone in our family would win, if not everyone! There were no store bought costumes for us. I remember choosing what we would like to be long in advance.  I remember my Mother sewing til the wee hours of the night getting everything just right.  One year I was a southern belle right out of Gone With The Wind with a full on hoop skirt dress!  I recall one of my brothers being a sheik one year and he actually pulled a huge stuffed camel after himself.  My Mother’s skill and creativity were truly amazing.

Somewhere the Halloween gene passed over me.  Even though I was lucky enough to wear the awesome costumes my mom made me, I’ve never been a huge fan of Halloween.  I mean, it’s not like it’s Christmas for G sake! I know,  there are people who go all out! They decorate their homes , work on costumes for months and go to local haunted houses.  Ugh.  Not this chick.  But now with O, do I have to get “into” it? Ok, maybe not THIS year, but certainly in the years to come?  The thing is, I already know I’m going to be horrible at it.  I will want him to pick the easy costume.  Something that will take the least amount of effort from me.  It’s awful! Even so, being raised on homemade costumes makes it very hard to take the easy road.

I know I could just go to the Halloween superstore and get something off the rack, but it seems so cheesy to me.  I remember as a kid feeling sorry for the kids who wore the store bought costumes.  How could I possibly put O in one?  And yet, how will I fair in making his dream of being a two headed dragon come true? I’ll be like, “Why don’t you be a hobo?”

It really is odd, because I am really a holiday person.  Hell, I shop for Christmas all year long.  I can’t wait to decorate right after Thanksgiving and I start listening to Christmas music in October (ooh, it’s coming up!) …don’t judge me.    It’s just the scary horror stuff just doesn’t do it for me.  The only thing I really like about Halloween is the abundance of candy, preferably Twix bars and anything Reese’s.  I suppose when O is actually is old enough to get excited about it and actually participate, my feelings may change.  I hope so.  I don’t want to be the lame Mom who couldn’t care less.  But this year, before he really knows….if I’m brutally honest, I could not care less and I kind of want to take the easy road.    I would love suggestions, cause I’m fresh out of ideas. Even Pinterest couldn’t help me.  Everything I saw on there looked too hard to do.  See, I’m pathetic.  Big Halloween Mommy fail.  Pass the candy bowl.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty 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!







Thoughts on the Bottle


I’ve been thinking a bit about the bottle lately.  It seems like ever since O turned a year old, the pressure to get him off the bottle comes from all directions.  Every parenting article I read tells me it’s time to give it up. Every well meaning relative, every Tom, Dick and Harry (every Tom, Harry or Dick) thinks once a child turns one we should take the bottle out of his hands.  If I was nursing, would there be pressure to get my child off the boob at a year old? I’m interested to know.

Why is it that my baby went from infant to toddler in the span of a day? I mean, I know he’s not an infant anymore, but he hardly qualifies as a little boy yet.  He’s still a baby for goodness sake.  That bottle is a comfort for him before bedtime…and (here it goes) I still give him one early in he morning.  That one is more for me, because O will sleep another two hours if he has a bottle.  That’s time for me to shower, enjoy my coffee, and DO things.  It’s GOLD! And really, I have to change his diaper after he sleeps through the night anyway.  ( God knows, there is no room in it for his morning poop…it MUST be changed!)…so what’s the problem with a bottle and a cuddle?  Is there something wrong with that?

He drinks pretty well with his sippy cup during the day…but only water.  He won’t do “milk” in it at all.  So the only milk he gets is before bed and in the early morning.  So it’s not like I’m giving him too much.  And why is my tone so defensive? Why is it SO important to get my son off the bottle so quickly? Why does society want my baby to grow up so fast? It seems to me that O lets me know when he is ready for things.  I introduce things and in time he takes to them.  I don’t push foods on him, but just keep introducing and re-introducing them.  Sometimes the 7th time is the charm! I am digressing.

The point is, my boy has a lifetime to drink out of cups.  I really don’t believe it is detrimental to him to have a bottle for another year.  Maybe more. I don’t know.  What I do know, is that I am in NO rush to have him do anything un-baby like.  That time will be here before I know it.  I don’t mind keeping him little for as long as I can.  I’m sure someone out there thinks I am holding my child back or being a complete hover mommy.  But the fact is, at least in O’s case, he eventually hits every milestone with joy and gusto….when he’s good and ready.  I’ve learned now, not to stress over it.  He’s gonna do everything he’s “supposed” to in his own time.  Why push?

Well, friends, that’s my two cents for this week 🙂 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.


Moving Mommy


I am officially certifiable.  My husband and I are moving house, again.  Good Lord, give me strength.  It’s bad enough that we moved from Florida to New England when O was only 3 months old.  I truly don’t know how we did it.  I think I must have been on auto pilot.  Like some sort of new mommy zombie.  It’s the only way I could have gotten through it.  We kept our Florida house furnished, so we didn’t pack up every last morsel. It was tough enough packing up all our personal things with a newborn infant.  But this move will require us to move EVERYTHING…all with a 12 month old, who is crawling and cruising like a demon and getting into anything and everything that isn’t safety sealed shut.  Like I said, Good Lord, give me strength!

Of course, it will most likely NOT be an easy, care free transition.  You see, we haven’t found the house we want to move into yet.  (Nervous smile).  So we could very well be packing this home up into a storage facility until the right house comes along.  Eek.  Live out of a suitcase much? Good thing I have lots of experience with that from touring.  My biggest concern, however,  is not how I will handle it, but how O will adapt.  When he was 3 months old he was completely adaptable.  I knew he would have no recollection of it.  The several transitions he made were easy peesey.  But will it be that way this time? I mean, he won’t remember it, but will it affect him adversely?

If things don’t go swimmingly, as they most never do with real estate…then we may be moving in with my Mother-in-law until we secure and close on a new residence.  Thank goodness I adore her! I can only hope she will still love me after this possible cohabitation. To say we are grateful for her is a great understatement.  A huge positive will be O getting to spend more time with her.  You know how I feel about grandparents! I’m a big advocate for Grammy time.  See, I’m trying to focus on the positive side if things.

I’m certainly not dreading any part of this journey.   I guess it’s just that I just want to be settled.  Once and for all.  I went from leaving my “in and out of town” career to be settled for what turned out to be  a hot second…to move up to New England to stay with my MIL until our house was available, to be in our house for another hot second, to now be packing it up for some unknown abode.  I feel like I’ve  been on the move since forever.  It’s just time to slow down and get settled. Time to nest.   My soul feels it.  Hell, my bones feel it.  I not only want to plant roots in the home that O will grow up in…I want to plant a garden and be around to watch it grow.  I want to plant perennials and see them pop up next spring and the next 10 springs to come.  It’s something THAT simple.  I’m ready for simple.

It’s not like this move is news to me. It’s all part of our plan.  We actually want to move.  But the reality of it is just starting to set in for this Mommy, and it’s a tad daunting.  So if any of you Moms have any advice to make the whole undertaking easier…fire away! I am in need of some serious input.  I figure I’ll need a secure place for O to play.  So far, O doesn’t seem to mind being in his pack and play.  He actually seems to like it.  If I put a few toys/activities in there, he is usually quite content to amuse himself while I get dinner ready or go to use the bathroom.  But packing up a house? Eek! That’s a little more time consuming. And a pack and play isn’t a very big space for him to move around in.   I guess I will  rely on his nap times? And after his bedtime? Woof! This is gonna be one crabby tired Mama.  I guess it will all just happen, as everything does.  One day at a time.  One box at a time.  One foot in front of the other….all while keeping a routine that O can count on.  Did I say “Give me strength?”  Oh, that was the third time? Well, third time’s a charm.  Wish me luck, Ladies.

Until next time, keep on keepin on.  And remember, behind every great kid, is a mom who is sure she is messing it up! 🙂 Like me! Like 20-30 times a day! 🙂