It’s The Best

Like with anything in life, there are positives and negatives. This week I want to focus on the positive. The topic: Having children over 40 and why it is the best (in my opinion). Don’t worry, I’ll also share with you why it is a drag (in my opinion)….just not this week. This week it’s all about how incredible it is to have a child when you are in your 40’s!

Let’s face it, if you have had a child at 35 or over, you’ve most likely heard all the terrifying warnings and reasons not to. My first prenatal visit at age 43 was colored with all sorts of possible doom and negative what ifs. I chose to filter out the gloom. While I was educated about the risks, I kept the information out of my mind and body. One of the best things about having a baby in your 40’s (in my opinion) is that you can. So many women struggle with conception. If you can get pregnant naturally (or with help) over 40, well, that’s something to celebrate!

All new mothers hear the polite advice from well wishers, time and time again. My son is 2 and I still get it. “Enjoy every minute! It goes so fast!” Well, the main reason I think having a baby in your 40’s is the best (in my opinion), is that you actually do enjoy every minute. Even when it’s hard, there is a baseline of joy that just can’t be beat. There is a patience I possess that, for me, has come with age. I’m certainly not saying that women having children in their 20’s and 30’s don’t enjoy their children. I can only speak from my experience as a 20 and 30 something. In my 20’s and 30’s, my life was all about me. The pace of my life was all about me. The choices I made were basically all about me. And I wanted it that way. I lived my life fully and with purposed abandon. I travelled the world, fell in and out of love and enjoyed freedom from most responsibility. It was how it should be for someone at that stage of their life (in my opinion). Conversely, with the birth of my son came profound responsibility. And at the age of 44, I welcomed it wholeheartedly. Someone younger might think my life now is a bore. The Veuve doesn’t flow as freely (or at all, come to think of it) and my bedtime is often before the curtain used to go up. The things I possessed and the adoration I sought are not barometers for bliss. My god! I thought a new pair of Gucci shoes equaled happiness. Silly girl. All those things are well and good, but they are not the stuff of life.

I get to do this parenting thing with a full awareness that it goes far too fast. I don’t wish time away like I used to. I get to be mature enough to share with my baby, my patience and my understanding of what true happiness really is. I get to not only enjoy his process, but have the emotional maturity to understand that he is his own person, and that while he is our whole world now, we will not always be his. I am old enough to know he will have to fail to succeed. I understand there will come a time to let go.

Anyone who has hit the 40+ mark understands what I am saying. I’m not saying you don’t have moments of doubt anymore or that you don’t feel like you are screwing up a lot of the time. That is the nature of parenting in a nutshell. But there is a level of surety and confidence that I bring to my parenting, to my life, that I did not possess in my 20’s or 30’s. It makes me a better mom. And THAT is the best thing about having a child over 40 (in my opinion).

Until next time, 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

Bon Appetit Baby

That’s it. I’ve had it. It is time to reign in my picky eater and broaden his horizons. I will expand my child’s palate or die trying. Ok, that is a bit dramatic. But I mean, come on! I refuse to accept that I must only give him pasta, PB&J, or yogurt, as these are the foods he eats willingly. In my short sightedness to get him to eat, I started giving him only things that he liked. Day after day….and now it has turned into my toddler refusing to even try anything that looks different. It is ridiculous. It is my own fault. And it is time to end this craziness.

I’m not supposing this will be easy. It is learned behavior on his part, that I have indulged. He does seem to have an issue with textures, but instead of helping him through that, I let him avoid it. I could kick myself. (Hindsight, right?). Now that he is well over the two year mark and in the throws of being a toddler, he can absolutely eat anything and in my opinion, should. My husband and I are adventurous eaters. We enjoy different foods, spices, wines and whatnot. It is unacceptable to me that I will raise a child to be a pedestrian eater. It just won’t jive with our rhythm at home. He will need to learn to eat what we eat, and it starts now. Did I say I know this is going to be difficult?

When O was a baby, the doctor, and pretty much everyone, said, “He will know when he isn’t hungry. He’ll stop himself. Babies know when they are full.” Well that may be true, but I’m not convinced a toddler knows. My son would eat as many graham bunnies as I gave him. He would also prefer them for dinner, if I’d allow it. His new tactic when he doesn’t want to try something is to say “All done.” So I’ve now started to say, “OK, all done.” I’ve stopped offering anything else. Down he goes from the table. Dinner is over. No second chances. He will go to sleep with an empty stomach. My hope is that he won’t let himself go too hungry. Right? Harsh, I know. But I refuse to be a slave to a finicky child.

Last night, we had roasted summer vegetables and turkey kielbasa over brown rice. It was actually very nice. O only ate some of the rice. I wanted him to at least taste the meat and vegetables. Mind you, there were sweet potatoes and carrots in the veggie mix, which he likes, but because they were in chunks he would not even try them. Really? It’s maddening. So, once the rice was picked over, he asked for apple sauce, which was denied. He followed up with a wail and an “All done!” I make no fuss over it. I simply say “OK, all done.” I take him out of his chair and send him on his way…hungry. Eventually, the stubbornness will yield to hunger, right? Are you thinking that I am a horrible mother now?

In France, children O’s age, sit down for a three course meal, daily. They eat all sorts of fish, fruits, vegetables and cheeses. When I say vegetables I don’t mean brocolli with cheese sauce, either. There are no special dinosaur chicken nuggets sold in grocery stores. And there aren’t special kid menus in every restaurant featuring the same items: pizza, mac and cheese, and a hotdog. They are taught from a very young age how to eat and how to appreciate food. International data collated by the International Association for the Study of Obesity show that 15% of children are overweight in France compared to a whopping 30% in the U.S. So who is doing it right?

I believe that food is part of our education as people of a civilized society. To appreciate different tastes and textures is one of life’s pleasures. Sharing a meal with family and friends, is to be part of something. It is a learned sense of community and belonging. Eating is something we need to do for the rest of our lives. Perhaps it should be something we are educated about and learn to do well. Anyway, that’s this mama’s two cents. I’ll let you know how my struggle goes. Did I mention I don’t anticipate it is going to be easy?

Until next time, while I’ll be rocking in a corner back and forth, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Ah, my life story! Bon Appetit!

A New Day

I have been grappling this week with what to write about. It is a familiar struggle, but sometimes it proves tougher than other times. I’m usually blocked because I have something on my mind that I feel perhaps I shouldn’t write about. Or maybe I don’t think anyone else would find it interesting. But censoring myself has never been a productive strategy. So here goes.

I have been very affected by the politics in our country lately. It feels as if the country is divided in a way that I have never seen in my life time. And it scares me. The hate filled, fear mongering rhetoric of a certain tiny hand candidate is appalling, divisive, and small minded. In my opinion, it has no place in the leadership of our country. The parties hateful sentiments do not represent my feelings. Not at all. But rather than write about The Ego with the bad comb-over, who already gets far far too much press, I want to talk about what inspires me. This past week, something amazing happened that moved me greatly, as a woman, a mother and a citizen of the world.

I know I am pretty sappy and have a tendency to get emotional over a Hallmark commercial, but I have to tell you that I was genuinely moved by the remarkable speech from our country’s First Lady, Michelle Obama at the DNC in Philadelphia. I know as a liberal it is assumed that I would be a fan of the First Lady, so I will skip the list of admirable traits I believe she embodies. (There are many). But what really got me was when she said how her daughters, and all our sons and daughters, could now take for granted that a woman could become President of the United States. That struck a chord in me. I realized, quite seriously, that history is being made before our very eyes.

This past weekend I was lucky enough to see Hamilton on Broadway. Beyond it being an incredible piece of theatre, I couldn’t help be struck by the poetic justice of watching an incredibly talented, racially diverse cast, portray our founding fathers. I suppose this must really ruffle the feathers of the David Dukes of the world. It’s funny, but the color of any actors skin didn’t really dawn on me until after the show. It made perfect sense that George Washington should be played by a handsome strapping black man. I was reminded that for all intents and purposes, we are all really immigrants. To say you are not is just inaccurate. I was reminded of the limitations women had to endure regardless of their intellect. In the words of the character Angelica Schuyler, “We hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal, and when I meet Thomas Jefferson, I’m gonna compel him to include women in the sequel. Work!” The point is, we have come so so far. Why would we ever go backwards? It defies logic. At least to this mommy it does.

This morning I was watching the highlights of the democratic convention. I watched, and re-watched, a woman of 102 years of age, who was born before women could vote, officially report Arizona delegates for Hillary Rodham Clinton for President of the United States. It doesn’t matter what you think of Secretary Clinton. You can love her. You can hate her. But the shattering of that glass ceiling is undeniable and has changed us forever. I suppose if you are against her, you might deny its significance. But in my opinion, you’d be denying reality. I will not get into a debate with anyone regarding Hilz. I won’t change your mind and you won’t change mine. But this is my blog and #ImWithHer, if you hadn’t noticed.

The future of our society, that will be our children’s and their children’s society, is changing. My son will not know of a time when a woman could be considered less important or less capable…and that’s huge. It is so much bigger than Bozo the Clown’s ego. I have a friend who has a daughter who is O’s age. She is especially energized about this new day and all it will mean for her daughter. But I truly think it is something for parents of girls and boys to celebrate. There is hope this week. There is a beacon of light shining through. And as things seem to be going these days, I’m gonna hang onto it.

Until next time, 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. Work!

P.S. I ordered my Hilary For President shirts for Me and O. Watch out world! Photos to follow.

Slow Down, Mommy

Do you ever feel like things are just moving too fast? Like you just can’t keep up the pace? Does your “To Do” list overwhelm you? We all have legitimate things that keep our bodies and minds on the go. I have been in that mode lately. Add to it the crazy things happening in our world lately and it’s enough to make anyone go into hiding. I handle it, until I just can’t anymore. And that’s what has happened.

In a rare moment of quiet (at yoga class, which has been a challenge to get to lately) I realized the frantic pace I have been maintaining. It took the merry-go-round stopping for me to really understand how severe my situation gets at times. I set my intention for the class. I decided to commit to slowing down. I focused on my breath. Simple. Slow. By the end of the class my teacher reminded us of the intention we set for ourselves at the beginning of the hour. She urged us to try to carry that with us into the world for as long as we could. So that is what I decided to do. I am slowing down. This isn’t some silly lark juice fast here, but rather a serious necessity. If I don’t slow down I will hit a wall. And that can’t be good for me or my family.

This is not an easy thing for me to do. My usual mode has me spinning several plates at a time while I plan my next 20 projects. When I get over done….you can just imagine the hyper speed I am functioning at. Or failing to function at, which is what brings about a crash. So, anyway, the strategy is small simple steps for me. Breathing. Taking my time. Doing one thing at a time (very challenging for this type A mommy). Enjoying the moment (especially with O and my husband). And remembering that there are things that I like to partake in, not because they have to get done, but because I enjoy doing them.

So I am making jam. Raspberry jam from our garden. You might laugh and think how ridiculous. Go ahead. I’ve made several pies already, but the jam is my favorite. It is something to savor into the autumn and winter. It is a gift to give neighbors and friends. And for me, this summer, it signifies my struggle to slow down. I realized the other day that summer is half over and I don’t feel like it even started yet. What kind of deluded fog have I been in? To say my husband and I have a lot our plates is an understatement. But it is all the more reason to slow down when we are faced with challenges. It’s things like working in the garden. Or listening to the rain hit the skylight. It’s sitting on the kitchen floor reading to O in the middle of making dinner. It’s the smell of our babies hair and the warmth of his breath when he cuddles next to us. It’s looking into my Love’s eyes after a long day and really seeing him. It’s letting him know without words that he is loved and safe in our relationship. All these things require slowing down. They take time and connection. Without these moments of meaning, our lives are just moments that are unacknowledged. A kind of going through the motions.

It’s funny…the older I get the clearer it becomes to me. The moments in my life that speak out to me as defining and full of passion and truth, are the simplest ones. I have a vivid simple memory from years ago that I look at now and know it was a defining moment. It was years before my husband and I got married. We were visiting as friends, and I remember him driving me in his jeep. We were listening to music, just driving to nowhere, and he put his hand in mine. I remember looking down and seeing our hands together and knowing that it felt so right. I knew then, it was right. So much in that simple quiet moment. Life is funny like that.

So….slow it is. For as long as I can do it. Who knows, maybe it will become habit for me. A way of life, even? And if I fall off the wagon, well then I’ll just have to get back up on the slow ride. Cause it’s not just me anymore. I have a husband and child who need me there. Fully present. Fully focused. And happy. Oh yes, happy. Covered in raspberry jam happy.

Until next time, I’ll be moving at a snail’s pace. Keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Thank you so much for reading. Xo

Love Letter

I imagine, like most children, my son will someday ask me what he was like when he was a baby. Kids love hearing stories about themselves. I think these little anecdotes give them a sense of assurance and comfort. Although I have a blog full of posts and a website designed to share the journey of mothering my little O, most posts are about me and whatever trial or tribulation I am navigating any given week. So this post is different. I want O to be able to read this in years to come and know exactly what he was like on a particular day he shared with his Mommy. This post is a love letter to my O.

Dear O,

Days at the beach with you are just the best. The packing up of snacks, towels, buckets and shovels among countless other things are totally worth it. The hike up the dune, with you in my arms, to get to our little spot of heaven can be a workout. But again, totally worth it! The word “beach” comes from your perfect mouth. I put you down and you immediately run your fingers through the sand, taking it all in as quickly as you know how. I fill up a bucket with water as you plop yourself down and begin to dig. You are so happy.

We have your cousins with us today. You watch Will and Chris with idolization. Their young teenage selves splashing about in the ocean. You take my hand and say “ocean.” You want to be where they are. We wade in the slight surf and you squeal with delight as the water tickles your legs. You are laughing. Smiling. 1…2….3!!! We jump the waves with the help of Uncle Paul. He is taken with you, too. Who wouldn’t be? You are wonderful.

Our exodus from the beach must be highly planned. Everything must be pretty much packed up and ready to go prior to getting you rinsed off in the ocean. Once the sand is semi off of you, there is no putting you down. As we leave the beach you call out, “Bye Ocean!” “Bye Bye Sandbox!” I smile, as I climb over the dune because your sweetness is noted. I make the decision then to stop for ice cream at Handy Hill. Ice cream is your favorite and a treat is in order. You’ve been so good.

You are only in a diaper and your swim shirt. No shoes. Your sun hat still atop your head of long curls. I take you out of the car and you know where we are. You are excited. I order peanut butter Oreo ice cream in a cup for us to share. I carry you over to a picnic table and sit you down next to me. Your little legs swinging. Your eyes big with delightful anticipation. With one spoonful you smack your lips. “Dewicious!!” you say. We rub our noses together when I ask you for a kiss. And I know I am the luckiest Mommy in the world.

Days like this are wonderful and abundant. You make me laugh and fill me with moments of pure joy each and every day. Thank you, my sweet boy. I tell you, “I love you.” I ask you, “how much?” Sweetly and softly, as if in love yourself, you say, “So much.” I am undone. I am forever Yours.

Love, Mommy xo

Until next time, friend, 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

WE DON’T DO THAT

I have finally sat down from a day of days. Trying to get O out of the house this morning to get to a car service appointment was like pulling teeth. It’s hot and muggy, so THAT doesn’t help matters. We get to the Kia dealership and for a second time, the playroom for use while you wait with your child, was filthy. Nasty filthy. Sorry Kia, not impressed! Anyway, O was being really good, so I figured while I was on the other side of hell’s creation, we would go to an indoor play area that he loves at the Mall. This is where my rant begins.

As a parent, when I take my child to a play area, playground, you name it, my first priority is to watch my child. On occasion, I have met a friend at a playground, and while we try to chat and catch up, we both have our eyes on our children. We are consistent with guiding our children in play. You know, the basic stuff. Wait your turn…no pushing…no grabbing. This is the mom I want to be friends with. You know why? Cause this Mom understands that a trip to the mall play area isn’t time off for her. It’s not “let’s check my Facebook on my phone and tune out for a few minutes.” Trust me, I know how much we all want some time to ourselves. I am the first one to say it. But this isn’t the time.

Taking your child to a group play area is an opportunity to teach your child how to interact socially with others, through play! I am not talking about helicoptering. I’m talking about guiding when it is clear your child does not know which road to take. If I saw my son push past another child to go first down the slide, I would take him aside and explain that we don’t do that. By WE I mean, a civil kind society, does not do that! If my child just grabbed a toy from another child on the playground, I would explain, yet again, that we don’t do that! We do not just take from others. We can ask if we may use the toy…or if we may take a turn. But we do not just take! What hope do our children have in this world without some guidance?

I have taught O to wait his turn. I have taught him not to go down the slide until it’s all clear. I have taught him that we don’t grab or push. I am under NO illusion that these “rules for play” won’t need to be reiterated time and time again with him. Of course they will. He is two. And he is a child. It is not any child’s fault for their behavior, lack of manners or lack of restraint. They are children. It is not their job to remember the things that will serve them as they grow up in this world. It is the job of the parent to remind them (again and again) until it becomes the child’s second nature.

I was so freaking annoyed at the play area today. Countless parents tuned out, letting their entitled children push past others. Some Moms were hovering, but more engaged in chatting with their mommy friends. I get it. We are starved for connection with another adult. Especially one going through the same trials and tribulations. But your child has decided to continuously walk up the slide and block it while other children are waiting to go down. He is completely disregarding other children; ones that are much younger and smaller than he is. He is now lying on the slide completely blocking its path. This is going on now for a bit of time. You do realize that you can say NO to your child, right? I’m not saying you have to go all Joan Crawford on your kid, but at least a gentle reminder that we don’t do that! Do you really think you are helping your children by not giving them guidance? Do you somehow think you are letting them find their way organically on their own? Or…are you just so unaware and ignorant that you think pushing and taking are good? I tell you, I am still shaking my head.

I have been alarmed at the behavior of parents of all ages, races and socioeconomic backgrounds. This epidemic of lack of respect is a wide spread problem. This sense of entitlement being embedded into children’s minds is happening right there on the playground. It’s plain as day to anyone tuned into it. And parents are just sitting back, checking their phones and letting it grow like the social cancer it is.

Yes, I’m pissed. Cause it’s right in front of me. The problem and the solution.

Until next time, 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.

Turning Two

You would think after having two years experience (that’s 730 days) of watching my child grow and develop, I would have come to terms with him inevitably getting older. I have not. I have made strides in the right direction (acceptance), but my heart still aches a bit with each inch and milestone he conquers.

O’s second birthday is approaching, and if I let myself breathe that all in, it could seriously knock the wind out of me. My husband has been asking me what’s wrong with me lately. He can tell something is “off.” I keep saying it’s my stomach. I just don’t feel right. Well, when something is bothering me, that’s where the stress goes. Right to my gut. I’ve not been purposely lying to him. I actually didn’t realize the correlation until I started writing this post. But that’s what’s “got” me. My baby is growing up and there is no way to stop the clock.

That’s not to say that I want to actually stop the clock. Of course not. I want to see him grow and thrive and become the man he is meant to be. It’s just the pangs of loss that hit me occasionally. Sometimes gently and sometimes like a smack across the face. Like now, as this 2 year marker approaches. I understand how precious this whole process is. The act of raising, caring for, and unconditionally loving this being that was created with such love. It is awesome and truly the best thing I have ever done in my life. And it’s all flying by so quickly. I believe this is one of the big reasons why people have more children. The feeling is so wonderful, at times, euphoric. Of course you want to make it last. So you have another. And maybe another. Unless you can’t. Unless it maybe just isn’t in the cards.

Ah, and there it is. The crux of the matter. I didn’t really think about O’s birthday coinciding with the end of our “have another baby” project. But the months have passed and with each one came a reminder that I’m not going to have another child. I promised I wouldn’t be upset. I promised. But as I sit here wiping away my tears, I’m finding my promise is proving to be empty, however well intentioned. I won’t let myself spiral into a dark place over it, however. I have far far too much to be thankful for to let that happen. But I think my not allowing sadness over it was a mistake. That’s a ridiculous notion, really. Not allowing sadness? It’s just silly. As if my heart has a choice. Ha.

So I’ll go on, filling my my mind and days with work and projects. I’ll spin more plates than usual, no doubt. But I will be aware of my particular sadness and honor it. And I suppose, if I need to cry, well then, I’ll cry. At least I won’t be denying my feelings. If you read my blog, you know that I believe everything happens the way it is supposed to. And I don’t believe in regrets. I believe in lessons. But this advanced maternal age mommy wishes perhaps she didn’t wait quite so long to have a child. Maybe there would have been time for another? A tough lesson to swallow in hindsight. But then, perhaps another child was never in the cards. You can really think it to death. Who really has time for that?

So as my little O gets ready to turn two, we will celebrate his time so far on this earth and the immense joy he brings us….with a Sesame Street theme, no less. We are having a combined birthday with his second cousin, Nora, who was born two days after him. Lots of Elmo and Abby Caddaby! Alphabet cookies, crayons and Cookie Monster fudge! I’ll take lots of pics for a fun party blog. And I won’t forget for a moment all that I have.

Until next time, 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

Toddler Madness

There are certain days my patience runs thin. My son is approaching his second birthday. He is in the beginning of the throws of what I am calling toddler madness. This might prove to be the hardest period for us, as his communication skills are still sparse. He says words, yes. But his ability to actually convey specific wants is unhoned, especially the more frustrated he gets. My failure to understand him just adds to his frustration and before I know it, he is in full on the floor tantrum mode. There is no reason or logic to this. It is absolute madness. Hence, my categorical name for this period we are forging into full speed ahead.

Rationally, I know there is usually some reason for these outbursts. He most likely isn’t even aware himself what it might be. And the speculation is vast. It could be that he is hungry. Thirsty. Perhaps his two year molars are giving him a hard time that day. Maybe his shirt is uncomfortable. Maybe….the list goes on. Or, where the real madness comes in, the outburst has no cause. It is not the reaction to anything at all, except the moment hits him and he decides to throw himself on the floor, kick and scream a little, and then, perhaps, get on with his day. Come to think of it…I feel like doing that sometimes. Maybe it’s not so crazy, after all. Hmm.

My pediatrician suggests no parental reaction. She always says, “Don’t encourage any behavior you don’t like by reacting to it.” I’m actually pretty good at being calm in the midst of his storms. Most of the time. It’s the days when the outbursts are mixed with incessant whining, that tax me the most. It’s hard not to react to the whining, though I give it my best shot. At home, I actually walk into another room. I also redirect his attention when he is calm enough. It becomes the hardest to deal with in the car. Both of us trapped in a small space. I can only turn the Hamilton soundtrack up so much.

Mothers who’ve been there…mommys on the same battlefield, I ask you. What do YOU do? And if you had a child who never threw tantrums or whined, keep it to yourself. I don’t even want to know that children like that exist. There isn’t enough Skinny Pop or Two Buck Chuck to get me over that. Thanks. I know every kid is different, but there must be some common thread for how to proactively deal with this “stage of development.” My saving grace at this point is that I am, in fact, an older mom and I have a degree of patience I never would have had 20 years ago. I’m not saying younger Moms can’t have patience. I just know I didn’t have it when I was younger.

The most ironic thing about this stage of “toddler madness,” is how fleeting the madness can be. I can have a morning like today, where the crabby-ness, whining and foot stomping outbursts seemed to have such succession it almost became rhythmic. And then 20 minutes before his nap, my child decides to lovingly stop time. He sits next to me on the couch, lays his head on my shoulder and lets me stroke his hair. For a whole 20 minutes! He may have actually purred. Just when I was ready to give up for the day, he indulges me in his sweet side. Sneaky. Unpredictable. All part of the glorious wonderful madness that is only just beginning.

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

The Way Of Life

I lost my Aunt Anneke this week. It wasn’t sudden. She was battling cancer for some time. But still, the finality of any passing startles me, nonetheless. I am grieving. Not so much for her, as I know she is pain free and was most certainly welcomed into heaven with open arms. She was a wonderful, strong, loving woman. Her full bodied, lasting hugs were her trademark that I will cherish in my memories of her. I am grieving for my uncle who was left here on this earth to do the unimaginable. To go on without her. It breaks my heart.

It’s funny that I should have such a bond with this man. He came into my life when I was in my twenties. He had been estranged from my mother and most of our family for all of my young life. His acute alcoholism kept him away from us for years. After he had gotten sober for good, he came back into our lives and I’m so grateful. Oh, the stories he would tell me over a cup of coffee at my parent’s dining room table! I just adore him despite the fact that we could not be more different. Our views on pretty much everything are diametrically opposed. Yup, everything. But his heart is true, his words are real, and he is just my Uncle Ronnie. The fact that he has a special place in his heart for my little O just makes me love him all the more. And now he is alone without his wife, his partner. It is the way of life. He would tell you that. But it is unthinkable.

The landscape of our family keeps changing. My parents, aunts and uncles are in their seventies and eighties. Several have passed already. Actual distance of siblings and cousins has created emotional distance, as well. It is what happens as you get older, I suppose. I guess I just wish it wasn’t happening quite this soon, for O’s sake. I rationalize, as an older mom, that my family is also older. But he is never going to know, or at least remember, many of the family I love. It is then, that which is understood in my head is not so accepted in my heart.

I don’t believe I actually have a point to make with all this. I think I just wanted to talk about my family. I appreciate you letting me do just that. I know this isn’t exactly one of my typical mommy blog posts. But then being a new mom at 46 isn’t exactly typical either. Having a child late in life comes with all sorts of pros and cons. It is so odd watching family become elderly (or succumb to age) while I witness all the newness my son experiences. It is the biggest bag of mixed emotions I’ve known yet. Immense joy colored with the occasional stroke of sadness and grief. I’m sure it is the way of life for most older moms. It was certainly something I didn’t think about before becoming a mother. I suppose, thank God there is the joy. Such joy!

Thank you for reading and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Xo

I Choose Us

I write a lot about extreme self care and metaphorically putting on your mask before you help those around you. Breathing for yourself so you can be a better mom. As a mother, a huge theme of mine is survival. Motherhood is an awesome, all consuming job, that doesn’t have an end to the work day. Our brains don’t get to shut off and decompress during most days. I am “on” 24/7, even when my husband is home. It’s certainly not for lack of help from him. He is a full hands on Dad. It’s just my Mommy mode. It’s like sleeping with one eye open. I never get to forget I have a child. Not that I would want to, but you get what I’m saying. I have come to realize that my survival plan is short sighted. It doesn’t encompass the big picture.

And so, it occurs to me, sometimes it is not all about MY survival. Nor is it about baby coming first all the time. It’s about the survival of our family. All of us. As a wife, who truly wants and loves this equal partnership I am in, I realize it is not only important, but imperative to sometimes put my partners needs before all else. Yes, I just said that. Before baby and before me. I find that I do a lot to keep myself in balance. I make a conscious effort to seek beauty and positivity every day. I take walks with O. We have adventures and stories and cuddles. It doesn’t always have to be “only me” time to be “me” time. Sometimes my efforts fail me, and that’s when I need assistance, like any normal being.

My husband’s career can’t exactly be called “me” time for him. Although he loves it, it is stressful. And let’s face it, the man is doing it to provide for his family. After all, it is called work. So when does he get to slow down and breathe for himself? He could go to yoga, but that’s never gonna happen. The point is that sometimes we fall out of balance because I am in need of some self care and sometimes we fall out of balance because he is in need of the same. It is my job (and privilege) to help him with that. (Yes, I said privilege and I’ll get back to that.). If it means that I have to give up some of my “only me” time to provide for him, then so be it. Maybe I miss my yoga….when I am in balance, it’s not going to wreck me. I know I’m stronger than that.

You see, to me, the bigger picture is O having two happy, healthy parents who are enjoying raising their child together and who are enjoying their loving partnership. It is about him witnessing a relationship that gives, supports and loves. The stronger we are as a couple, the more secure he will be. The more love he sees, the more he will want to give. I have to look at it like we are the foundation of our family life. If the foundation is cracked (regardless of where the crack lies) our family is on shaky ground. If we are solid, there is no limit to what we (and he) can build upon it.

I say it is my privilege to help my husband, because I am so lucky to have him as my partner. I am not only blessed to share this life with a someone…but with the someone who I truly believe I am meant to be with. There are so many people in this world longing for companionship, for love, for another. I am privileged to take this journey with a beautiful human being….I will not take that for granted.

I often say that O is our world. But in truth it is our family that holds the key to happiness. I can’t be fully happy if my partner is hurting or suffering in any way. As independent as we both are, we work as a unit, not as two independent entities. Our individual balances, triumphs and struggles affect us all. That is what the commitment to partnership means. So I don’t choose ME. I don’t choose O. I choose Us. Every time.

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

From Gucci To Gerber

Tales, Insights & Observations from an Advanced Maternal Age New Mother

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