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





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

A Mother’s Day


I’ve never been one for holidays created by greeting card companies.  Valentine’s Day is the worst.  My husband and I have vowed to never make a big deal of such a day.  We believe all our days should be reflective of our love and commitment, and not for one set day because Hallmark dictates it.  I know Mother’s Day falls under the same sort of quasi-holiday category, but I have to admit, I feel a bit different about it.  To give it equal due, I feel different about Father’s Day, too.  So hear me out.

I am not looking for what the advertisers or the media suggest I want.  There is no bauble, gadget, or knick knack I am longing for.  I don’t want all sorts of money spent on me.   I don’t want a day at the spa or a day all to myself to be pampered.  I don’t want a weekend away, a maid service to clean the whole house, or some cheesy overpriced greeting card written by some stranger.   It’s so much simpler than that.  What I would like to celebrate and have acknowledged, is the fact that I try every single day not to ruin the amazing child that by some natural miracle ended up in my care.  I’d like a Mother’s Day.

What is that you ask? Well, hold onto your yoga pants.  It’s a day where I can sleep uninterrupted for 8+ hours (without having to go to bed at 8pm the night before).  I can take a long luxurious bath instead of a quick shower.  I would be able to have a bowel movement…all by myself….in peace…uninterupted.  Without Thomas the Tank Engine.  Or whilst reading The Little Engine That Could.  It’s a day that for a whole 24 hours I am NOT the person who touches or cleans up another person’s feces.  (To be fair to my husband, he takes on the dirty diapers like a champ when he’s around.)  And, most importantly, it’s a day that my husband showers me with words of encouragement and love from his heart.  Oh, and he makes me breakfast, lunch and dinner. Now these last two requests actually happen on a regular basis in our home, but they are such a nice part of our day that it only makes sense to include them.

Now I realize that as simple as this day seems in theory, the actual execution of these requests may prove more than difficult.  (Lucky for me, my husband is a rock star!) But, perhaps it might seem impossible for some mates.  Hence, the bauble or some fancy high priced item.  The mate thinks, “how can she be upset with me if I give her _______?” And she won’t be.  I mean who gets mad at jewelry or a Coach bag?  The retailers are surely happy.  Hubby is happy because he dodged a mega parenting bullet.  But most likely, it isn’t what she truly wants on this day.  If she is anything like me, it most certainly is not.

So Hallmark, Zales, Pandora and all you other retailers and tall tale fabricators….you aren’t on my radar.  I could care less about what you have to offer.  I don’t know that any woman who stays home everyday with her toddler really wants what you are peddling. As I looked around the library today at story time, I saw the faces of other mothers that seemed to need what I am in need of.   We all most likely just want to remember who we actually are.  To have a moment to acknowledge our own worth unattached to the non stop job of caregiving.  To have a few moments to think of/and for ourselves, all the while knowing that our most precious possession is being cared for by our most precious partner.   It’s that simple.

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.  Hope you get to have a rockin Mother’s Day.  Xo thanks for reading!

If The Shoe Fits


I was getting X-rays done at the dentist yesterday.  Carol, the dental assistant who cleans my teeth and takes said X-rays, was making chit chat.  Of course, when you have a toddler who is in the waiting room with Daddy, the small talk tends to be about your child.  In this case, O’s presence in the office seemed to bring up some nostalgia for Carol.  She started to tell me, as most people do, how fast it all goes.  How he will be 21 before I know it.  And then she said, “What I wouldn’t give to hold my son as that little infant again.”  She cradled her arms and for a second I could see her newborn baby right there in her mind’s eye.  She said it was her favorite time of being a mother.  I assured her I was enjoying each moment with O….and just smiled.  But, I’ll be honest with you, my heart was aching a bit.

I wanted to be able tell her that I could relate.  I wanted to say, ” I know the feeling.”  But I didn’t know the feeling.  When O was a newborn, I couldn’t stop crying.  I would hold him in my arms and cry.  A lot of that time is truly a blur to me.   I had an impulse to share with her my bout with post partum blues, but I didn’t want to rain on her memory and make it about me.  I just smiled.  But inside I knew I missed something apparently very special with my son in the first several weeks of his life.  Something I’ll never get back.  Hence, the ache in my heart.

Now I’ve talked a lot about post partum depression and shared most every detail of my story with my readers.  So you know that my situation was short lived (thank God).  And I am certainly not harping on the past.  What’s done is done.  I can’t change any of it and I can’t get that time back.  I have not beat myself up over it for quite some time now.  But, it is important to me that I acknowledge the feeling of loss, however minute it may be perceived to be.  With out acknowledging the darkness I was in, I can’t fully appreciate the joy and light I am basking in now.  Does that make any sense?

My conversation with this woman was such a sweet memory for her and a true reminder for me to be grateful for where I am presently.  I think back to that time and I feel like a completely different person now.  It was like I didn’t know how to even walk in the shoes of that new mother.  I just hobbled along, stumbling (and crying). And now, I feel so sure footed….like I am sprinting through fields of gold.  It’s as if these Mommy Shoes were meant for me.  Like they were in my wardrobe all the time, I just didn’t realize it.  I guess that is a lot of shoe references.  I can’t really even tell you how I wound up here in this amazing place, except that I had the unending support of my husband and I kept putting one foot in front of the other. One day at a time.

O is napping.  I sit here in my favorite writing spot in the house.  The skylight above me allows the sunshine to stream in onto my lap.  There are toy trucks and cars strewn about the sectional.  And outside I can hear bees buzzing and buds opening.  I’m not missing a thing.

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.  Always. 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

My Name Is Mommy


I am continually discovering on this journey of motherhood.  Even at my “advanced maternal age” I learn something new about myself everyday.  I constantly have those moments when I go,” Aha! That is why Moms do that!”  Things I used to roll my eyes at now make sense.  This constant learning curve certainly keeps this mother humble.

One of the things that used to make me cringe, was a husband and wife calling each other Mommy and Daddy.  I have always thought that was really ridiculous.  It reminded me of baby talk in a way, and I just couldn’t stomach it.  Well this is the perfect case of having to go through it to understand it.

Last week little O walked up to me and said, clear as day, “Hey Mare!”  I thought to myself “huh?”  He said it again (in case I missed it) and turned and walked away in search of a truck.  My 22 month old son was calling me by my nickname.  Like a little version of my husband.  “Hey Mare!”

Now I shouldn’t be shocked.  Of course he hears my husband call me Mare.  But then it dawned on me.  THAT is why parents call each other Mommy and Daddy!! Hello, Mommy!?  Duh! It’s not because there is some weird baby talk fetish at work….it’s because a toddler will repeat EVERYTHING he hears, including inappropriate expletives and, of course, our first names.

Let me tell you, try as hard as you may to mind your P’s & Q’s, a toddler will undoubtedly pick up the words you absolutely don’t want him to hear.  It will be the ONE time you slip because shards of fiber glass are shooting into your fingers while you are carelessly throwing something away and your toddler sits watching in his wagon.  Doesn’t everyone say “Fudge You!” to inanimate objects?  Except I didn’t say Fudge, did I?  Nope.  If only.  Hang out with us enough, and the actual phrase can be heard coming from my son.  He really captured my inflection perfectly, I might add.  We decided at first not to acknowledge it and now we pretend he is saying “vacuum” (stress on the second syllable).  I kid you not.

The point is, my name is now Mommy.  My husband is Daddy.  My Mother-in-law is Grammy and so it goes.  Every day the ridiculousness of parenting becomes more and more my norm.  Spelling things out absolutely happens in our house…you can’t say the word s-n-a-c-k until it’s actually happening.  No one needs that kind of melt down.  I tell you,  I get it now.  It’s all out of necessity.  And we are not alone in it.  People with kids around O’s age or a bit older are all in the same boat.  The same leaky boat. We are  patching up the holes with chewing gum, scotch tape, or whatever we can find to make due, to survive the day.   The scary part is that we are only just entering the toddler trenches. The combat has only begun.  This M-O-M needs a N-A-P.  Signing out.  Over and out.

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

Yogi Mommy


With a dance background, the physical aspects of yoga have come quite easily to me.  Although I am not quite as flexible as I was before the birth of O, I maintain a level of flexibility that is well above average.  I stretch every day, knowing that one day, if I don’t use it, I’ll lose it. Which leads me to the reason I began taking yoga class.  It’s funny, I started going to yoga because I wanted to feel more in shape.  But it has done more for my mindset and psyche than anything else.  And strangely, it helps me to be a better Mom.  That hour of time that is “just for me” pays off ten fold in every other area of my life.

More than anything else I do for myself in any given week (which, let’s face it, isn’t a lot these days) this one special hour is personal and parenting gold.  It fuels me with positivity and calm.  It lets me, unapologetically, breathe for myself.  For a whole hour.  Before I had O, I would not have understood the importance of that.  I guess I took the idea of “breathing for myself” for granted.  Before O, extreme self care was instinctual.  But becoming a mother has changed all my instincts.  My first thought these days is to take care of O.  What can I provide for him? Are his needs being met? But what I have learned, 21 months into this parenting journey, is that caring for myself is equally important.   Now, I understand the concept of “breathing for myself,” not just in the context of being a mother, or a woman, but of being human.  It is not a luxury.  It is a necessity.

Oh it sounds so La Dee Da, Organic Crunchy Granola.  So be it.  I don’t care.  It works.  I don’t need all the massages, manicures and pedicures I once indulged in.  I don’t need the vapid shopping sprees or endless “me” time.  I need an hour. An hour of mindful meditative physical commitment.

It’s simple once I get there.  It’s just that sometimes the “getting there” isn’t so easy.  Working it around my husband’s work day, getting dinner started, feeding the baby, etc.  It can be a bit of an obstacle course just getting out of the house.  But they are hoops I’m happy to jump through to get to my slice of positive pie.  In truth, it isn’t that tough, we just don’t have it down yet.  It disturbs our regular routine, so it seems like a whirlwind when I leave, but it will soon become part of our rhythm.

As I see and feel the benefits of this magic hour, I now realize I don’t just want it.  I need it. I swear, it gives me a sense of peace and strength to get through the week.  It gets me right in the head.  It aligns my body.  It wakes up parts of my body (and soul) that I have been neglecting.  I have more patience.  I am more creative.  I have more to give both my son AND my husband.  I am a better mom,  a better wife and, dare I say, a better person.  All because of yoga! It makes me laugh, because it sounds so silly, but anyone who practices yoga knows the serious life benefits it possesses.

To be honest, I’m sure it doesn’t have to be Yoga.  You could meditate.  You could hike.  You could cycle. Whatever floats your boat.  For me, yoga is a perfect fit.  I would never turn down a solo nature hike, but I just can’t make that work on a weekly basis with our schedules.  So yoga it is.  And I could not be happier. I guess if there was one thing I would want to share with a new mother it would be the idea that self care is not selfish.  It seems obvious.  But to a new mother, it isn’t.  It just isn’t.

I’ll leave you with something my yoga teacher says at the end of class.  I wish you peace in your thoughts, peace in your words, and peace in your heart.  Until next time, be good to yourself, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up.  Thanks for reading.  Namaste! Xo

Mommy vs Trump


As I look out the window, there are snow flurries falling. The existing snow is peaceful and reverent, reminding me that there are, indeed, four distinct beautiful seasons where we live. We are so fortunate. My bowl of wasabi peas and taro chips helps my mind crunch around today’s topic. I wanted to avoid being political. Lord knows, my husband wishes I would. Poor guy.  Invariably, our dinner conversation turns to the latest debate (or circus act) or, as of last night, primary results. I take in so much information every day and have no one but my 20 month old to discuss it with. So obviously, my husband walks through the door and is usually bombarded with my thoughts on the presidential race. Sexy, right?

Alas, I cannot abstain from a somewhat political post this week. Who am I kidding, it’s full on politico. It consumes my thoughts at the moment, and the best way to alleviate that is to write about it. So….warning: You may not agree with me. And that is fine. But I need to ask some serious questions of people. Because WHO becomes president of our United States DOES matter. Not just to us who are old enough to vote, but to our children and our grandchildren. It matters a great deal.

Yesterday, the state of New Hampshire gave the Republican primary win to the most severely unqualified (not to mention uncouth, and unkind) candidate on the ballot. Am I shocked? I suppose I am. Am I dismayed? Absolutely.  Am I sort of sickened? Well, yes, I am. What does this say about us as a country? I mean, holy cow, this is for REAL, people. What does it say to our children when the brash, bigoted, foul mouthed bully rises?

I make no secret that I consider myself a liberal democrat. But if I happened to be a republican, how could I vote for the likes of a Donald Trump? He isn’t really a republican. In fact, he is pretty much killing the party and everything being a true republican stood for. He, of course, wouldn’t know the difference, because he hasn’t educated himself with the history of the party, nor does he seem to care about it. But if you are a republican, how do you vote for a candidate with no content to his character and no actual plan to “make America great again” whatever that means? The demagogue/buffoon has no place as the leader of the free world. This isn’t for entertainment. It puts in jeopardy people’s lives and the credibility of our nation.

People want to blame President Obama for their hardships, but it’s those same American people who elected a Republican controlled Congress who would not work across the aisle. And they are angry? At what? Their lack of foresight? Did they not think this political gridlock would become the norm? It seems to me that Trump’s appeal is based on anger and fear. His entitled, thug-like bullish behavior somehow resonates in people who are seeking a quick fix to their problems but who don’t want to shoulder any responsibility or take any part in being part of the solution. In my opinion, Mr. Trump embodies everything dark and dirty in the cliche of the Ugly American.

You really failed, New Hampshire. I’m just grateful my O isn’t old enough to ask questions about this election. The election process was always something I was proud of, as an American.  I remember watching the inaugural ceremony when President Obama was sworn in the first time. I remember my father being so moved, he wept. I remember thinking, “Wow, we’ve come a long way!” I remember feeling proud to be an American. Not today, New Hampshire. Not today.

Until next time, when I swear I’ll talk about lotion making or fluff sandwiches, 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

Top 10 Occupational Hazards of a SAHM


I have been realizing more and more, there are several alarmingly real, and often truly gross, occupational hazards of being a Stay At Home Mom.  I am sure as my boy gets older, the list will evolve and grow, as he does.  But the list for the parent of a toddler is pretty robust, to say the least.  I have said it before and I’ll say it again, this is the toughest job in the world….and not for the faint of heart.  I’m sure everyone’s  list has variations…but here’s my top 10.

# 1.  You will get sick.  Be it the cold your LO got from this week’s play date or the stomach bug that flew through the entire story time group….you will come down with whatever your LO gets.  It’s just the way it goes.

# 2.  You will wear your toddler’s food on occasion.  Whether it splatters by mistake or your LO decides it would look better on your shirt than on his spoon…you will wear it.

# 3.  You will become disconnected from your friends without children.  It doesn’t mean it’s forever.  But it just happens.   When you find yourself with a free moment, you’ll realize that you couldn’t possibly call them right now, as it’s only 5 am where they live.

# 4.  You will be tired.  You will fall in love with bed.  Sleep becomes the highest priority after taking care of your LO.  You will dream of sleep while you are sleeping.

# 5.   You will get thrown up on.  It’s not pretty.  Nor does it smell nice.

# 6.   You will get poop on some part of you or your apparel. Whether it be a leaky diaper, or a diaper change gone wrong, it will happen.  If you are lucky enough to have a boy….you will, at least once, get pee in your face.  Again, not pretty nor fresh smelling.

# 7.   Your nice things will not remain nice.  Your brand new carpet will get soiled and your $4000 couch will become a Kleenex for your toddler’s runny nose.  It’s just stuff.  Get a good protection plan.

# 8.   Everything you say will be repeated.  Everything.  Choose your words carefully.  Oh, shit!

# 9.    You will feel like you are failing.  Often.  Rest assured,  if you care that you are, then you most likely are not.

#10.   You will not be prepared for the amount of love you possess for your child.  Nor will you imagine how it keeps growing exponentially.    It often takes your breath away.  Get an inhaler.

Until next time, keep smiling, 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

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