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


Happy New Year Mommy


As the end of each year inches closer and closer, we often read reviews of the events of the past 365 days.  Highlights, downers, newsmakers, etc.  This morning I was reading the Skimm’s year in review.  I enjoy the Skimm.  If you aren’t familiar, take a peek.  These two women have really made taking in the world news more of a pleasure for this mommy.  Cause let’s face it, the nightly news is depressing to say the least, and who has time for that level of negativity? Not this chicka.

As 2015 comes to a close, what was your year in review? Have you thought about it? Have you taken stock? It’s funny, because there have certainly been negatives and hardships along the path.  But the only things that truly resonate within me are all the joys.  It has been a year of absolute wonder.  And I have my beautiful son and my steady husband to thank for that.

I have to wonder if it is because I am older, that I am truly able to appreciate this time in my life.  I know this is a common theme of mine.  But the question seems to always come up in me.  Is my happiness attributed to the birth of my son? Does it have to do with where I am in my life and what I finally believe I deserve? Perhaps it is a combination of things.  Certainly, above all else, it has to do with gratitude.  I am abundantly thankful, and, in turn, I am abundantly happy.  I am  absolutely certain there is a direct correlation between happiness and gratitude.

So as 2016 begins, I am going to keep accentuating the positive.  All the world’s problems will still be there.  We will no doubt be kicked in the gut again with some senseless shooting somewhere in our country’s backyard.  We will have a year of crazy political rallies and far too much media coverage of a certain bigoted candidate with a shameful comb-over and even more shameful rhetoric.  The world will continue to fear and fight terrorism and the climate will continue to change.  What can we actually control? What can our tangible contribution be (beyond getting out and VOTING)?  We can choose to be happy.  We can pass that gift on to our children.  We can show them by example of how to live in gratitude and positivity.  That’s my resolution.  And I think it’s the only way to defend our souls from the year….hell, from the decades ahead.  So happy new year, Mommy.  HAPPY new year!

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

Flying Solo


I am sitting in the airport awaiting my flight to West Palm Beach. I am flying solo. That isn’t just a cute quip. I am actually by myself. No husband. No child. They are staying home, having a boys weekend, holding the fort down. I will be readying my house in Florida for my snowbird renter. A quick jaunt, but I’ll be away, nonetheless. I don’t know why I feel the need to give you the details of why I am going. Maybe I don’t want you to think I’m leaving my child for a wild girl’s get away or an “all about me” spa weekend. Although, I wouldn’t judge you if YOU went away for a little fun in the sun or some R&R. I’d probably be jealous. Ha. I know I’d be jealous.  Always digressing.

The reason I am sharing this with you, is because this is significant for me. It will be the first time I will spend a night (let alone two nights) away from my O. I have been with him everyday and every night since the day he was born. I understood that I would be away from him when I made these arrangements. At times, I even looked forward to the little “break.” But the moment I had to walk away from him was harder than I expected. I’m just being honest. I’d like to say I walked away with the wind in my hair and the smell of freedom calling me. But instead, I felt like I was leaving a chunk of my own heart in New England. Say it….”Get a life, Mary!” Well, for 18 months and 4 days, he has been our life. Perhaps I am more of a Mommy than I realized.

It’s funny, because I keep telling my husband that I am ready to leave O with Grammy and be whisked away to Puerto Rico or some un-named island in the Caribbean at a moment’s notice. He is the one that is skeptical of leaving O overnight anywhere. He feels he is too young still for that. I tell him I would have no problem leaving O in her quite capable hands for a little weekend (or more) holiday with my husband. But, now I wonder……is that the truth? Could I stand being away from him for that long? Well, I guess I will see how I do first with two nights.

It’s not like I am worried about O. I am sure he will be quite happy to have Daddy take over the reigns of his day. My beloved is MORE than capable. He is truly Daddy of the Year. He will be silly and say things like, “I don’t know where his clothes are.” Or, ” I don’t know what he eats for lunch!” But the truth is, he can take care of O just as well (or better) than I can. Yes, haters…my husband is amazing in all ways. Suck on that.

My trip has only begun and I am missing both my boys something fierce. Logically, I know it’s a quick and necessary trip. I’ll be home before I know it. I was telling my husband on the way to the airport, that it’s actually good for me to go away on my own. It’s important for me to re-visit my independence every now and then. I truly believe that. It was a huge part of who I was before O. And I’m sure it will be again, when he is a bit older. But the pang in my heart when I left them still shocked me. After a life of travel and adventures, home is where I want to be. It is who I am now. It is my happy place. And boy, do I feel lucky to say that.

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

It Is What It Is


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

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

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

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

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


What To Tell Our Children About The World


With recent events in Paris, Beirut and Africa, not to mention bombs taking down planes and ISIS filling the headlines, it is a fact that the world has become a scary place.  That’s putting it mildly.  It made me think about what we will tell O about the world we brought him into.  Will we shield him? Will we tell him the truth, as tough as it may be? What we tell him and how we tell him things will help shape who he becomes.

I think honesty is the best policy.  But what about omitting information to protect your child? Is that lying? I certainly don’t want him growing up being ignorant of the world and its ways.  But I also don’t want to scare him.  The idea of suicide bombers is hard to swallow for an adult, let alone a child.    So what do we do? I guess it’s a pretty personal decision for parents.  My husband is in favor of honesty all the way….I like to say “gentle honesty.”

I know some people who didn’t tell their children about 9/11.  Or about the Sandy Hook School shootings.  How you keep something like either of those things from your kid is beyond me.  I mean logistically.  The stories were everywhere.  Not just TV.  You’d have to live under a rock not to notice the outpouring of emotion.  And then what happens when the kids whose parents did have a conversation with them, start explaining it to other children? Your child gets the version as understood by little Johnny from down the street.

I guess like everything, we should approach it with thought and balance.  I suppose it isn’t necessary to have a conversation with O about such things until he reaches school age.  Or before, if  he starts inquiring for himself.   And I suppose we should  gently pour the truth out in terms and in quantities appropriate for his age.  But there are certainly things I want him to be afraid of…like  strange men in vans who have puppies and lollipops.   Damn straight.  Stranger Danger is for real and a whole other post…but something to certainly discuss way before school age.

Ugh! The world can be a horrible place with such evil lurking in it.  How do we make him aware of it without making him completely fearful or worse, completely cynical.  The world is filled with such disenchantment.  Such wild disenchantment.  I believe that is a big part of where much evil is born.  So how do we keep his innocence and naïveté while educating him about the world? Seems an impossible task.  Unless the key is to also fill him with hope.  To teach him respect and trust.  To show him the magic that exists in our every day. To let him know that even though bad things can happen, miracles happen, as well.  To fill him with kindness, faith and possibilities, while we balance it all out with doses of some tough realities.

This parenting thing is not for the faint of heart.  I suppose if we let ourselves become consumed with the terrors that exist we would never procreate.  And the evil that exists would win.  I certainly don’t want that kind of world for O.  It is with a heavy heart for this world that I wish you a blessed Thanksgiving.  May you be especially thankful for the loved ones you call Family and may your heart continue to hold hope in it.

Until next time, this emotional mommy is going to have a good cry and say some extra prayers.  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

The Other Shoe


My little O has an issue with shoes.  He doesn’t like to keep them on.  At the moment, he only has one pair.  Imagine my quandary when one goes missing while we are out and about.  Give me strength.

Today’s case was perhaps the most dramatic and maybe the most ironic.  We were at the mall where I JUST purchased for my shoeless Joe, a pair of snow boots and an upsize pair of sneakers that light up. (So fun!).  I figured I should buy a pair of sneakers that he will be in after the winter…as he still fits into his only pair and it was a buy one get one half off sale.  I digress, as usual.  We made our purchase, went to the disappointing play area, we made a diaper change which included an elevator trip, and browsed in a couple stores for Mommy.  It was nearing lunch time, so I figured it was time to get out of Dodge.  We got out to the car and I got him out of the stroller, into his car seat and saw he only had  one shoe on.  !!!!!  What the?! I looked around, it was nowhere.  I put him back in the stroller, threw my diaper bag in the car, cause who needs to lug THAT around longer than necessary, and headed back into Macy’s.  I retraced my steps.  That included going back in the elevator.  Going through the stores which are all the way on the other side of the mall.  3/4 way through retracing my steps I decided, “screw it!”  I may have actually said that out loud.  Yes, in fact, I did say it out loud.  To no one in particular,  just the shoe Gods in general, apparently.  I was sweating by this point.  And due to the fact that I switched from my antiperspirant/deodorant to JUST deodorant due to the request from my husband and his concern for my getting early onset Alzheimer’s…I absolutely stunk.  I was not a happy camper.

We headed back to the parking lot where the mystery began.  I figured, “oh well, I’ll double up his socks in his new sneakers and hope he can walk correctly in them.”  We get to the car, and I see something tan resembling his little boat shoe way under the car….hidden by the wheel, in fact.  I’m happy to see the shoe.  But I’m also pissed at the shoe, because I can’t get pissed at an 18 month old.  Completely irrational, I know.

Mind you, this was all after an early morning Doctor appointment for me, at which O decided to react as if it HIS appointment.  Crying inconsolably and hanging on me pretty much the entire time.  I was the one getting the flu shot kid! It was not my best day.  I say this because I have been accused of pooping rainbows.  Let me tell you, some days are rough.  Sometimes I want to put him down for a nap and drown my sorrows in a bowl of chips and double Downton Abbey episodes.  (God, that sounds good!).  The point is, I have bad days.  I have really sucky days.  And I have days that are awesome. It’s all part of the territory, I suppose.  Sort of like poop on your hands.  Some days your just gonna get poop on your hands and that’s all there is to it.  You just wash up real good and take a deep cleansing breath….pun totally intended.

So what have I learned from this? I’m not really sure to tell you the truth.  Maybe I should have more than one pair of shoes for O? Maybe I should watch more closely to see if we leave a trail when out and about? Maybe it’s just that some days are better than others.  The only thing I am sure of is that no matter what, I’m still the luckiest chick I know.

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.  Xo

That Mom


Before I had a child, I vowed to keep my offspring neat, clean and well groomed. No disheveled children.  No dried food on their face.  No dirt on their knees.  No poop stains on the back of their pants.  No sweaty, un-combed hair….you get the picture.  We’ve all seen these children.  I have always said, I will never be “that mom” who goes anywhere with her child in such a state.  Well, as I say more often than not these days, NEVER SAY NEVER.  You know, when my husband read this post, he said he thought I came across uptight and judge-y…..and well, let’s call a spade a spade…I have been.

I usually pride myself on having O look , at the very least, clean.  I am definitely one for having him look adorable whenever I am out with him.  You know, cute outfit, hair combed to the side, clean shoes and socks, etc.  But today, after dinner, my husband and I wanted to take O to the playground.  It was about an hour or so before O’s bedtime.  He had his dinner.  He had a poop.  My husband changed him and  told me that O had a little diaper leak, but that it wasn’t that much, so he kept him in the same outfit.  Well, ok…I’m not gonna question the man who offers to change a diaper.  The baby was fast approaching the “tired wall” and it was time to expend some serious energy.  To tire the poor kid out, basically.  Lets just overlook the little poop stain.

I was putting O in the car, and in the light of day, I realized his face was covered in dried sweet potato.  It was also all down the front of his romper.  Nice.  Oh whatever…a little sweet potato never hurt anyone.  His knees, now in full view, were filthy.  Oye.  Ok….they would get dirty at the playground anyway, right?  I’m beginning to see this messy thing is a slippery slope.

About half way through our playground outing, I realized my child looked like a bonafide ragamuffin.  Disheveled would be a polite term.  I thought to myself, “I am THAT Mom.”   But in that same instance, I knew it didn’t matter one bit.  This delicious wonderful child was ours.  Under all that dried sweet potato and dirt was the most perfect thing we had ever done.  I guess it’s a good lesson in not judging what you see all the time.  “That Mom” most likely, like me, was frazzled….in a rush….and thought to herself, “I’m just running out for a sec! What does it matter?”  Well, it doesn’t.  Not one bit.

Is your child happy? Is he exploring? Is she getting her hands dirty, figuratively and literally? That’s what matters.  I guess I see it differently now.  I see the sweat and dirt on O as an indication of how active he was all day.  His energy level is through the roof! I can only imagine that level rising as he gets older.  And the harder he plays, the harder he sleeps.  I’m not gonna mess around with that! The occasional stain on his shirt? The smudge on his face? Well, shit happens.  But one thing I know is, it all comes out in the bath water.  Literally.

This does not mean I throw all good intentions of keeping my child clean out the window.  But there is a time and a place for all things…and there are limits to what you can do at times.  I’m a good Mom.  No, scratch that.  I’m a really good Mom.  But I am not super human.  Often, I miss a spot on his sweet cheek after lunch.  Occasionally, I keep him in a dribbled on shirt.  And most times he likes to run his hands through the dirt in the yard.  He’ll survive….and so will I.  Happily and heartily.  Growing and exploring and figuring it all out….together.

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


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.


Raising a Good Kind Decent Person


I am sitting for a moment.  Resting.  Catching my breath.  I’ve been working all morning, packing, sorting, labeling boxes….all while trying to keep O’s routine afloat.  At least let me feed him on time.  And get him down for a nap…Yes! A nap! There is a sea of boxes in my kitchen.  Some packed and some waiting to be filled.  There are towers of suitcases in my living room.  Multiple rolls of tape and bubble wrap….somewhere.  We move in two days, but I just have to rest for a second.  Catch my breath and write a little because there has been something gnawing at me.  Through all the happy disarray that is our life right now, there is an underlying sadness sitting on my heart.  I’m sure you have heard about it.  I’m talking about the terrorist attack on a church and it’s members in South Carolina.   I can’t shake it.  I can’t just gloss over it and move on.  I believe there are so many of us who are feeling this way.  I’m not confused or baffled.  I can’t say, “How could this happen?”  I know exactly how it happened.

I’m upset and I’m mad.  I am ashamed of our laws.  I am ashamed of the racism that runs through our country’s veins, infecting generation after generation.  I’m ashamed that our biggest priority, as a country, has been to defend ourselves from terrorism, but just the foreign kind.  I’m mad at our elected officials who want to pretend this wasn’t an act of terrorism.  I’m ashamed of “Merica.”  I feel small and insignificant.  I feel, as I imagine so many of us do, helpless.

I then look over at my son and see a lifetime of possibilities.  I know that my husband and I have an important job to do.  We have to raise this child to become a good, kind and decent person.  In light of this crazy world we live in, it is clear to me, this is no easy task.  I can’t imagine anyone having the intention to raise their child to be a monster.  Of course not.  But what about the idea of parenting with intention? Children don’t just raise themselves…..or is that is what’s happening?  This world is filled with violence, hate, rage and unspeakable demons.  My child will be bombarded with these things time and time again as he grows.  It is our job to explain. To teach. To filter and interpret until he is old enough to do so himself.  If we neglect to guide him, then we will have failed him.  It is our intention to raise a good, kind and decent person.  We can never lose sight of that result.  It is the least we can do for him.  He has given our life profound unexpected meaning.  He has given us a love we didn’t really know existed until we were filled with it.  We owe him everything.

I don’t want to throw stones at any parent.  I don’t want to pass judgment, though it’s a tough one.  The pain the shooter’s parents must feel is unimaginable to me.  Frankly, it scares me to death.  I wouldn’t want to be in those shoes, God Forbid.  I always say, “never say never.” So I won’t say, “that would never be me!”   I will just pray extra hard that it won’t be.  I will try extra hard to have it not be.  And I’ll keep both my eyes on the boy I am raising to be that good, kind and decent person.

There is so much more I want to say.  So many thoughts swirling around my head regarding this quandary our country is in.  I am struggling.    I honestly can’t find the words.  At least the right words.  But one thing I know for sure is that we need to talk about this.  We need to figure this out.  And it isn’t going to happen if we try to forget about it or pretend it didn’t happen. I certainly don’t have the answers for everyone.  I can only do my little part (which is pretty big).  I need to love and raise our son.  I need to actively participate in his upbringing.  It will be the most important thing I can do to end this craziness that has become the norm.

Choose Your Husband Well

In honor of Father’s Day and my amazing husband and baby Daddy, I decided to repost this love letter of sorts to my beloved. He is truly awesome. I honestly didn’t know just how wonderful he would be at this parenting thing. He surprises and delights me on a daily basis. From washing bottles to the love and gentle care he gives to both Little O and I every single day….he is Father of the Year in our eyes. Thank you, my love, for choosing to share this wonderful life with us. Xo


It seems like it is just common sense. Choose your husband well. ?? Really, aren’t we ALL trying to do that when we choose a mate? But the criteria for a good husband is different than the criteria for a good father…or is it? Now, I have dated a fair share of men in past. And since I am “older” I have dated a good deal more than perhaps your normal 20 or 30 something year old has. Now, as I know my mother and mother-in-law read this blog, I will try to leave out the tawdry details. But let’s say, for good measure, that I have been around. I was never your one night stand girl at all. I had lasting relationships with several men. The WRONG men. I guess they served their purpose for that time in my life, but still WRONG. And when I say that, they could have certainly been RIGHT for someone. Just not me. I met my now husband over 10 years ago. Now you all know that he is a good deal younger than me. (11 years). So now imagine, 10+ years ago…..he was a boy. Was he marriage material? NO! Of course not. But did he have the makings of a man who would be not only an amazing husband, but a more amazing father? You bet he did. I am just lucky enough that he stuck it out and waited for me to come to my senses.

So what is this criteria I think so important for the ideal mate? Note, I don’t say perfect, because there is no such thing. In fact, faults are part of the charm. So don’t knock them. And realize that YOU, yes YOU, have faults too. It’s part of owning who you are in a real adult relationship. I truly believe the number one thing to look for in a mate is a kind heart. I knew my now husband possessed this rare feature on about day three of meeting him. And it is still at the core of his being. It is inherently who he is. Kind. Sometimes, it is to his chagrin. But he is truly Kind.

The second thing would be Honesty. How many of us can really truly say we are with someone we can absolutely trust with our life? I have NEVER been with another man that I could say that about. In fact, with several, I knew it to be quite the opposite. I mean, I am sure they would have tried to save me from a burning building (you know, to keep up appearances), but they would most likely have shagged two women on the way up and a set of twins on the way down. The thing is, I knew this about these men. Somewhere, somehow, I knew. They were self absorbed, unavailable, unwilling to truly commit to something other than themselves and unaware of what they truly wanted from life. In flux, you could say. Caught in a kind of Peter Pan vortex.

My husband knew exactly what he wanted when I met him. Regardless of the fact that he was too young to make those things happen, he was firm and committed to having the life that he imagined. He wanted to be married. (To me, lucky for me). And he wanted a family. Now again, lucky for me, his want for me in his life, trumped the want for a family…because who knew at the time of our commitment, if I would be able to give him children ?? He sure didn’t. But in all his youth, he understood that WHO you choose as your partner, should you choose to have a partner, makes all the difference to the life you will live. Add a baby to the mix and your choice of partner becomes an even more profound thing.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. People who raise a child on their own are truly amazing. I seriously don’t know HOW they do it. Sharing this journey with my husband is half the fun of it. Someone who understands my fierce unconditional LOVE for this little creature, because HE feels it too. It’s another level of connection we now share. The idea of it is quite awesome! WE created this child! This amazing, beautiful, fantastic child!! And no one thinks that about him like WE do. To us, he is perfect (even though there is no such thing). He is EVERYTHING. He is the best parts of both of us (and even our not so great parts, but hey who’s looking?). He is our celebration of our love for each other! I mean, how do you share all of that with someone who is unavailable? Someone who is afraid of truly being loved? I don’t know. Maybe it’s possible?? I know plenty of women, married to men who are just not “there.” Guys who aren’t at peace being the husband and father. Guys who are always chasing a skirt to somehow elude their mortality….??? As I re read this, I can see the cynicism. But, I am old enough not to bullshit you.

To truly enjoy this journey of being a parent, you MUST have a partner who is with you 110%. Someone who is just as jazzed about it as you. Who is just as tired and fried, but who picks you up after a long day of “fussy baby” antics. The guy who at 4am, says “I’ve got it babe.” They guy who takes the baby out on Saturday mornings to give you some “Me” time. The guy who still looks at you like you are the most beautiful women he’s ever seen….even with spit up on your shirt and no makeup on your face. He’s got your back…and there is no doubt that he will always have it. I’ve never enjoyed that level of “no doubt.” It’s pretty wonderful. I highly recommend it. But then, that’s what this whole post is about. Choose your partner well, friends. Choose him well.

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