Month: September 2015

Project Sibling

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Sick Baby Silly Mommy

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This week there has been no jam making or furniture staining.  No re-upholstering, no sanding woodwork, no projects period.  Everything is in a holding pattern. Little O is sick.  He has a high fever.   Red throat. Sick look in his eyes.  Yes, my little bub is sick.

It is really the first time he’s been sick.  He had a cold once at around 5 months old and he has been teething since before his first tooth at 4 months….but he’s never really been this sick. You know, for days.  I don’t like it.  What makes it even worse is that he can’t tell me what feels bad.  At 15 months old he is just stuck feeling horrible, wondering why.  It’s our job to guess and assess.  Not easy, is it parents? It’s just the worst.

I say “it’s the worst,” but in truth, we have had it quite easy and have been very blessed.  We have a healthy little boy who happens to be sick right now.  But it makes me think about the parents who have children who are REALLY sick.  Who were born with an illness. Who spend days at a time, even months, in a hospital.  I can’t imagine the level of worry those parents must endure.  It is unfathomable to me.  I suppose as a parent you just do what you have to do to get through it.  But talk about courage.  The courage to face every day and create a world of beautiful possibilities for your child in the face of such uncertainty…..these parents are truly heroic.  I pray I will never really know what that is like.

I realize that I have thought of O’s  good health as a given.  I have taken it for granted so easily.  How awful of me.  How audacious.  I think about how tough the week has been with a fussy needy sick child….and he isn’t even THAT sick.  How dare I! Talk about loss of perspective.  I need to thank my lucky stars because TODAY I have a sick little boy….but tomorrow or the next day he will be better.  And for TODAY,  my husband and I and our families are healthy.  My cousin calls it a “grace period.” It’s a window of time where everyone is doing ok.  Later? Who knows? Let’s be grateful for the good stuff, NOW.

So I will follow the Doctor’s orders.  I’ll continue to push the fluids on my little guy.  He just won’t eat yet.   And I’ll coddle and cuddle him and control his temperature with a piggyback of Baby Motrin and Infant Tylenol.  I’ll read to him and let him be fussy.  And soon he will be back to his joyful energetic self and I’ll be writing about some new struggle.  But I will not take his good health and our great fortune for granted again.  If you happen to be a parent with a child who has a challenging sickness, know that there is someone you have never met who is thinking of you and praying for your child.  In fact, I’d venture to say you have a whole army of people doing just that.

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! Thanks for reading! Xo

Recipe For A Baby At 43!

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

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

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

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

6 months prego

6 months prego

 

7 months

7 months

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

8 months

8 months

The beginning of 9 months! With the handsome hubby!

The beginning of 9 months! With the handsome hubby!

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

A day or two before delivery.

A day or two before delivery.

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

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A few weeks ago I did another thing I always said I would NEVER do as a mom.  I have my reasons, as I’m sure all women do.  The fact that the summer heat was breathing down my neck played a huge part in the decision.  Okay okay enough with the lead up….just spit it out already! I cut my long hair.  I now sport a shoulder length bob.  Half way to soccer mom.

Why would I go and do such a thing? Well….let’s be fair.  I wasn’t exactly “doing” my long hair on a regular basis. In fact, the number  of times I “styled” it since O was born is a very low digit number.  And when I actually did (which took forever) I would wind up putting it in a mommy bun or pony tail anyway.  Talk about a waste of time.  I just don’t have an hour or more to waste a day.

Another factor is, as I said, the summer heat.  I needed that mane off my neck! Too much hair.  Too much making me HOT! I started to get angry at my hair.  That’s not a good place to be.  And yes, I could have continually thrown it up in the Mommy bun…but just drying it was taking too much time.  And to be the woman with the wet hair in the Mommy bun seemed bleaker to me than a mommy bob.  The bob also seems relatively fashionable these days as I look at celebrities on the magazine covers while I wait in line at Target.  Right? So I did it!

My sister in law’s niece, Abby, is a hairdresser and a complete hair genius.  This girl is talented.  She cut my long hair before and is awesome.  I was nervous, of course, as my hair has been a crutch I’ve been holding onto.  But she gave me the greatest cut and I feel a million times lighter. I feel free from the “hair.” Does anyone know what I’m talking about?

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What did I think? That holding onto my long hair was going to make me feel younger?  Silly Mommy. I can’t even remember what I thought the payoff was for “the hair.”    Truth be told, I feel better now without the weight of the mane on my head.  I feel pretty and spunky.  I love it.  This makes me wonder….what other myths are out there for me to dispel? What other Mom things have I been avoiding for ridiculous reasons?  The reality is, that no one cares if I cut my hair….except me.  So why not do what makes sense for ME? I don’t think, however, I’ll ever venture into truly short short hair as I don’t think it would suit my face at all.  But again, never say never.

I think I was able to give up this crutch because everyday as a Mom I am learning more and more about what is truly vital in this a crazy life we live.  Yes, how you present yourself to the world is important.  It’s just not ALL Important.  So if I go out without make up or my hair quaffed…who cares? Nobody but me.  So when I do it, I do it for me.  It’s about time, huh?

Here’s to you! Hell, here’s to US! And thanks for reading.  Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every greasy kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up.  Xo