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

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

40 Blissful Minutes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SAHM ISO BFF

SAHM ISO BFF : Stay At Home Mom In Search Of Best Friend Forever! Well, that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? But imagine if it was that easy to put it out there and meet other moms and actually become great friends!

I’ve written before about the loneliness of motherhood. I imagine it is something many stay at home moms deal with at one time or another. Living several hours away from my family (with the exception of my mother in law, thank god!) proves to make me lonelier than most, I suspect. Especially with my personality. Most people assume that because I am a performer, I am an extrovert. But that is not the case. I have a very hard time making friends. And ever since I have had O, I wonder if I am in jeopardy of losing the ones I do have due to lack of contact.

It isn’t for lack of interest in my friends. Thanks to Facebook I can at least see what they are up to. I constantly cheer them on, unbeknownst to them, nestled away in my New England haven. I smile for them. I laugh with them. I even cry for them. But we all know Facebook is not real life. The contact is “virtual.” It certainly doesn’t leave you feeling like you spent the afternoon with a good girlfriend. I remember that feeling. I would feel inspired. Invigorated. Like I could take on the world. Nothing inspires your confidence like time spent with a bestie.

These days I am in toddler world. From the moment O is awake to the moment he goes down for a nap he consumes my energy. Once he wakes up it starts again until he is down for the night. I’m not complaining. I’m not looking for sympathy. It is simply the way it is. He constantly requires my focus. If I’m not reading to him or feeding him or playing with him, my attention is on where he is and is he burning the house down? or is he sticking his tongue in a socket? Even giving him his “alone time” to explore and play on his own, takes my focus. It’s not about hovering. It’s about the fact that I can’t abandon all thoughts of him to focus on JUST me. By the time his nap time comes I just want to shut off for a bit. I use that time to take care of business, if I need to. But mostly I use it to take some down time. I use it to do something cathartic for me. I want to piddle in the garden. I want to work on my latest DIY project for the house. Whatever it is, the last thing I really want to do is talk on the phone. I mean no offense to any of my friends. Most of them are working at that time anyway. And several of them are on the West Coast, so the time difference is impossible. When I can chat, it’s either 5 am their time, or 9pm my time and I’m already in bed. Oh the glamorous life I lead!

I guess if I could say something to each wonderful friend I have it would be this: I miss you deeply and love you dearly. Although you are not in my everyday life at this point, you are warmly in my thoughts and are absolutely part of the person I am today. Though it may seem like I am a totally different person….I am not. I’m still me. I’m just a Mom now, in addition to all the other crazy hats I wear. Please don’t think because I have a child now I don’t care to be friends with you. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with you? If you are a friend of mine, I must tell you, you are a pretty special person. I don’t take that for granted. Wonderful people are not a dime a dozen. It’s just that sometimes life (or in this case, a toddler) gets in the way. Forgive me. I WILL return to the land of the liberated. It’s just gonna take a few years.

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

Sexy Mommy Happy Family

I recently shared our “project” to attempt getting pregnant again. As fun as it can be, it is also quite a commitment. It requires energy. Something that after being up since 6am, running around after a toddler since 7:30am, I am on short supply of most days. It also, I’m finding, requires effort. I’m not talking about “the act” itself. I’m talking about getting myself feeling ready for a “tumble.” I never thought I’d say this, but feeling sexy can be a challenge for me as a stay at home mom. So here are a few things I find myself doing to combat that:

I get dressed. Everyday. Sweatpants more than two days in a row is bad. Even if I’m not going out, I put on something that makes me feel good. Sweatpants don’t make anyone feel good. They make you feel comfy and cozy….but not sexy. Now yoga pants can make me feel sexy if paired with a cute lulu lemon top…but again, not worn on consequetive days. Also, not to be forgotten, I try to wear a sexy bra. NOTHING is sexy about a jog bra. NOTHING.

I take the time to put some light makeup on. This is not for my husband, who literally could care less if I ever put makeup on again. This is totally for me. Again, even if I’m not going out, it makes ME feel pretty. It’s something small that goes a long way. Being totally honest, it’s not super easy being the oldest Mom at the story time, or at the market. In some small way it helps me feel like I might avoid the “Is that your grandson?” comment. (God help me when THAT happens).

I shave my legs and underarms. I use a great shaving gel that keeps my skin nice and smooth and hydrated. Thank you Trader Joes. I am a big advocate of “au naturale” but let’s be frank, hairy legs and pits don’t scream “sexy time.” I also use lovely lotions on my limbs and a spritz of perfume. Smelling good is a huge part of being desired by my husband. I love it when he comes home, embraces me and takes a huge breath to take in my scent. Let that be a positive experience for him.

Beyond all the superficial things (which are valid), I think there are more important things involved in feeling sexy. These are things which may not be as simple to do on a daily basis. I try to challenge myself each day to do something I think I might not be able to do. Because it gives me confidence. And confidence is sexy. I try to find the humor in everything I do and in most experiences, each day. Because funny is sexy. I practice gratitude daily because happy is sexy. I am not always successful in accomplishing these things…but I try. And trying, is, yup, you bet, sexy.

I understand that these last points are the true keys to feeling and, in fact, being sexy. Maybe that is the allure of the “older woman?” Lol! Maybe it’s the amount of pheromones we ladies on the older side of young emit into the atmosphere? Who knows? Who cares? What I do know is that for me, sexy is as much a state of mind as it is anything else. You can have the perfect makeup on and the most expensive perfumes…hell, you can be wearing a piece of dental floss from Victoria’s Secret, but if you don’t “own” being sexy, well. you’re just not. I mean, really…ever have an orgasm when your head wasn’t in the game? Right. Enough said. Sexy Mommy signing off.

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

Halloween 1 Mommy 0

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sick Baby Silly Mommy

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!

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

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

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.

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!

From Gucci To Gerber

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

Day to Day Survival