Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

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?

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

Hands In The Dirt Head In The Clouds

What is it about putting your hands in the soil that is so therapeutic? The smell of the soil. The tugging of the weeds. It is mesmerizing to me, much to my surprise. I find myself out in the gardens of our new home, several times a day. It seems the weeding is never done. There is always mulch to spread and new perennials popping up. I’ve even started composting! The grounds are like a big mystery to me. An exciting gratifying mystery.

When we bought this house, I fell in love with the gardens. But I was also terrified of them. Up till now, I pretty much killed everything I ever tried to grow. I have hope for these gardens, though, because they were planted by someone else. Someone who had more than a clue about what they were doing. We had glorious mature perennials popping up through out the spring and summer….and I’m already seeing things coming up for autumn. It’s wonderful. My hope is that I don’t wreck it all. I am committed to at least trying to keep it beautiful.

Anyway, I digress. I was saying it was therapeutic. At least for me it is. I am fully aware it is a form of escape for me. More like a form of meditation. I take all my stress and leave it for later. I don’t know if I would go as far to say it absolves my stress…but I certainly don’t feel stressed when I’m in the garden. That’s probably why I go out to work in it so often! I engulf myself in performing a specific simple task. And I feel totally calm. Very Buddha, if you will. 🙂

Let me be clear. I don’t have stress because I’m a Mother. I have stress because I’m a person. O does not give me stress. Taking care of him everyday does not give me stress. It’s exactly where I want to be. It brings me intense joy. My stress is about life stuff. I have a darling mother who’s dark dark depression and inability to “live” her life brings sadness to me everyday. I have two wonderful parents who’s marriage is so broken but neither have a clue how to fix it. It weighs on me. Senseless gun violence, hate crimes, bigotry, health issues…they can stress you out. And Donald Trump. He’s a huge source of my stress these days. Will I have to move to a different country if he is (God Forbid) elected president? But I have to tell you, when I am in the garden…I don’t think about any of that.

I take O out with me most days for a bit of sunshine and exploration. He loves it! He is intrigued by the flowers and plants. And rocks! What is it with little boys and rocks? I let him wander within my eye’s peripheral. He is learning to separate and find distance from me with the safety net of seeing me across the yard. When he starts to get a little too far, I call him back and he toddles closer. It’s pretty awesome. It is exactly as I had imagined it in my mind’s eye….only better. It is our little Nirvana.

Maybe it isn’t for everyone. I would have never imagined it was for me. I sooo didn’t see this coming. My idea of escape used to be a trip to TJ Maxx for a little bargain retail therapy. Maybe I got into this because it absolutely HAS to be done and calling a gardener isn’t on the table right now…?? I don’t know. All I know is that I am loving it. Getting dirty and all.

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

Bumpy Times Ahead

I watch O on the baby video monitor. It’s past 7:30am, but on cloudy rainy days he sleeps a little longer. He is stirring, but taking his time to wake up. I’m enjoying my coffee. In peace. Listening to a bird chirp outside the front window. I am contemplating the day. What do I introduce to him today? Will he nap long? Will it be a difficult day like yesterday? He is getting his back molars in, so the teething and drool situation is out of control and kind of throwing me. He is all out of sorts. Or is it just him getting older? Becoming coming more of a true toddler? Yikes. I’m not ready for that.

He is willful. I’ve known this about him since before his birth. I could tell in my tummy. And how true it turned out to be. And it seems that so far, he is wicked smart. What a combination. I am glad he is willful. It will be a good trait later on. I want him to be a strong individual. It’s just that now….it’s going to pose some challenges for us. Add Mommy’s flair for the dramatic and Daddy’s hot temper…..and I foresee bumpy times ahead! But then, there is always wine to soothe the day’s events, right? Is there enough wine? (Is there EVER enough wine?).

Yesterday O was playing with this grabber thing we have in the kitchen. He loves it. I call him King Triton when he carries it around. He was getting frustrated because he was trying to move it in a space that was too small to move it freely in. He started to whine and fuss. Then growl and grunt. I interjected with a “Calm down, O.” He looked at me, threw the grabber down and screamed a scream I had not ever heard from him. A primal scream followed by tears of frustration and more screaming. He had gone from 0-60 in a matter of seconds. He was officially melting down. Toddler style. I was a bit stunned, however foolish that sounds. He hasn’t been like this. He’s been pretty easy (for a baby.). Needless to say, nap time followed. Yes, his being tired and teething was a factor in this outburst, but this was a force within him I had yet to experience.

He is young for this, isn’t he? Don’t they say “Terrible TWOS?” He is just 14 months old! Is this yet another stage he will hit early? Oye. So what do we do? React? Not react? I can’t see how yelling at him would help. But coddling him after undesirable behavior doesn’t seem good either. Up till now, we have tried to redirect his attention when he starts going into behavior we aren’t crazy about. It used to work like a charm. Now, not so much.

I truly thank God that I am an older Mom as I begin to navigate this part of raising our child. I have WAY more patience than I ever would have had in my younger days. I understand that I don’t have all the answers. However, many of the answers are somewhere etched in my mind after watching the do’s and don’ts of the child rearing of my nieces and nephews. I have watched my sister-in-law, Sarah, raise three children with the consistency and patience of a saint. I often refer to my memories of watching her parent when I look for answers. When she said “If you don’t stop that behavior, we are leaving.” She meant it. If the behavior persisted, they were gone. I get it. You can’t say anything thing you aren’t prepared to make good on. I recall, “Please and Thank You are the magic words.” The tune she used to sing it to is stuck in my head, all ready to use on O. I remember her making her children look her in the eye when she was reprimanding them. It sticks more. I found myself doing it yesterday when O kept trying to take an outlet cover off after dinner. Well, today my sister-in-law has remarkable teenagers who are smart, funny, respectful and kind. She is my role model for parenting. There are more, for sure. But I am grateful I have had a lot of time to watch others, especially her.

So what to do? I find myself taking deep breathes. I try to understand the child. I try not to let his frustration become mine. I know we need to teach him what calm is despite his genetics….no easy task. But essential. I recall O’s pediatrician telling me, “He is your whole world. You just don’t want him know that.” How true, how true. Imagine adding narcissist to the list? Not on my watch! So yes, bumpy times ahead. But good times, as well, I have no doubt.

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

Subtle Summer

It dawned on me the other day that it was almost August! Where is the summer going? I realized that I had yet to do anything “summery.” The days were marching on and I was not participating in the standard joys of the season. Who am I? Oh wait, I’m a mother of a one year old.

Our days have been consumed with our crazy move and making this new house our home. It’s all coming along, but far from finished. But if we don’t take some time to enjoy this beautiful summer it will be gone before we know it. I feel like I should rush out to play some mini golf or get some ice cream at a seasonal creamery. Or go to the beach. Or go sailing. But O is only one. He doesn’t do ice cream yet or mini golf. The beach is daunting on my own with the little guy not to mention the summer sun would fry his milky white skin. He’s napping twice a day lately so the window of time I get out of the house is small….And we don’t own a sailboat.

Past summers have been spent in the sunflower fields of Tuscany and on exotic Greek Island Beaches. I would get excited for the summer sales at Gucci in Rome and for walking through the Bazaar in Istanbul. I’d spend my days that happened to be stateside on a beach, reading, working out and getting far too tan for the likes of my fair skin. I’ve had all the glamour, excitement and travel a person should be allowed. My husband asked me the other day if I missed my old life. 🙂 Without pause, I said, “No.” And that’s the Gods honest truth. It’s not that it wasn’t great….it was. But this is just so much better. And I really believe you just don’t “get it” till it happens to you. Till your ready for it.

I find myself opening all the windows in our new home, feeling the warm breeze and listening to all the sounds of summer. I watch O practice his walking like an Olympic athlete. This kid is tenacious! I watch the clouds from the skylight in our beautiful great room. Light pouring in. It’s heavenly. It is my summer this year. And I realize, that it’s all right with me. Next year, O will be older and more ready for the beach. He will get excited for an ice cream cone and will have mastered the art of running, let alone walking. But for now, our summer is on the subtle side. A slower pace, if you like. I don’t mind it, surprisingly. But hold onto your hats, things are about to get crazy…When O wakes up from his nap we might go to the farm down the road to get some fresh vegetables and I think I’ll make my Mom’s raspberry pie. That always makes me feel like it’s summer.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight! And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is certain 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.

Broke Back Mommy

I’m fried. Completely and utterly fried. After two weeks of below par sleep, moving house, packing and unpacking, cleaning like a fiend, commuting back and forth from the new house to my mother in law’s, where we are staying while the place gets painted and re carpeted (have I mentioned she is a saint?), not to mention hauling boxes and moving furniture….this chick is done. I am officially toast. I should do a commercial for Aleve. I’ve taken enough. Please don’t mistake what I say for actually being all moved in. Far far from it. I mean I am POOPED! My brain, my body….my BACK….toast. I know you should never say never…but I NEVER want to move again. Three times in a year…I don’t recommend it. Not to mention moving into a house that needs a LOT of tender love and care.

I say all of this not just to rant and complain. Although it feels good. I am letting you in on this morsel of physical pain I am experiencing so you might understand why I have nothing of any worth to say this week. Nothing. Forming a coherent sentence is a challenge. I can’t even see straight these days. I’ve been wearing my glasses, as I truly think my eyesight has deteriorated in just a matter of days from exhaustion. Can eyeballs hurt?

When I mentioned to my husband that it was Thursday and I didn’t have a post…..he said, “Well, you better get crackin.” I have many responses to that. A saccharin “Yes, Dear” was not one of them. But i knew he was right, damn it…..so I sat down and wrote this letter to you. If you are a faithful reader, I apologize. If you are new to my tales, insights and observations, I’ll say, “Tune in next week.” This Mommy needs a heating pad, 4 Aleve, and a Cabernet chaser. Every Mom needs a break every once in a while….if not more. My Mother in Law says, “This Too Shall Pass.” I am sure it will….. As does all pain. Oh poor me. We all should have such problems. Trust me, the pity party will be over next week. And that’s it. That’s all I’ve got. When you’ve exhausted yourself, take a break. Words to live by.

Until then, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a Mom who is sure she is messing it up!

Rainbows And Reality

I did not set out to write a controversial blog. In fact, if more people thought like me, it wouldn’t be. 🙂 I am still trying to figure out why everyone doesn’t share all my thoughts and opinions. Lol. But, seriously, folks…..this week marked a historical time in our country’s evolution. Marriage equality for everyone! The straights, the gays, the others…everyone, free to marry their one true love. Pretty awesome, I think. Most of my circle of friends are progressive people. Lots of artists, educators and all around wonderful people. A majority of my friends are gay. Some of my nearest and dearest. For the most part, the internet was a rainbow of colors celebrating this step forward for equality. Because my circle of friends are mostly like thinkers, my Facebook feed was pretty positive stuff. On the other hand, the thing about social media is that you don’t just get the stuff you want to see…you get a lot of the stuff you wished you hadn’t. That is what happened this week.

A friend of mine, who I knew was a church going gal, posted some pretty negative stuff regarding same sex marriage. I’m saddened by this, because I don’t know that I can be friends with her after reading her opinions. Before social media let you post your opinions for the world to see, I didn’t know she had such disdainful feelings towards some of my dearest friends, dare I say family. How can I remain friends with her when I know now how she feels about the people that I love?

She went as far as to say that God “detests” homosexuality. Hmm. That’s pretty strong. Firstly, how does she know? I mean a vast majority of us speak to God…but has he ever actually spoken to her saying,” I detest the Gays!” I’m confused by this righteousness coming from a twice married woman. For the life of me, I just don’t see why anyone wants to deny another person equality? It seems so un-Christian. It’s like being on a diet and being outraged that the person next to you is eating a hamburger. It’s irrational. At least in my opinion.

What I know for sure is that I want my child to grow up in a world where no matter what his sexual orientation is, he will be treated fairly. No matter what the color of his skin is, he will be treated without prejudice. If he decides he feels more comfortable in women’s clothes or he wants to be called Olivia, I want society to treat him with dignity and respect. I know, I know….life isn’t fair. But the laws that govern our land should be. At the very least.

I keep discovering things about myself as I continue on this journey of being a mother, especially at my advanced maternal age. One, is that I am stronger than I ever knew I was. Another is, I have no tolerance for people’s ridiculous hate. Life is just too too short. And I don’t have time to have my nose in anyone else’s garden if I want to tend to my own precious one. Most importantly, my priority is my beautiful family. If anyone threatened my son’s right to equality, I would no doubt get all Mama Bear on them. It is with that same ferocity I feel I must sever this friendship. I don’t say this lightly. I mean her no malice and I wish her well in all that is to come for her and her family. Yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion. But you don’t get to be my friend when your moral compass is so drastically opposing to what I believe in my heart to be right. Perhaps it is a failing in my character that I can’t overlook such things. I don’t know. What is clear to me is that when there is intolerance and hate, everyone loses.

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

From Gucci To Gerber

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

Day to Day Survival