The Best Part of My Day

As a full time Stay At Home Mom, my days are on a crazy schedule. Add to it the fact that we are moving house, and it is truly chaotic. I have all I can do to stay up till 9pm these days. O goes down at 8pm and, I swear, the bed starts calling my name….”Mary…..Sleeeeep…Sleeeep!” If I decide to live on the edge and stay up till 9:30 or (Oh My God! ) 10 o’clock, I pay for it dearly with a tired crabby attitude the next day. You would think that the best part of my day would be hitting the pillow. But I have to tell you, although it is always welcome, it is not the BEST part of my day.

The BEST part of my day is when I give O his bottle. My husband has dibs on the bedtime feeding for now, so I do either crazy early in the morning when I wake out of my coveted slumber….or before his nap time. I sit in the rocker in his room and he lays across my lap. I stroke his hair. Sometimes his little hand holds my finger. We look deep into each other’s eyes. He lets me know he loves me. And I let him know his love is safe with me and whole heartedly requited. It is fifteen minutes that feel as if time stands still. Where my little baby boy communes with me. Where we connect on a level so instinctual, yet so profound, it knocks my socks off. I don’t care if I get woken up out of a sound sleep. I don’t care if I have a “to do” list that is fifty feet long. I have never known such pure uncomplicated love. And it’s in those 15 minutes (or so) that I savor every part of this incredible gift.

The great thing about this time for me, is that I can’t do anything else while I’m feeding him. Well, I guess I could. I could check my email. I could text on my phone. I could surf Pinterest. I could watch TV. But WHY would I ever do that and MISS this amazing time??? I’d have to be coo coo for cocoa puffs to gip myself out of this slice of heaven. I suppose I CHOOSE to do nothing else whist feeding him. I just can’t imagine any other way. How would I sing him his favorite songs? How would I catch the look in his eyes that lets me know I’m his world (right now)? Nope, I’m gonna take in all this bliss before it’s gone. And let me tell you, it will be gone and before I know it. He is already getting less bottles, which means less sweet time for him and I. I can already see my husband and I duking it out over who gets to give O his bedtime bottle, when that is the last bottle feeding remaining. I’m not sure how that’s gonna go. We will have some major negotiations for sure!

Its funny, I worried so much about not being able to breastfeed my little O. I beat myself up over it and obsessed that I wasn’t going to bond the same way because we wouldn’t have that special closeness. Well, one year into this motherhood thing and I’m a lot wiser for wear. I can tell you with all certainty, my little O couldn’t be any more attached to me. Our bond is true and unbreakable. The time and attention I have given him and the love he has come to know and rely on, is the basis for that bond. I don’t believe it has anything to do with a nipple. Oh, I’m sure there are thousands of women who would disagree. Trust me, if I had been able to breastfeed successfully, I’d still be doing it. Nutrition wise, I believe it to be the best thing for a baby. But I don’t believe my not being able to nurse my son hindered our bond in any way. I wish I would have known that last year. I would have been a lot easier on myself.

These moments…..these “best parts of the day” are the joys we find in the mundane. They are the example of power in simplicity. They are proof that something so small, and so routine can bring such profound happiness. What’s the best part of your day? I would wager to say it’s something simple. Something simply wonderful.

Feeding Time Confessions of an Overwrought SAHM

I really do love lists. To do lists. Grocery lists. You name it LISTS! It’s a type A person’s daydream. Oddly, I have never written a list as a post for my blog. But the other evening I was finishing up feeding little O in his high chair and I found myself picking up the dropped macaroni from his seat and putting them in my mouth. I was eating the discarded droppings from my sons tray. Was this a new low? How had I come to this? Rather than go four feet to the trash bin, I used my mouth as a human garbage can to avoid getting up and throwing it away. I was beyond tired. I was overwrought. It was then I knew I had a list I had to share. The following admissions are not for the squeamish or easily grossed out. You have been warned. Sometimes motherhood is just a dirty job.

10 Feeding Time Confessions Of An Overwrought Stay At Home Mom:

1. I eat the puffs that fall on the floor from O’s highchair. Yup. I do. P.S. Puffs taste like nothing, but they seem like crack to Little O.

2. If I’m not hungry, I sometimes pick up a puff from the floor and put it right back on O’s tray for his consumption. Is that the five second rule? Or is it three seconds? Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem to mind.

3. I eat the food that falls out of O’s mouth. Yes, I use a wet wipe, but occasionally, I use my finger to get that glob of mashed up sweet potatoes and carrot purée off of his face. It occasionally goes in my mouth. Delicioso!

4. I often (more often than not) accompany O’s dinner feeding with a glass of wine for myself. I prefer a nice Cabernet with most puréed delicacies.

5. I have ever worn the shirt I wore to bed the whole next day. If my sleeves have baby food on them, I just roll them up. Classy.

6. If we have potato chips in the house, I will eat them in a mindless trance if O cries because he was just put down for a nap. Its an SCM (snacking coping mechanism.). I try NOT to keep such trigger snacks in the house.

7. I feel guilty between 10-20 times a day for feeling like I’m not doing enough for my LO.

8. I often have pee on my clothes and spit up in my hair. Yes indeedy! I have a friend who says, “you are always so put together!” It’s all smoke and mirrors, folks.

9. I sometimes cry because I am so tired.

10. I often cry because I am so happy.

A Little Help From My Friends

There are hundreds of topics to be written about. Endless opportunities for conversations about the journey of motherhood. Yet my mind doesn’t want to let go of a comment that came after last weeks blog. It was basically tips on how to keep my sanity/self whilst being home raising my child. I believe it was posted with the best of intentions. It was not mean or malicious. It was a comment filled with concern. Dare I say, worry. It was another mother being blatantly honest. But it left me wanting to defend my writing, my actions, my choices. And then I took a breath.

After my initial reaction of wanting to announce to the world that A, “I’m not drinking alcohol during the day with my 11 month old!!!” And B, “Sometimes I add dark humor to my writing to make it more entertaining because I think it’s funny!!” I sat back and realized this woman was not only compassionate, but she was right. A woman I don’t know, who reads my blog, was sending me a huge hug over the internet. She was sending me support. It was everything I say is missing in our modern day Motherhood Madness. And my initial reaction was defense. Silly me.

Now I stand by the notion that every one of our journeys is, indeed, our own. That all our circumstances are individual. That every child is unique and brings different circumstances and challenges to the table. But we must remember, there is a big difference between bashing and constructive criticism. What is the idea? It takes a village? Well, when did that just become a catch phrase and not an actual thing we engage in?

I remember growing up in the 70’s and 80’s. Neighborhood parents would actually parent. And ones who didn’t or who weren’t right there, had no issues with other parents jumping in. It was more of a collective effort. In today’s world if you correct another person’s child, or admonish them for bad behavior, you likely have a disgruntled parent telling you to mind your own business. Yet, a common theme among Moms is the feeling of isolation. But when someone offers help, we get defensive. As if someone thinks we aren’t capable. That we aren’t doing enough. But the truth of the matter is, in many cases, it is our own self criticism that makes us defensive. I know in my case it was.

Shouldn’t we be grateful someone else is watching out for our children? Watching out for our well being, as a mother? It’s complete b.s. when people say “I don’t want to get involved.” Or “It’s not my business.” We are a culture of peeping toms watching everyone’s business on Facebook, YouTube, and every other form of social media. But we do it in the privacy of our home, or on our cel phones. It lets us peer in, and often judge from a distance. But let’s own the fact that we are interested, even (oh my gosh!) involved. How often do you read a post or share a story on Facebook that touches you for real? That makes you feel something? For real? That’s involvement. Scary that today’s “involvement” can be so removed.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank this Mom. For actually caring. For trying to share some tools to help me succeed. After all, I did ask for help! Why was I so surprised someone would actually offer it? I will keep her advice. And be grateful. It was not only helpful to me, but a ray of light in these dark times of the Mommy Wars. There is hope that this era of judgement may someday become a thing of the past. There is hope that the “village” will actually lend you a hand on this journey, and not just Tweet about you from afar.

Until next time, I’m gonna keep on keepin on…and lighten up on myself a bit. Cause I have to be there for O…happy, fit, and rested. A friend gave me that piece of advice. 🙂

Crash Test Mommy

I don’t know how it happens. It’s like I go from 0 to 60 in a matter of moments. Everything is going fine, I’m handling the day with O. I should say, enjoying the day with O. Ok, I didn’t sleep great the past couple of nights, but I’m tough. Then I navigate family stuff i.e. dysfunction, over the phone while I’m trying to get some exercise by taking a walk. Then, I make baby food while I figure out what we will have for dinner. Then I field emails and calls to make our crazy (at the moment) life actually function. Add laundry, keeping our house show ready for prospective buyers, throw in a trip to the post office, a stop at the grocery store and a diaper run for fun. Then O decides not to take a nap, but rather stand in his crib crying until Mommy comes in to save him. And every whine and whimper sends my head spinning further and further into a place I don’t know how to return from sometimes.

By the time my husband gets home, I’m feeding the overtired wonder boy in his high chair, while he wears some of his meal, as he has now taken to swatting the spoon away and then crying because there is no food in his mouth. Of course, I have a large glass of wine beside me. I swear, O will be a toddler able to open a bottle of wine like a professional sommelier and make a killer dirty martini to rival Dean Martin. He’s seen it done enough. I look like I’ve been through a prison camp. A camp where they dress you in yoga pants and make you wear your hair in a ponytail everyday. My husband asks me if I’m ok? He is truly concerned. He takes over feeding our child. And all I feel is guilt. Like I have somehow lost the battle of the day.

I then don’t know how to come back? Has that ever happened to any of you? It’s like I don’t know how to wipe the day away and start over. The guilt of getting frustrated or of wasting the gift of the day stays with me. I can’t imagine how my husband could love me. I’m so so far away from what he signed up for. And it seems I can’t handle even the simplest task. I can’t even keep it together as I write this. Thankfully, I know this too shall pass and I will recover and become “me” again. But in the midst of the whirlwind I seem unrecognizable, even to myself.

When I was dealing with postpartum baby blues, I’d often have the “drive away” fantasy. I didn’t know how many women had this fantasy until I started reading other women’s blogs. I’d see myself getting into my Kia and just driving away. To nowhere. Just to breathe. Just to feel the wind on my face. I didn’t know how far I’d go… I always planned on coming back, but in my mind it was the perfect escape. Now my escape fantasy involves a bath and a nice hotel room. I fantasize about sleep like it is some elusive unattainable thing. When I start fantasizing more frequently, I know I am approaching my breaking point. I am getting close to crashing into the wall.

I am not a super woman. I am just a woman. I’m trying. Everyday I try. That counts, right? My number one concern is that I do right by O. That I give him everything I can, everyday. That I teach him what I know and more, to make him a decent kind loving person. But inevitably, there are days when you are at the end of your rope, and you wind up teaching him something negative. A curse word you said out of frustration (it only has to happen once) …or how to make a killer dirty martini. How can you be the perfect mom at every moment?? If you have the answer, let me know. Until then, I’ll be putting one foot in front of the other. Occasionally, I’ll take a step backwards…because I’m only human.

Moving Mommy

I am officially certifiable. My husband and I are moving house, again. Good Lord, give me strength. It’s bad enough that we moved from Florida to New England when O was only 3 months old. I truly don’t know how we did it. I think I must have been on auto pilot. Like some sort of new mommy zombie. It’s the only way I could have gotten through it. We kept our Florida house furnished, so we didn’t pack up every last morsel. It was tough enough packing up all our personal things with a newborn infant. But this move will require us to move EVERYTHING…all with a 12 month old, who is crawling and cruising like a demon and getting into anything and everything that isn’t safety sealed shut. Like I said, Good Lord, give me strength!

Of course, it will most likely NOT be an easy, care free transition. You see, we haven’t found the house we want to move into yet. (Nervous smile). So we could very well be packing this home up into a storage facility until the right house comes along. Eek. Live out of a suitcase much? Good thing I have lots of experience with that from touring. My biggest concern, however, is not how I will handle it, but how O will adapt. When he was 3 months old he was completely adaptable. I knew he would have no recollection of it. The several transitions he made were easy peesey. But will it be that way this time? I mean, he won’t remember it, but will it affect him adversely?

If things don’t go swimmingly, as they most never do with real estate…then we may be moving in with my Mother-in-law until we secure and close on a new residence. Thank goodness I adore her! I can only hope she will still love me after this possible cohabitation. To say we are grateful for her is a great understatement. A huge positive will be O getting to spend more time with her. You know how I feel about grandparents! I’m a big advocate for Grammy time. See, I’m trying to focus on the positive side if things.

I’m certainly not dreading any part of this journey. I guess it’s just that I just want to be settled. Once and for all. I went from leaving my “in and out of town” career to be settled for what turned out to be a hot second…to move up to New England to stay with my MIL until our house was available, to be in our house for another hot second, to now be packing it up for some unknown abode. I feel like I’ve been on the move since forever. It’s just time to slow down and get settled. Time to nest. My soul feels it. Hell, my bones feel it. I not only want to plant roots in the home that O will grow up in…I want to plant a garden and be around to watch it grow. I want to plant perennials and see them pop up next spring and the next 10 springs to come. It’s something THAT simple. I’m ready for simple.

It’s not like this move is news to me. It’s all part of our plan. We actually want to move. But the reality of it is just starting to set in for this Mommy, and it’s a tad daunting. So if any of you Moms have any advice to make the whole undertaking easier…fire away! I am in need of some serious input. I figure I’ll need a secure place for O to play. So far, O doesn’t seem to mind being in his pack and play. He actually seems to like it. If I put a few toys/activities in there, he is usually quite content to amuse himself while I get dinner ready or go to use the bathroom. But packing up a house? Eek! That’s a little more time consuming. And a pack and play isn’t a very big space for him to move around in. I guess I will rely on his nap times? And after his bedtime? Woof! This is gonna be one crabby tired Mama. I guess it will all just happen, as everything does. One day at a time. One box at a time. One foot in front of the other….all while keeping a routine that O can count on. Did I say “Give me strength?” Oh, that was the third time? Well, third time’s a charm. Wish me luck, Ladies.

Until next time, keep on keepin on. And remember, behind every great kid, is a mom who is sure she is messing it up! 🙂 Like me! Like 20-30 times a day! 🙂

Car Seat Cry Baby

I feel ridiculous. It’s silly to even write about. But it’s been the big change that’s been haunting me all week. O has graduated from his infant car seat to his big boy car seat. The car seat that will stay with him until he doesn’t need one anymore. (Boy, THAT day isn’t gonna be pretty for this Mama.) I feel idiotic for telling you, but I cried the day we switched his car seat. I literally shed tears. What the Hell?

Why can’t I be like the Moms who celebrate these milestones with a saucy “thank God!” and move on. It just seems like it’s all going by in a flash. Like he is growing with reckless abandon. And there is nothing I can do to stop it. So I’m emotional. That’s not a stretch for me, as anyone who knows me can attest. But I’m more so now. How will I navigate all the changes and milestones to come?

I recognize that I am not only sad about this recent event, but I am fighting it every step of the way. I found myself saying today, “It’s just so hard now. I hate going out!” Let me tell you since O was about three weeks old, I have taken him out, one place or another, almost every single day. It’s rare that we don’t have some adventure to go on each day. But I have been spoiled. I had a Graco Click and Connect Travel System. I’d get him set in his car seat in the house..carry it out to the car, click him in and we were off. When we got to wherever we were going, I’d take the car seat out and click it into the super easy stroller frame. I had it down to a science. And O liked it. We had our rhythm. Now, I have to carry him out to the car….get him into his seat whilst bent over into the car (not easy)…and when I arrive wherever the hell it is I thought it was a good idea to go to, I have two choices. I either get the very light, but yet ridiculously cumbersome, umbrella stroller (which is a ludicrous name, because when it rains, it will NOT keep baby, or you, dry. In fact, quite the opposite). Or I get my jogger stroller…which weighs 30 lbs. So I hoist one of these contraptions out of the car and then hoist my 27lb baby boy out of the car seat, in a hunched over manner, so as not to hit my head or the baby’s head on the car. I try to remember not to lift with my back. I try to remember to use my abdominal muscles…yeah, right. All while O is not, I repeat, NOT loving this new routine. Then I have to strap him into the stroller, hang the diaper bag on the handles…..and get inside wherever it is I was dumb enough to venture off to in the first place. If there are multiple stops, I’d like to shoot myself. If there is rain involved I think I will just stay home.

Everyone says it will get easier when he can get in and out himself. Well, that’s a long time away, I think. I am blessed with a beautiful boy, but he is a big boy for his age. He became too long for the infant seat over a month ago. I started to feel like some Good Samaritan Mommy was going to report me for having my son in a seat he was clearly outgrowing. And because he is young…I miss seeing him when we are strolling along. And I swear, he doesn’t like it. He might wonder “Where is Mommy?” as he faces forward in this strange new world. Right? Or is it just me, fighting it every step of the way? I could have sworn today that he was feeling scared and alone as he faced forward, rolling along….but he actually had a very wet diaper. A wet diaper that I was out of tune with, because I was so convinced he was unhappy to be facing forward. Because this Mommy was unhappy her baby was facing forward. Unhappy that her baby was gaining independence. That he was, indeed, moving on. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.

I’m going to brood about this some more, I fear. They say that time goes by quicker as you get older. Have you heard that? I think it’s true. But I think when you are older you cherish the time more. I know that when I was younger I took time for granted. Not the case now. I am SO aware that this time with O is flying by. If one more well meaning, but yet unsoliciated, granny tells me, “It goes by so fast,” I’ll scream….”I KNOW!!! STOP REMINDING ME!!” Like right in her face! And really loud! It also doesn’t help that this all coincides with that time of the month for me. When it rains it pours! Just don’t use the umbrella stroller that day.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight…and I’ll try to get a hold of myself. Remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is certain she is screwing it up. 🙂

Motherhood and Mortality

Not all that long ago, I used to tell my husband, I thought I would die on the young side of old. The notion never ever bothered me. I can actually say I was really ok with it. I have always been a big believer of things happening for a reason. I guess it was just a silly gut feeling I had and I was at peace with it. Then something happened….I had my son.

To say I feel differently now is an understatement. And the reasons are layered and complex. I am sometimes hit with the fear of “Oh my God! What if something happens to me and O is left alone?” Well, it’s already ridiculous, because he would not be alone. He would have my husband. His father. The person on this earth who loves him as fiercely as I do. But every child needs his Mother, right? Or is it the other way around? Now that I have him…now that I have tasted this kind of love…I don’t think I could live without it. I need him as completely as he needs me. Maybe more so.

The completely irrational and borderline crazy mourning of my own inevitable passing I experience at times, is about MY missing out. I don’t want to miss a single second of this brilliant journey. Being an older Mom just emphasizes the fear. I don’t need to be sidled with an untimely death. Just dying in the normal course of life will leave me missing a chunk of O’s journey. If he waits to have children like I did, I’ll be 84 if I am lucky enough to meet my newborn grandchildren. Certainly too old to watch them grow up. It’s depressing really. Geez. Right now my husband is rolling his eyes. He wasn’t thrilled with this week’s topic of choice. He likes it when I write about rainbows and unicorns. Lol.

The other night, I started to get worked up over it all. I completely freaked my husband out. I had just read an article that stated 1 out of 2 women and 1 out of 3 men will get cancer. Most survive, but no one lives forever. I started to feel consumed by a loss that didn’t even happen yet? A loss that, most likely, would not happen for a very long time. And when that time does come, and my number is up, so to speak, I won’t experience the loss, cause I’m the one who will be gone. But I guess that really depends on your beliefs on the afterlife. I’m completely certifiable. See how your thoughts can snowball? It’s complex, right?

After researching some other articles, I realize that I’m not alone in these thoughts. In fact, I’m on the sane side of “cray cray.” I read a post by a women who was encouraging parents to document their lives (video, photos, etc.) for their children to have when they are gone…”before it is too late”….(Geez). It is called intentional memory making. There is even an app for it! I mean, I get it. When my husband’s father passed away, he had heaps of recordings of his father singing. It helped him grieve. And even now, almost four years later, it helps him feel closer to his dad. But his father was a professional singer/songwriter. These memories were made by his father simply living his life doing what he loved. It’s a bit different than intentionally documenting everything. I take my fair share of photos, I do. And it is fun to go back and reminisce, but I don’t know. I don’t want to judge what others want to do. So..what do I do?

Well, I can’t change the fact that I am, indeed, an older mom. I can try to keep myself healthy, but even that is no guarantee. In fact, that’s exactly it…..we have no guarantees of the time we have here. No telling when our time is up. So acceptance seems paramount. Acceptance and gratitude. Gratitude for all we are experiencing in the NOW. I can try not to waste days, but I’m sure there will be a few days, at least, lost to complaining, or stress, or both. I’m only human. But I don’t want to spend moments constantly behind a camera lens…hovering on the outside of our experiences for the sake of documenting them. Nor do I want to feel every moment has the cloud of mourning hanging over it…even if it is hanging somewhere in the back of our mind, it’s still there, stealing from our NOW. Our perfect NOW.

As with everything, balance is key. So I’ll mix my neurosis with some healthy belly laughing and get on with this awesome second act of my life. (Did I mention my life is a play in Three Acts?) I guess when it’s all said and done, I can say I have tasted pure true love. I have experienced real joy. I feel like I know what heaven truly is. And maybe I’ll find an old shoe box and occasionally put some photos in it and write some love letters to the sweetest boy I’ll ever know, my little O.

Until next time, keep on keeping on…and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is certain she is screwing it up!

When I’m 64

You know the Beatles’ song…..”Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?” It’s catchy, right? The melody is relentless in my head. So I thought, hmm….when I’m sixty-four? When I’m 64!! Shit, that isn’t so far away really. I started to do the math, as I always do. My, now 10 month old, little O will be 19 years old. In college most likely. A young man, starting his journey to adulthood. My husband will be a mere 52. A man in his prime. And I will be…..a year away from retirement…a fledgling member of the AARP. Oh God. There is that pit in my stomach. The reality of being an older Mom hits me every once in a while. Hits me hard. It hits extra hard when your husband is 11 years your junior, let me tell ya. Bless him, he always says, “I just don’t think about age, babe.” Well thank God for that. I guess if he did, we wouldn’t be together. Ha, I remember an older man I dated (11 years my senior) who actually told me if I was any older, we couldn’t be together. Lol. The audacity of the old guy! Bet he’s making some lucky girl very happy! (Insert sarcasm liberally).

It’s not like I think about it everyday. I truly don’t. I don’t really have time to. I guess in a way, having a baby later in life keeps you younger for a bit longer. It’s just those “every once in a while” times…Randomly catching myself in a mirror and wondering “who is that old lady?” Or the occasional comment from the thoughtless person. When I was pregnant, the girl who used to cut my hair when I lived in Florida, made a comment about how her daughter (who was 7) was so happy she had a young mom and not a mom who people thought was a grandmother. She then added that her daughter had a friend who’s mom was old, “like 50!!” It was clear she had no idea how old I was. I then told her I would be 52 when O turns 7…. She felt like an idiot. I’m kinda glad she did. Because you really DON’T think of it til some young ditz reminds you. And then you wonder, does every younger person think this way? When I show up at a PTA meeting, will the other Moms look at me the way teenagers look at their parents? Will their children ask me if I am O’s grandmother? At O’s graduation will people wonder if I am my husband’s mother? Ok, that might be pushing it a little. But, if that’s not incentive for Botox, I don’t know what is! Unfortunately, injecting botulism into my face is grounds for divorce according to my beloved. But when I’m 64 will he have wished I had?

I could make myself crazy over it. (Crazier than I already am). But what’s the point? Thankfully I am in a marriage where aesthetics are the mere icing on the cake of things that truly matter. There is no antidote for aging. And there is no turning back time. So there remains only one option for the older Mom like me. Grace. I can age with grace. I can be the wise Mom that other women look to. I can be an example of how to age, but not necessarily grow old. It’s funny (ironic, not ha ha), but my inside self really has no age. I suppose I should just keep doing what I’ve always done…just more elegantly…and maybe with a fabulous hat? Again, I go too far.

Now I didn’t enter into this motherhood thing as gracefully as I would have liked, but this aging thing is a slower process. I have a little time to get it right, hopefully. I’d like to raise O not to be an ageist. I’d like him to value a person based on more than a pretty face and a hot body….I can be the example of how it all eventually goes south…lol. But seriously, we get so much more out of life when we look beyond obvious beauty. As I think of it, I don’t think I’d trade this older Mom thing. Because I know more now. Valuable things I can pass on to my little guy. Personally speaking, I honestly think it makes me a better mom. And when I’m 64, I think it still will.

Until next time, keep up the good fight (and keep moisturizing! Lol.) And remember, behind every great kid, is a mom who is sure she is messing it up. 🙂

Mother In Law MUSTS

So often I read about women who detest their mothers in law. I don’t even know where to begin with my objection to this. Now I guess I lucked out in the mother in law department. My husband’s mother is amazing. A true angel. A wonderful grandmother and a really great lady. I truly enjoy her company. So I guess it makes my choice to like/love her easy. Yes, I say choice. Because we can choose how we decide to feel about a person. But if I didn’t happen to adore my mother in law? Then what?

Well, let’s see. # 1. I would NOT write negatively about her on Facebook. Come on ladies! Do you think your very candid public vent is somehow going to help your relationship with your MIL? You might as well pour gasoline on a burning fire. Did that sarcastic jab make you feel better after you pushed “post?” Was the three seconds of satisfaction worth the fall out? The only thing this very rash and impulsive move will accomplish, is hurting your MIL, and also your husband.

And that leads me to #2. I would try everything I could to make the MIL relationship a good one for my husband’s sake. How do you think your strained relationship makes your husband feel? Why add that stress to your husband’s plate? Have the foresight to see that it will only add stress to your relationship with your hubbie. Why do that to yourself? Unless you like to live a life steeped in drama, keep the MIL relationship civil, at the very least. I know, I know, someone out there is saying, “But you just don’t understand how she can be?” It doesn’t matter. You will never change the actions of someone else….you can only change your reaction. SO..be part of the solution…not part of the problem. You will feel better and your husband will love you all the more for it.

# 3 is perhaps the most important in my book. I would do everything I could to encourage the MIL’s relationship with my child. The relationship between a child and his grandparents is one of the most important relationships in a person’s life. A grandparent loves your child AS MUCH as you do. They want only what is best for your child. That child is a part of them…as he is a part of you. It is a beautiful bond, if you let it be. It is another person you can feel good about leaving your child with if you need to. Honestly, to watch my MIL with my O….is one of my favorite things. To see their bond forming…to see the love for him she wears so effortlessly on her face and in her heart. Why deny either one of them this bond? But especially your child? The exception would be, if there was abuse. Obviously, you wouldn’t want to put your child in harms way, ever.

Look, familial relationships are tough at times. Ifyou consider your family your friends, it seems these days, you are in the minority. Dysfunction is everywhere. But don’t fight over a child. Don’t fight in front of a child. Teach your child to cherish his family and special relationships. It is a gift you not only give to your child, but to yourself, as well. One day, I will be the mother in law. I can only hope my son chooses a partner who has learned to value family. But I already understand my part in making that relationship work. It will mean so much to my son. And that is a gift I would never deny him. 🙂

O and his Grammy..true love.

Until the next time, keep on keepin on! And remember, behind every great kid is a mother who is certain she is messing it all up! 🙂

The Mommy Bubble

This past television and movie award season was the first one I didn’t even watch. I wasn’t the least bit interested in any of it. Now as an actor, that is odd. I mean, it is something all actors look forward to. Receiving our SAG nominated films in the mail for viewing and voting on….the Oscar buzz…and finally the events themselves. The red carpet, the speeches, the wins and misses. This year, I could care less. And I don’t even care that I don’t care. This year it all seemed trivial. This year it all seemed a life time away. You see, this year I have my little O. And everything else is small potatoes.

Its not just the movies that don’t matter to me right now….it’s pretty much everything. Everything except O, my husband, and my family. I don’t know what is current in any sense, from the news to music to fashion (unless it’s baby boy wear). I don’t know what the new hot products are (unless we are talking baby gear) or who the new hot faces are selling them. It’s like I am in a bubble….a mommy bubble. It’s a real thing. I imagine the bubble will burst one day, and life will return to “normal.” But I’m kind of loving it right now. I love this little creature who has consumed my life…who is my top priority…who is our everything, right now. Does that change? Will it seem different as he gets older? Does every mother feel this way? Have I completely lost perspective?

I used to to read the paper and watch CNN. I used to watch The State of the Union address faithfully. I think I missed this one, eh? Heck, I used to read books. Lots of books. It’s all on the back burner for now. Heck, I don’t really have time to write this blog. It gets done during nap time or occasionally if I have enough steam left in me after O’s bedtime. I literally feel like I don’t have time for much of anything but O right now. His needs are big and it seems that everything I do, every choice I make, I must take his needs and his schedule into consideration. I guess that would create a bit of a bubble, eh?

I just wonder if it’s because I am older that I willingly succumb to the bubble? I feel pretty comfortable missing things. I don’t look over my shoulder and long for the past. I had a pretty rocking life so far…and like I said before, this is not peaches and cream all the time. Sometimes it’s poops and screams….but I’m not longing for anything else at this moment. I certainly don’t feel I have “my own thing” to worry about…..at least not right now. Maybe I’m fooling myself. I might wake up a few years from now and wonder what the hell have I been doing? Ah, but right now, I’m protected by the Mommy Bubble.

I notice a lot of mothers on Facebook groups and mommy bloggers, commenting and writing about fighting for their “me time” or dreams unrealized and a longing for their “own life” back. It is a huge common theme among moms. Needing the “me time” I get. A few hours a week is key to remaining psychologically healthy. It’s called taking care of yourself, in my book. Doesn’t matter what you do with that time, but preferably it isn’t laundry. Especially laundry that isn’t your own. But as far as having dreams unrealized? Or wishing for days gone by? Not me. Like I said, maybe it’s because I’m older and have done pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted to do. Gone everywhere I’ve wanted to go. (Except an African safari). The point is, that I don’t feel I’m missing something if I am in THIS moment. It lets me enjoy THIS time.

My 20’s and 30’s were spent constantly racing after something….a job, a boy, you name it. I always felt I had to have my hands in about 20 different pots to ensure I’d wind up with something. Be it, the job, the boyfriend, etc. When I turned 40, something clicked in me. The slow motion switch turned on and I realized I could actually enjoy the choices I was making. I didn’t have to run to the next one, be it job, boyfriend, etc. So this feeling of enjoying where I am at, had been steeping in me for a few years already. Now with O, he demands I live in the moment. Because with him, that’s the way it is. Babies don’t think about the future or the past….just what’s right in front of them. How smart they are!!!

If I was in my 20’s or even 30’s having O, I don’t know I would feel as I do now. In fact, I assure you, I would most likely feel like “my” life got shorted in some way. Not that I wouldn’t be completely in love with my child and feel completely blessed, as I am sure all mothers do…but I have a hunch I would be thinking about the day I might get “my” life back to do the things “I” wanted to do, but didn’t get the chance to yet. I have a friend, Bree O’Connor, who is a talented artist/writer, who wrote an essay, Over It, on her site, Born Bree. She writes about her fantasy of running away from her kids and her husband to explore the life she wanted before she ever had them. The problem with the plan was that she knew she would never be able to breathe without them. Her love for them was like oxygen. My blurb doesn’t do the ferocious, eloquent honesty justice…but you can take a read, if you click the link. I felt her passion. I sympathized with her need to scream and run. I related to her unequivocal love for her children. And I understood that had I had O when she had her children, I would, no doubt, be feeling just like her.

I understand I took a big gamble waiting to have a baby. And I am not telling women to wait to have children, necessarily. Trust me, there are a lot of things that are not so super about having a baby at the tender age of 44….Like my aching back and my growing crow’s feet, among a hundred other things. But I LOVE my mommy bubble….it’s like a little cocoon…and I’m fully aware that I have drank the Kool-Aid on this one. Knowing my younger self better than I did when I WAS my younger self, I can tell you this level of contentment would not have been possible. I was not emotionally mature enough nor was my ego ready to step aside. But now, there is really something to be said for being truly content in any moment, especially one that involves your own little miracle. At my advanced maternal age of 44, I say Bring On the Bubble! Heck, if it came with 8 hours of uninterrupted nightly sleep, I’d never leave.

From Gucci To Gerber

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

Day to Day Survival