Touchstones To Get You Through The Election Season


Fall is one of my favorite times of the year.  It is a season that generously boasts such bold beauty.  In New England, it is truly spectacular.  If you are like me, you might be having a hard time seeing all the positives through this ugly election season that is truly putting a damper on my autumnal affection.  I decided some touchstones were in order.  Enough of all the negativity. I voted early. It’s up to the Gods now.  Moving on!  It’s time to let in all the sunshine and make LOVE my priority.   I implore you to make your own list of things that bring you joy during this season.  The act of writing them down brought joy to my heart.  It is good to remember what brings us to life.  Everyone’s list, of course, is different, because we are all wonderfully deliciously different.  And that is a glorious thing.  Here are some of mine.


Autumn Afternoons

The sound of leaves falling outside

The smell of a fire burning in a fireplace

Hot cider

Mums in bloom


Homemade apple sauce

The colors of autumn leaves

Trick or Treat

Lighting candles around the house

Baking in the oven

Stews and soups

Butternut Squash

Pumpkin Spice Scones at Starbucks

Hikes in the woods

Sweaters and fleeces

The sweet smell of my son’s hair after playing outside

My son’s joyful laugh while he tosses leaves in the air

Cabernet by the fire

Dozing in my husband’s arms

Ollie sandwiches (that’s a 3 person hug with Ollie in the middle)

Celebrating gratitude

The brisk night air

Starry autumn nights


Sending you much love and light this season.  It’s time for a bit of peace, love and understanding.  From what I hear, Kindness is making a huge comeback.  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.  #rosecoloredglasses #polyannawannabe




It’s The Best


Like with anything in life, there are positives and negatives.  This week I want to focus on the positive. The topic: Having children over 40 and why it is the best (in my opinion).  Don’t worry, I’ll also share with you why it is a drag (in my opinion)….just not this week.  This week it’s all about how incredible it is to have a child when you are in your 40’s!

Let’s face it, if you have had a child at 35 or over, you’ve most likely heard all the terrifying warnings and reasons not to.  My first prenatal visit at age 43 was colored with all sorts of possible doom and negative what ifs.  I chose to filter out the gloom.  While I was educated about the risks, I kept the information out of my mind and body.  One of the best things about having a baby in your 40’s (in my opinion) is that you can.  So many women struggle with conception.  If you can get pregnant naturally (or with help) over 40, well, that’s something to celebrate!

All new mothers hear the polite advice from well wishers, time and time again.  My son is 2 and I still get it.  “Enjoy every minute! It goes so fast!”   Well, the main reason I think having a baby in your 40’s is the best (in my opinion), is that you actually do enjoy every minute.  Even when it’s hard, there is a baseline of joy that just can’t be beat.  There is a patience I possess that, for me, has come with age.  I’m certainly not saying that women having children in their 20’s and 30’s don’t enjoy their children.  I can only speak from my experience as a 20 and 30 something.  In my 20’s and 30’s, my life was all about me.  The pace of my life was all about me.  The choices I made were basically all about me.  And I wanted it that way.  I lived my life fully and with purposed abandon.  I travelled the world, fell in and out of love and enjoyed freedom from most responsibility.  It was how it should be for someone at that stage of their life (in my opinion).  Conversely, with the birth of my son came profound responsibility.  And at the age of 44, I welcomed it wholeheartedly.  Someone younger might think my life now is a bore.  The Veuve doesn’t flow as freely (or at all, come to think of it) and my bedtime is often before the curtain used to go up.  The things I possessed and the adoration I sought are not barometers for bliss.  My god! I thought a new pair of Gucci shoes equaled happiness.  Silly girl.  All those things are well and good, but they are not the stuff of life.

I get to do this parenting thing with a full awareness that it goes far too fast.  I don’t wish time away like I used to.   I get to be mature enough to share with my baby, my patience and my understanding of what true happiness really is.  I get to not only enjoy his process, but have the emotional maturity to understand that he is his own person, and that while he is our whole world now, we will not always be his.  I am old enough to know he will have to fail to succeed.  I understand there will come a time to let go.

Anyone who has hit the 40+ mark understands what I am saying.  I’m not saying you don’t have moments of doubt anymore or that you don’t feel like you are screwing up a lot of the time.  That is the nature of parenting in a nutshell. But there is a level of surety and confidence that I bring to my parenting, to my life, that I did not possess in my 20’s or 30’s.  It makes me a better mom.  And THAT is the best thing about having a child over 40 (in my opinion).

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


Love Letter


I imagine, like most children, my son will someday ask me what he was like when he was a baby.  Kids love hearing stories about themselves.  I think these little anecdotes give them a sense of assurance and comfort. Although I have a blog full of posts and a website designed to share the journey of mothering my little O, most posts are about me and whatever trial or tribulation I am navigating any given week.  So this post is different.  I want O to be able to read this in years to come and know exactly what he was like on a particular day he shared with his Mommy. This post is a love letter to my O.

Dear O,

Days at the beach with you are just the best.  The packing up of snacks, towels, buckets and shovels among countless other things are totally worth it.  The hike up the dune, with you in my arms, to get to our little spot of heaven can be a workout.  But again, totally worth it!  The word “beach” comes from your perfect mouth.  I put you down and you immediately run your fingers through the sand, taking it all in as quickly as you know how.  I fill up a bucket with water as you plop yourself down and begin to dig.  You are so happy.

We have your cousins with us today.  You watch Will and Chris with idolization.  Their young teenage selves splashing about in the ocean.  You take my hand and say “ocean.” You want to be where they are.  We wade in the slight surf and you squeal with delight as the water tickles your legs.  You are laughing.  Smiling.  1…2….3!!! We jump the waves with the help of Uncle Paul.  He is taken with you, too. Who wouldn’t be? You are wonderful.

Our exodus from the beach must be highly planned.  Everything must be pretty much packed up and ready to go prior to getting you rinsed off in the ocean.   Once the sand is semi off of you, there is no putting you down.  As we leave the beach you call out, “Bye Ocean!” “Bye Bye Sandbox!”  I smile, as I climb over the dune because your sweetness is noted.  I make the decision then to stop for ice cream at Handy Hill.  Ice cream is your favorite and a treat is in order.  You’ve been so good.

You are only in a diaper and your swim shirt.  No shoes.  Your sun hat still atop your head of long curls.  I take you out of the car and you know where we are.  You are excited.  I order peanut butter Oreo ice cream in a cup for us to share.  I carry you over to a picnic table and sit you down next to me.  Your little legs swinging.  Your eyes big with delightful anticipation.  With one spoonful you smack your lips.  “Dewicious!!”  you say.  We rub our noses together when I ask you for a kiss.  And I know I am the luckiest Mommy in the world.

Days like this are wonderful and abundant.  You make me laugh and fill me with moments of pure joy each and every day.  Thank you,  my sweet boy.  I tell you, “I love you.”  I ask you, “how much?”  Sweetly and softly, as if in love yourself, you say, “So much.”  I am undone.  I am forever Yours.

Love, Mommy xo


Until next time, friend, 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

DIY Sesame Street 2nd Birthday Picnic


As you know, little O turned two this week.  I keep asking myself where the time has gone, but now even I am getting tired of the question.  Move on, Mares.  Move on.  OK.  So…I figured I would save my pontification for another piece and give you a good old, DIY post.

O’s birthday party was a laborious task only a mother would undertake.  Or, as in this case, two mothers.  Yes, we shared the celebration with O’s second cousin, Nora (born 2 days later).  Number one on the suggestion list is to co-host your celebration.  You cut the work (and cost) in half…and it’s so much more fun to share it all.  We had a head count of about 35 people.  Mostly adults.  So the menu reflected a more mature palate.  This was not a peanut butter and jelly crowd.  It was a picnic/cookout, but we wanted something a bit different.  So we went with a more sophisticated version of the traditional fare.  The menu was almost exclusively lifted from Pinterest..of course. We did a gourmet burger with guacamole, bratwursts, and a blue cheese coleslaw (that was out of this world, if I dare say so).  We made thematic tags for the food like Oscar the Grouch’s Gourmet Burgers, Sunny Days Slaw and Big Bird’s Brats.  We added some smaller sides, as suggested by the pin.  Here is the link for the menu.  We followed it pretty much to the tee and found it to be the perfect amount of food and drinks.

We served beer and wine and either bottled water or pink lemonade for the non alcoholic choice.  We set up a separate drink table and used a 3 gallon dispenser for the pink lemonade.  I then printed out a cut out of Abby Caddaby’s face from Pinterest, laminated it, and double stick taped it on the dispenser.  It was super cute!


Decorations were pretty simple.  Balloons & Balloons. Different colored table covers (throw away). Different colored paper plates and napkins.  And a  Sesame Street Happy Birthday Banner from Party City.  Oh, and more balloons.  My cousin (Nora’s mother) made a party play list for the music, including the Sesame Street theme and oodles of happy, fun music, but not specifically children’s music.  It was a party for two children, but it wasn’t a children’s party, per say.




The dessert table was where I got creative with the Sesame Street theme. Of course, Elmo’s Goldfish were included.  And Abby Caddaby’s magic wands (chocolate dipped pretzel rods). Chocolate Chip cookies were served, as well as alphabet cookies and extra Cookie Monster fudge (more on that ahead).





Our Aunt Fil offered to get the cake which was a tremendous help.  So number two on the suggestion list…..when someone offers to bring something, say YES.  It could have said “Happy Retirement Sal” on it and it would have been great.  But as you can see, she kept with the Sesame theme beautifully!


I mentioned the Cookie Monster Fudge.  Again, Pinterest! Super cute.  Pretty easy.  And quite tasty.


I doubled the recipe and made enough to give as favors for the guests.  Found some small cellophane baggies at the dollar store and a cute Sesame Street pack of stickers ($ store) and used a label program on my computer to write the “Thank You so much for coming.  Love, Nora and Oliver.”  Soooo cute! Everything stuck to some construction paper squares, I punched some holes and used some ribbon.  Viola!


It was a really lovely day.  I dont recommend doing it yourself if you are the type who wants to relax and enjoy the party.  The whole time you are waiting on your guests, you are also running after a two year old…or at least trying to. Both sets of parents were wiped out by the time the last guest left around 8 or so. Like a truck ran over our bodies.  But it was lovely, nonetheless.  We held it at my parents home as it is so much closer to the bulk of the family on my side.  Maybe that’s why it reminded me so much of the picnics my Mom and Dad used to have summer after summer while we were growing up.  In a private moment of pause during the party I made my husband promise to remind me next year how hard it was so it would discourage me from wanting to do it again.  But, a lot like childbirth…you kind of forget the tough parts and remember the sweetness of it all.  Happy Happy Birthday my sweet O.  You have changed me for the better. Xoimage

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



Touching Hearts


“The passion of touch warms the heart.”

My yoga teacher said that last night in class and it stuck with me.  It made me think about how we, as humans, need to be touched.  It isn’t learned.  It is instinctual.  And it isn’t a sexual thing.  Sometimes we just need to be hugged, rubbed, or caressed.  Simple as that.

I see it with my little O. He can be playing, happy as a clam, and he will walk over to me, come in for a hug and then go about his business.  It’s like a vitamin for him.  I believe that I can’t hug and kiss him enough.  Especially at this age, when he still wants me to.  He needs it.  It’s clear.  It makes him happy and secure.

I don’t know if that need evaporates when we get older, but the context of touch certainly changes.  It becomes something we are super aware of.  If we mistakenly touch a stranger, we are embarrassed and apologetic.  We are taught that touch is something we only do with people we are close to…and then it changes to something romantic and becomes gender related.  Women can hug other women, or a man.   Men generally only hug women they are romantic with (or related to) and tend to shake the hand of another male.  Shaking the hand of someone, while technically touching, doesn’t quite have the warming effect a hug provides.  Do men really need less “contact” or is that just what society tells them?  Whatever the case is, physical contact, human to human is pretty limited these days.  It’s strange and sad, really.

When was the last time you hugged someone? I mean really hugged? Not a polite hug.  That, to me,  is a glorified handshake. It’s like the “air kiss.”  Pointless.   Well, not pointless, but you know what I mean.  I’m talking about a true full body, 4-8 second hug?  My Aunt Ellie always gave me great hugs.  She would say, “touching hearts” while we were in a full embrace.  She’s been gone almost five years now and I can still feel the warmth of her touch.  Granted, we were very close.  But I would venture to say she made many other people feel just as special as she always made me feel.  I’d like to be more like my Aunt Ellie.

I’d like to teach our little O the value of the human touch. I want him to know the power of a hug and the profound meaning a simple hand on one’s shoulder can have when someone needs support.  I’d like him to seek contact with people, rather than communicate via virtual means.  And yet again, the only thing I can do is be an example.  He will choose his own way doing what he is comfortable with.  I guess, as parents, our job is show him the possibilities.  Our house is a home of affection.  We not only shower O with hugs and kisses, but we are always showing each other affection.  Touch is good.  Touch is important.  It lets us know we are loved and alive.  That our life matters to someone else.  It makes us feel safe and secure.  What was that Diana Ross song? “Reach out and touch….somebody’s hand…make this world a better place…if you can.”  Totally throwback time and totally corny…but so true! In yoga class it was more hip…..but the sentiment remains.

So until next time, go on a mission to touch someone (and yourself, if the spirit moves you but THAT’S a whole other post) and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Namaste! Xo

Baby It’s Cold Outside


Winter has arrived.  At least in New England it has.  My days of escaping the frigidity by spending winters in the Caribbean or Florida are over.  At least for now.  And I’m ok with that.  My husband has armed me with sets of cuddlduds (fancy long underwear), fuzzy slippers, cute winter hats, and high strength moisturizing balms.  I’m all set.

I packed the Christmas decorations away yesterday (yeah, I keep them up for a while. I’m like that).  I am seeking out indoor activities for little O, as well as suiting him up in some super warm winter wear so we can be outside for as long as possible.  We found an amazing gymnastics school that does an open gym session for an hour on Wednesday mornings.  What a wonderful thing! If you are looking for something for your toddler to do to burn some of that crazy energy….check in your area.  I bet there is something like it near you. Even a local YMCA may have a similar program.

My point is, I’m thinking that hibernating for the winter with a toddler may be a whole different animal than adult hibernation.  Let’s face it, I was never very good at the adult version.  My strategy was to run to a warmer climate.  But now, I’m actually looking forward to the snow! Boy, how motherhood changes you!  I truly can’t wait to see O’s excitement for the snow.   I can’t wait to pull him up and down the driveway in a little sled and to watch him play in the white powder.  I know, I’m romanticing the whole scenario.  There will also be wet cold hands, crying, and 6 am snow clearing.  I’m aware.  Yet, I still look forward.  It’s like giving birth has released a euphoric hormone into my brain….and despite the harsh cold realities of the winter freeze, I am still excited and, dare I say, giddy about winter.  Anyone who knows me is wondering what the zombies did with me.  I’m telling you, to coin a lyric from the musical Wicked, “I have been changed for good.”

I am sure I am like a broken record about Gratitude.  It’s very “Oprah-esque,” I know.  It has truly become habit for me.  There was a time when I had to work hard at being grateful. It was a challenge to wrap my head around finding the positives.  Yet, in hind sight, they were all around me.  It’s not just since the birth of O that there is wonder surrounding me.  My life has been blessed from the start.  I just didn’t always see it.  Part of it is my maturing emotionally.  Part of it is my whole heartedly believing in the practice of gratitude.  The rest is part of my brain coming to life.  That’s actually a real thing in regards to motherhood. Check it out.

The more positive I become, the less room I have for negatives.  My mind literally switches them off.  It’s not automatic yet for me.  I have to make the choice to stop listening.  I want to live in Happiness.  I want more Joy.  I want Calm and Peace wrapping around me like a cozy blanket.  I’m sure I seem very Polyanna to a naysayer.  So be it.  I didn’t understand the super power of gratitude, either.  What’s the saying? The secret to having it all…. is believing that you do.  Perspective is everything!

So let the Winter have its due.  Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Let the weather be frightful.  My heart is warm and bursting.  Just at this moment I am snuggling up to a hot cup of apple cinnamon tea and polishing up my rose colored glasses.  Winters up here can last through March!

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


Deck The Yard With Pots of Holly


I don’t know about you, but I LOVE Christmastime.  I start listening to Christmas music in late October.  I shop mostly year round.  And after Thanksgiving I like to have decorations around the house so I can really enjoy them through the season.   I adore everything about this time of year.  As you know, I’ve been especially crafty this year.  Ever since we have moved into our new house, I fancy myself a sort of Martha Stewart meets Nigella meets Pioneer woman.  I’ve taken on some big projects in our home.  But the ones I have tackled for the holidays were all fun….and gave me much joy to accomplish.

I have shared my love of our yard.  But as the garden goes dormant, I was looking for something to fill my planter pots with that was festive and winter friendly.  Of course, Pinterest has some amazing planter ideas and how-tos.  I kind of melded several ideas together and came up with these…..




I literally walked around the property and found four different kind of evergreens, holly, pine cones and branches.  We have woods behind our house that go on and on…so finding these gems was not a stretch.  I pulled out the autumn mums I had in the pots, put some foam blocks for live floral arrangements on top of the soil and started arranging.    I don’t know how they will hold up in the New England snow….but for now, they are nice.

The second project I just finished yesterday, is a wreath for the birds.  In Martha’s November issue there is a picture of a simple balsam wreath with attached orange halves and pine cones slathered in peanut butter and rolled in bird seed.  It is so simple, but so nice.  I got a thing of green floral wire to attach the oranges (I used clementines) and pine cones to the wreath.  I added a festive red bow and I wound up with a sweet holiday accent for my yard and a party for the birds.




I’m loving all the creative things I can find to do for the holidays.  I’ve made gifts (though I can’t talk about them yet), pumpkin butters, fire starters, pine cone door hangers….hysterical.  I do wonder who the hell is in my body.  If you had told me 2 years ago that this would be me, I would have laughed and and thought YOU were crazy!

Also know, that not every project is a success.  I have many “misses.” Just ask my husband about my obsession with butternut squash.  Poor guy doesn’t need to see a butternut squash (or any squash for that matter) for a very long time.  Sometimes you succeed. Sometimes, not so much.  Either way, there is something really fufilling about creating something beautiful or something delicious.  Hmm…It’s a lot like motherhood.

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



At The End Of The Rainbow



As I sit here sipping my morning coffee I am filled with a feeling of contentment and gratitude.  It’s  quiet moments like this in our home that allow me to reflect on the blessings bestowed upon us.  Yeah, I am also making a grocery list in my head and thinking about how I will accomplish one of my DIY home projects today….but for the most part, I’m just acknowledging how grateful I am.

You see, I am a type A personality, if you couldn’t tell already.  I have this hyper gene in my makeup that makes me think I can do everything…all at once.  It is hard for me to relax and do nothing.  (It seems like such a waste!). But I am reminded, it seems by everyone, that it is, indeed, important to sometimes do just that.  Nothing.  At least to slow down.

I am going to share something that will no doubt make my haters hate me even more.  And that’s fine with me.  I have the best husband/partner in the Universe.  To say, “in the world”  doesn’t seem enough.  He is constantly reminding me to take in the simple things.  The little moments that I would have most likely trampled over on my way to Home Depot.  The instances that turn into moments that create memories that define our lives.  For instance,  one night this summer he set a blanket out on the lawn so we could lay on it and watch the shooting stars.  We saw like 10! The other night, he actually set an alarm (because we struggle to stay up past 9pm) so we could go outside and watch the super lunar eclipse.  I would have slept right through it.  It was spectacular.

Several weeks ago he showed me something that I seem to keep revisiting because it was THAT awesome.  Evenings this summer we would take O to the playground that is near our house.  He adores it.  On this particular night we were there for only about 10 minutes and the sky started to spit raindrops.  We went for cover under the pirate ship, as we were sure it was only a quick sun shower.  Then it started to really pour.  Even the plastic rendition of the Black Pearl couldn’t  keep us dry. We decided to make a run for the car and head home.  As we turned towards to parking lot we saw a huge rainbow.  It took us by surprise.  We scurried over to the car and Ian said, “Let’s find the end of the rainbow!”  I was like, “Seriously?”  “We’re gonna get soaked.” He looked at me with THAT look and said,   “We’re already soaked.”

So off we ran into the baseball field towards the rainbow’s end.  With our child in tow, like children ourselves.  O loved getting wet.  He squealed with absolute delight.  We stopped somewhere in right field and realized the end of the rainbow was Us.  We were standing right where it ended.  We were our own pot of gold!  If that’s not a God-wink, I don’t know what is.  The point is, I would have gotten into the car and drove home,  never seeing the amazing metaphor that now describes our life to me. It is my great fortune to be blessed with a partner who wants to lay under the stars and run in the rain.  Now, of course there are other facets to my dear husband.  He isn’t romping through the daffodils everyday and while he is an optimist, he has never worn a pair of rose colored glasses.  But time and time again he shows me what is truly important.

There is a scene in the classic film, Its A Wonderful Life, where George Bailey is sitting outside his Mother’s house while his brother’s engagement party is going on.  Ma Bailey comes out and tells him Mary Hatch is home from college and he should call on her.  She says of Mary, “She’s the kind of girl who’ll help you find the answers, George.”  I always loved that scene.  Who knew the answers involved such simple wonderful things? Like the laugh of our child, starry nights and a partner who shows me what’s at the end of the rainbow.

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


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