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

Mommy vs Trump

As I look out the window, there are snow flurries falling. The existing snow is peaceful and reverent, reminding me that there are, indeed, four distinct beautiful seasons where we live. We are so fortunate. My bowl of wasabi peas and taro chips helps my mind crunch around today’s topic. I wanted to avoid being political. Lord knows, my husband wishes I would. Poor guy. Invariably, our dinner conversation turns to the latest debate (or circus act) or, as of last night, primary results. I take in so much information every day and have no one but my 20 month old to discuss it with. So obviously, my husband walks through the door and is usually bombarded with my thoughts on the presidential race. Sexy, right?

Alas, I cannot abstain from a somewhat political post this week. Who am I kidding, it’s full on politico. It consumes my thoughts at the moment, and the best way to alleviate that is to write about it. So….warning: You may not agree with me. And that is fine. But I need to ask some serious questions of people. Because WHO becomes president of our United States DOES matter. Not just to us who are old enough to vote, but to our children and our grandchildren. It matters a great deal.

Yesterday, the state of New Hampshire gave the Republican primary win to the most severely unqualified (not to mention uncouth, and unkind) candidate on the ballot. Am I shocked? I suppose I am. Am I dismayed? Absolutely. Am I sort of sickened? Well, yes, I am. What does this say about us as a country? I mean, holy cow, this is for REAL, people. What does it say to our children when the brash, bigoted, foul mouthed bully rises?

I make no secret that I consider myself a liberal democrat. But if I happened to be a republican, how could I vote for the likes of a Donald Trump? He isn’t really a republican. In fact, he is pretty much killing the party and everything being a true republican stood for. He, of course, wouldn’t know the difference, because he hasn’t educated himself with the history of the party, nor does he seem to care about it. But if you are a republican, how do you vote for a candidate with no content to his character and no actual plan to “make America great again” whatever that means? The demagogue/buffoon has no place as the leader of the free world. This isn’t for entertainment. It puts in jeopardy people’s lives and the credibility of our nation.

People want to blame President Obama for their hardships, but it’s those same American people who elected a Republican controlled Congress who would not work across the aisle. And they are angry? At what? Their lack of foresight? Did they not think this political gridlock would become the norm? It seems to me that Trump’s appeal is based on anger and fear. His entitled, thug-like bullish behavior somehow resonates in people who are seeking a quick fix to their problems but who don’t want to shoulder any responsibility or take any part in being part of the solution. In my opinion, Mr. Trump embodies everything dark and dirty in the cliche of the Ugly American.

You really failed, New Hampshire. I’m just grateful my O isn’t old enough to ask questions about this election. The election process was always something I was proud of, as an American. I remember watching the inaugural ceremony when President Obama was sworn in the first time. I remember my father being so moved, he wept. I remember thinking, “Wow, we’ve come a long way!” I remember feeling proud to be an American. Not today, New Hampshire. Not today.

Until next time, when I swear I’ll talk about lotion making or fluff sandwiches, 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

Top 10 Occupational Hazards of a SAHM

I have been realizing more and more, there are several alarmingly real, and often truly gross, occupational hazards of being a Stay At Home Mom. I am sure as my boy gets older, the list will evolve and grow, as he does. But the list for the parent of a toddler is pretty robust, to say the least. I have said it before and I’ll say it again, this is the toughest job in the world….and not for the faint of heart. I’m sure everyone’s list has variations…but here’s my top 10.

# 1. You will get sick. Be it the cold your LO got from this week’s play date or the stomach bug that flew through the entire story time group….you will come down with whatever your LO gets. It’s just the way it goes.

# 2. You will wear your toddler’s food on occasion. Whether it splatters by mistake or your LO decides it would look better on your shirt than on his spoon…you will wear it.

# 3. You will become disconnected from your friends without children. It doesn’t mean it’s forever. But it just happens. When you find yourself with a free moment, you’ll realize that you couldn’t possibly call them right now, as it’s only 5 am where they live.

# 4. You will be tired. You will fall in love with bed. Sleep becomes the highest priority after taking care of your LO. You will dream of sleep while you are sleeping.

# 5. You will get thrown up on. It’s not pretty. Nor does it smell nice.

# 6. You will get poop on some part of you or your apparel. Whether it be a leaky diaper, or a diaper change gone wrong, it will happen. If you are lucky enough to have a boy….you will, at least once, get pee in your face. Again, not pretty nor fresh smelling.

# 7. Your nice things will not remain nice. Your brand new carpet will get soiled and your $4000 couch will become a Kleenex for your toddler’s runny nose. It’s just stuff. Get a good protection plan.

# 8. Everything you say will be repeated. Everything. Choose your words carefully. Oh, shit!

# 9. You will feel like you are failing. Often. Rest assured, if you care that you are, then you most likely are not.

#10. You will not be prepared for the amount of love you possess for your child. Nor will you imagine how it keeps growing exponentially. It often takes your breath away. Get an inhaler.

Until next time, keep smiling, 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

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

Happy New Year Mommy

As the end of each year inches closer and closer, we often read reviews of the events of the past 365 days. Highlights, downers, newsmakers, etc. This morning I was reading the Skimm’s year in review. I enjoy the Skimm. If you aren’t familiar, take a peek. These two women have really made taking in the world news more of a pleasure for this mommy. Cause let’s face it, the nightly news is depressing to say the least, and who has time for that level of negativity? Not this chicka.

As 2015 comes to a close, what was your year in review? Have you thought about it? Have you taken stock? It’s funny, because there have certainly been negatives and hardships along the path. But the only things that truly resonate within me are all the joys. It has been a year of absolute wonder. And I have my beautiful son and my steady husband to thank for that.

I have to wonder if it is because I am older, that I am truly able to appreciate this time in my life. I know this is a common theme of mine. But the question seems to always come up in me. Is my happiness attributed to the birth of my son? Does it have to do with where I am in my life and what I finally believe I deserve? Perhaps it is a combination of things. Certainly, above all else, it has to do with gratitude. I am abundantly thankful, and, in turn, I am abundantly happy. I am absolutely certain there is a direct correlation between happiness and gratitude.

So as 2016 begins, I am going to keep accentuating the positive. All the world’s problems will still be there. We will no doubt be kicked in the gut again with some senseless shooting somewhere in our country’s backyard. We will have a year of crazy political rallies and far too much media coverage of a certain bigoted candidate with a shameful comb-over and even more shameful rhetoric. The world will continue to fear and fight terrorism and the climate will continue to change. What can we actually control? What can our tangible contribution be (beyond getting out and VOTING)? We can choose to be happy. We can pass that gift on to our children. We can show them by example of how to live in gratitude and positivity. That’s my resolution. And I think it’s the only way to defend our souls from the year….hell, from the decades ahead. So happy new year, Mommy. HAPPY new year!

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

P.S. I Can’t Do It All

As if I needed to declare this. As if I assumed you thought otherwise….Nope. It is most official. I CANNOT do it all. There are some things better left to others….anyone else, to be frank. I have experienced an epic fail today in my quest for home improvement/beautification. It is an important lesson I have learned. Me, drills and drywall don’t mix. I should stay far far away from anything having to do with said drywall. In my effort to surprise my husband by hanging a hand towel rack in our newly renovated master bath, I have created a bigger headache for him than having to install it in the first place. I know he hates hanging things, especially towel racks, etc. I thought, “how hard could it be?” Well, apparently for me, it’s pretty freakin hard. There is now a hole the size of a small coin and a drywall anchor that has pushed through the wall with the screw still attached….what a mess. I have given up trying to rectify the situation, as every time I attempt, the problem (and hole) gets bigger. Oye.

If there is one thing that really irks me, it’s when I can’t do something. I’m now feeling like a total failure. If I had potato chips I’d be chomping on the big bag trying to crunch out my frustrations. Instead, I downed 2 Oreos. So not the same. As I begin to come to my senses and get over myself, I wipe the crumbs from my face and realize there is another lesson to be learned here beyond staying away from drills and drywall.

Perhaps we are not meant to be able to do everything. If you think about it, isn’t that how the best partnerships are born? People who complement each other in their talents and skills. Well, that’s my husband. He’s the ying to my yang…or the yang to my ying…either way, you get what I’m saying. We are so opposite in so many ways….but yet we are aligned perfectly when it comes to important things like love and family.

Maybe it’s ok that I don’t possess the strength and skills to use a power drill effectively. Because he’s pretty great at it. I think it’s good that I have patience for the tedious projects in the house (like painting the woodwork) because he doesn’t. I have no doubt there is some woman out there who is able to put a drywall anchor and screw in just fine. Power to her! It’s just not me. So perhaps I’m blowing smoke up my own tush, trying to make myself feel better for my failure. Maybe I’m the only woman on earth who can’t seem to handle this seemingly easy task. Whatever the case may be, I like being the ying to his yang. I like compromising. I like meeting him half way. I like knowing there are things he can do better than me. And in turn, there are things I do better than him. I like being part of a partnership. I like keeping each other in line. I like being accountable to someone else. Who’d have thunk?

So there you have it. My epic fail has evolved into a revelation of gratitude. My craving for chips has passed. 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

What To Tell Our Children About The World

With recent events in Paris, Beirut and Africa, not to mention bombs taking down planes and ISIS filling the headlines, it is a fact that the world has become a scary place. That’s putting it mildly. It made me think about what we will tell O about the world we brought him into. Will we shield him? Will we tell him the truth, as tough as it may be? What we tell him and how we tell him things will help shape who he becomes.

I think honesty is the best policy. But what about omitting information to protect your child? Is that lying? I certainly don’t want him growing up being ignorant of the world and its ways. But I also don’t want to scare him. The idea of suicide bombers is hard to swallow for an adult, let alone a child. So what do we do? I guess it’s a pretty personal decision for parents. My husband is in favor of honesty all the way….I like to say “gentle honesty.”

I know some people who didn’t tell their children about 9/11. Or about the Sandy Hook School shootings. How you keep something like either of those things from your kid is beyond me. I mean logistically. The stories were everywhere. Not just TV. You’d have to live under a rock not to notice the outpouring of emotion. And then what happens when the kids whose parents did have a conversation with them, start explaining it to other children? Your child gets the version as understood by little Johnny from down the street.

I guess like everything, we should approach it with thought and balance. I suppose it isn’t necessary to have a conversation with O about such things until he reaches school age. Or before, if he starts inquiring for himself. And I suppose we should gently pour the truth out in terms and in quantities appropriate for his age. But there are certainly things I want him to be afraid of…like strange men in vans who have puppies and lollipops. Damn straight. Stranger Danger is for real and a whole other post…but something to certainly discuss way before school age.

Ugh! The world can be a horrible place with such evil lurking in it. How do we make him aware of it without making him completely fearful or worse, completely cynical. The world is filled with such disenchantment. Such wild disenchantment. I believe that is a big part of where much evil is born. So how do we keep his innocence and naïveté while educating him about the world? Seems an impossible task. Unless the key is to also fill him with hope. To teach him respect and trust. To show him the magic that exists in our every day. To let him know that even though bad things can happen, miracles happen, as well. To fill him with kindness, faith and possibilities, while we balance it all out with doses of some tough realities.

This parenting thing is not for the faint of heart. I suppose if we let ourselves become consumed with the terrors that exist we would never procreate. And the evil that exists would win. I certainly don’t want that kind of world for O. It is with a heavy heart for this world that I wish you a blessed Thanksgiving. May you be especially thankful for the loved ones you call Family and may your heart continue to hold hope in it.

Until next time, this emotional mommy is going to have a good cry and say some extra prayers. And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Thank you so much for reading. Xo

Taming Your Demons With Chips

This week’s post isn’t about having a child. It isn’t about being a new mom of advanced maternal age. It is simply a rebuttal, fused with some humor and what I believe is truth. I don’t want you to think that I live a charmed life….although I think I do. I don’t want haters and such people writing nasty comments on my blog…..although there have been several. I want you to know my life is no grander and no worse than anyone’s. I just happen to think I’m the luckiest chick in the world. I know and accept the saying…”haters gonna hate.” I figured writing a blog would make me a target for criticism or worse. I kind of hoped just for the criticism, but hey, we can’t pick and choose. Even my self deprecating humor has come hit me in the face like a dirty mud pie. It’s all part of the territory.

The reason I say all of this is because people usually write and say nasty things because they feel something is lacking in their own life. Something is making that person unhappy…so let’s just project it outward onto anyone and anything. Well, I’d like to offer up an alternative to those folks dealing with their negative demons. It’s something I do to keep my crazy at bay. Instead of indulging in nasty and unattractive behavior, may I suggest indulging in a bowl of extra crunchy kettle cooked potato chips. Preferably the ones made without additives. Just good honest super crunchy potato chips. (Trader Joes makes a superb chip).

You see, there is something truly satisfying about the crunch….the salt…the rote mechanics of putting your hand to your mouth. Who ever thought you could get lost in a chip?….But I tell you, it’s possible. By bowl’s end you will find savory satisfaction. You will find yourself fulfilled. By bowl’s end you won’t feel like being a hater. You won’t be as stressed. It’s my m.o. for unwinding. Unhappy readers should try it.

There is a saying that goes like this. “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there still is going to be somebody who doesn’t like peaches.” I’m sure I’ll catch hell fire for that. Someone will assume I think I’m the juicy peach. Oh Please. Meryl Streep said it perfectly when she made this statement:

“I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me. I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature. I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me.”

Well amen to that. If you disagree with something I write, by all means speak up and comment. Respectful alternative viewpoints and conversations are healthy. Nasty comments are not. They honestly say more about the critic than they do about the subject. So here’s another tactic. Just don’t read my blog. If something insenses you to the point of ugly unglued behavior, don’t read it. And if you simply hate me because my life is so wonderful, well, then perhaps a shift in your perspective on your own life is in order. Our lives are what we make of them..or what we believe them to be. Perspective is everything. From where I’m sitting, I’m the luckiest chick I know and the chips are extra crunchy.

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. As always, thanks for reading! Xo

Sexy Mommy Happy Family

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From Gucci To Gerber

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

Wise Words?