For Now

Yesterday I opened up my Facebook feed and felt like I got punched in the gut. Not once, not twice, but three times. Within a span of four minutes, I was given three separate notices of horrible news. Two separate instances of friends finding out they have cancer and the other instance was about another special soul taken from this earth far too soon. Rarely do I get hit with three consecutive bits of bad news so quickly. It was a jolt, to say the least.

I know bad things happen. It seems often that they happen to the best people. But why? And why one person and not another? Only a higher power knows these answers. It makes me think about life. And what it means to actually live. It makes me think about attitude, perspective and the choice we have everyday to LIVE. It makes me realize that life is for NOW. That is really all there is….NOW. Yesterday is done. Tomorrow may never happen. So NOW is everything.

If you are lucky enough to be blessed today, why not acknowledge it? Why not celebrate? Why not thank your lucky stars? …Today! Tomorrow, I could be the one announcing some horrible news. I could be the one fighting cancer, God forbid. But today…I am healthy. I am loved. I am safe. I have joy in my life. I am living. Conversely, I know that if I am sad or in pain….it is just for now. It isn’t a permanent state of being.

I was thinking that I hadn’t learned this lesson from my upbringing….as my wonderful Mother lives mostly in the past or in the land of “if only.” (If only her kids lived closer. If only her husband was different. Etc.). But, maybe that is precisely WHY I believe so differently about life. I see very closely what can happen when you don’t acknowledge what you have. When you don’t say out loud what you are grateful for…everyday. When you let the bad news of life dull your NOW. Trust me, I am not minimizing depression. I understand first hand the effects it has on the depressed and their loved ones. I have great compassion for anyone afflicted with this dark disease.

I only hope, I can instill in my little O, a sense of gratitude and thankfulness. I believe you have to practice gratitude. Every night my husband and I list five things we are grateful for. It is a practice that has become habit and I love that. We will do the same with O when he is old enough. Hopefully he will carry that with him to help shape his perspective on life.

I am not saying happiness is as easy as counting your blessings. But it is certainly a common practice of happy people. So for now, I am going to count mine. I have so many. My most precious one is toddling around, squealing with joy and clapping his hands. He is also in need of a diaper change. Now.

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

Thoughts on the Bottle

I’ve been thinking a bit about the bottle lately. It seems like ever since O turned a year old, the pressure to get him off the bottle comes from all directions. Every parenting article I read tells me it’s time to give it up. Every well meaning relative, every Tom, Dick and Harry (every Tom, Harry or Dick) thinks once a child turns one we should take the bottle out of his hands. If I was nursing, would there be pressure to get my child off the boob at a year old? I’m interested to know.

Why is it that my baby went from infant to toddler in the span of a day? I mean, I know he’s not an infant anymore, but he hardly qualifies as a little boy yet. He’s still a baby for goodness sake. That bottle is a comfort for him before bedtime…and (here it goes) I still give him one early in he morning. That one is more for me, because O will sleep another two hours if he has a bottle. That’s time for me to shower, enjoy my coffee, and DO things. It’s GOLD! And really, I have to change his diaper after he sleeps through the night anyway. ( God knows, there is no room in it for his morning poop…it MUST be changed!)…so what’s the problem with a bottle and a cuddle? Is there something wrong with that?

He drinks pretty well with his sippy cup during the day…but only water. He won’t do “milk” in it at all. So the only milk he gets is before bed and in the early morning. So it’s not like I’m giving him too much. And why is my tone so defensive? Why is it SO important to get my son off the bottle so quickly? Why does society want my baby to grow up so fast? It seems to me that O lets me know when he is ready for things. I introduce things and in time he takes to them. I don’t push foods on him, but just keep introducing and re-introducing them. Sometimes the 7th time is the charm! I am digressing.

The point is, my boy has a lifetime to drink out of cups. I really don’t believe it is detrimental to him to have a bottle for another year. Maybe more. I don’t know. What I do know, is that I am in NO rush to have him do anything un-baby like. That time will be here before I know it. I don’t mind keeping him little for as long as I can. I’m sure someone out there thinks I am holding my child back or being a complete hover mommy. But the fact is, at least in O’s case, he eventually hits every milestone with joy and gusto….when he’s good and ready. I’ve learned now, not to stress over it. He’s gonna do everything he’s “supposed” to in his own time. Why push?

Well, friends, that’s my two cents for this week 🙂 Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember…behind every great kid, is a mom who is sure she is messing it up.

Rainbows And Reality

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raising a Good Kind Decent Person

I am sitting for a moment. Resting. Catching my breath. I’ve been working all morning, packing, sorting, labeling boxes….all while trying to keep O’s routine afloat. At least let me feed him on time. And get him down for a nap…Yes! A nap! There is a sea of boxes in my kitchen. Some packed and some waiting to be filled. There are towers of suitcases in my living room. Multiple rolls of tape and bubble wrap….somewhere. We move in two days, but I just have to rest for a second. Catch my breath and write a little because there has been something gnawing at me. Through all the happy disarray that is our life right now, there is an underlying sadness sitting on my heart. I’m sure you have heard about it. I’m talking about the terrorist attack on a church and it’s members in South Carolina. I can’t shake it. I can’t just gloss over it and move on. I believe there are so many of us who are feeling this way. I’m not confused or baffled. I can’t say, “How could this happen?” I know exactly how it happened.

I’m upset and I’m mad. I am ashamed of our laws. I am ashamed of the racism that runs through our country’s veins, infecting generation after generation. I’m ashamed that our biggest priority, as a country, has been to defend ourselves from terrorism, but just the foreign kind. I’m mad at our elected officials who want to pretend this wasn’t an act of terrorism. I’m ashamed of “Merica.” I feel small and insignificant. I feel, as I imagine so many of us do, helpless.

I then look over at my son and see a lifetime of possibilities. I know that my husband and I have an important job to do. We have to raise this child to become a good, kind and decent person. In light of this crazy world we live in, it is clear to me, this is no easy task. I can’t imagine anyone having the intention to raise their child to be a monster. Of course not. But what about the idea of parenting with intention? Children don’t just raise themselves…..or is that is what’s happening? This world is filled with violence, hate, rage and unspeakable demons. My child will be bombarded with these things time and time again as he grows. It is our job to explain. To teach. To filter and interpret until he is old enough to do so himself. If we neglect to guide him, then we will have failed him. It is our intention to raise a good, kind and decent person. We can never lose sight of that result. It is the least we can do for him. He has given our life profound unexpected meaning. He has given us a love we didn’t really know existed until we were filled with it. We owe him everything.

I don’t want to throw stones at any parent. I don’t want to pass judgment, though it’s a tough one. The pain the shooter’s parents must feel is unimaginable to me. Frankly, it scares me to death. I wouldn’t want to be in those shoes, God Forbid. I always say, “never say never.” So I won’t say, “that would never be me!” I will just pray extra hard that it won’t be. I will try extra hard to have it not be. And I’ll keep both my eyes on the boy I am raising to be that good, kind and decent person.

There is so much more I want to say. So many thoughts swirling around my head regarding this quandary our country is in. I am struggling. I honestly can’t find the words. At least the right words. But one thing I know for sure is that we need to talk about this. We need to figure this out. And it isn’t going to happen if we try to forget about it or pretend it didn’t happen. I certainly don’t have the answers for everyone. I can only do my little part (which is pretty big). I need to love and raise our son. I need to actively participate in his upbringing. It will be the most important thing I can do to end this craziness that has become the norm.

To Kiss Or Not To Kiss

This week I was floating around the Facebook Mommy groups I belong to looking for topics Moms are sharing and talking about. There was a share of a June 9, 2015 article from everydayfamily.com. It was entitled, At What Age Should You Stop Kissing Your Kids On The Lips? Before I read it, I thought to myself, this is going to be one of those articles that grabs your attention by the ridiculous question title and then goes on to dispel the whole issue. Boy, was I wrong.

This “article” cites two “experts.” The associate clinical professor of psychology from UCLA says the time to stop is NOW, as a kiss on the lips could be confusing to a child. At the very most, stop at age 5! What? And the other, a Proactive Parenting Coach, says the time to stop kissing on the lips is when either party feels uncomfortable. Again….huh? I’m so disturbed by this parenting advice. What the hell is wrong with people. Talk about psychology messing people up! Not to mention, how do people get published writing this kind of ridiculous stuff? How can someone take a pure form of affection between a parent and child and make it into something dirty? I just don’t get it.

Now to be fair, the article on everydayfamily.com was more of a regurgitation of quotes from the “experts,” with a pinch of the writers own vague opinion, which seemed to be either here nor there. It concluded with a “What do you think?” ending. So I looked into the online bio of the writer, a Mr. Jace Whatcott. The bio didn’t say whether Mr. Whatcott had children himself, although there was a photo of (I am assuming) him holding a child. But, I am inclined to think he actually may not have a child himself, as his writing didn’t have a parental tone. And his list of hobbies (crossword puzzles, reading, and naps!) made me think he has WAY to much time on his hands to be a parent. At least, a parent who parents. BAM! Yeah, I know, harsh.

Because I live under a very large Mommy rock, I didn’t know there was a huge to-do this past winter about the New England Patriots Coach, Bill Belichick, giving his 30 year old daughter a congratulatory kiss on the lips at the Super Bowl. Why would anyone feel that was inappropriate? Now, if there was tongue involved, I could see someone having issue. But a closed mouth kiss on the lips? I truly believe it says more about the critic than the kiss. Is there such a heightened eye on sexual abuse that we can’t discern between a non sexual intuitive act of affection and abuse?

I believe affection is oh so important to the development of a child into a healthy adult. And, of course, there is data to support that theory. Research published in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health found that babies with very affectionate moms grew up to be “more resilient, less anxious adults.” At about the age of 34, the same individuals showered with love and kisses as babies in the study showed the lowest levels of distress as adults.

But beyond all the data you can find to support either school of thought, what about common sense? What about healthy instinctual affection between a parent and child, at any age? If I see a grown man or woman kissing either their father or mother on the lips or cheek or forehead or hand….I think it shows a healthy relationship with intimacy and affection. Kudos to the parent who taught their child to not be afraid of affection.

We are such an all or nothing society. Instead of teaching a child the shades and nuances of affection and the meanings of affection in different relationships, we would rather avoid the conversation all together and just say NO KISSING ON THE LIPS AFTER 5 YEARS OLD. Well, not this Mommy. Or Daddy, for that matter. My husband seems to have no problem showering our little O with kisses and hugs. I can’t imagine him having a problem with it even when O gets older. I see him kiss his mother on the lips and I think it’s lovely. To think anything weird about it would be…well, weird. I’m not worried about O being confused by our affection towards him. What any child might find confusing is the inappropriate subtext people attach to such an instinctual natural act. Children pick up on everything. Even our latent fears.

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. 🙂

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. 🙂

The Irony of Ignorance

There was a post this past week going around the internet. An offended mother on Facebook re posted it from a “religious” blog. It was a photo of a women’s abdomen with a C-Section scar…and a caption saying something to the effect of, “if you didn’t give birth naturally you can’t really call yourself a real mother. Have some respect for the real women who truly gave birth.” This is, obviously, ridiculous. It said more insane things, but you get the idea. The level of ignorance displayed by this “godly” group is astounding….yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I am a woman who had an emergency c-section. I wear my scar proudly. It reminds me everyday of the gift I have been given. I have no shame in having had to give birth that way. I remember in one of the many classes I took before giving birth, the nurse kept referring to a c-section as an insult to the mother. I just didn’t see it that way. Without modern medicine, my delivery would have been fraught with complications, trauma to the baby, or God forbid, worse. I wanted my beautiful boy. How he was helped to enter this world, did not matter to me. Why should it to anyone else? It was our private, intimate moment. No one else’s. Why would ANYONE else care?

This leads me to thinking about the troubled times we have ahead in our society. About the kind of world I have brought my beautiful son into. The intolerance and fear of ignorant people seems to be spreading. I can’t even wrap my head around what is going on in Indiana. It’s like we are stepping backwards in time. This intolerance, this lack of understanding, this hatred…is all in the name of religion. I won’t say it’s in the name of God, because God isn’t making these ridiculous, hateful laws. Men are. The God I love and pray to would not hate so, nor would he throw me into the furnace of hell for having a c-section. It’s all the same handful of haters chastising women and persecuting the gays. (If only it was just a handful.) So who are the people supporting this hateful propaganda? What makes these people so fearful?

I can only imagine their hate comes from fear and lack of knowledge. We are afraid of what we don’t understand. Is that true? We are afraid of something or someone different. Maybe when I was 8. So I think it comes down to education. Or rather the lack of it. Education promotes free thinking which, in turn, creates thoughtful evolved people. Lack of education leaves room for someone else to come in and tell you how you should think. And as for the educated suits in Washington…well, in my opinion, power has corrupted their sense of right and wrong. Oye, this is all so political and that was not my intention when I started writing this post. But how are these problems solved if not thought through?

I am just one woman. One scarred, educated, free thinking woman. Everyday I CAN make a difference. Everyday I have the ability to mold the next generation. I may have only one boy, but that’s a start. I can teach him to respect and embrace the differences in people, to love his neighbor and seek the answers for things he doesn’t understand. How do I teach this? By example. By loving the people in my life…by respecting everyone’s life choices whether they are my choices or not. This parenting thing is powerful. More powerful than many may realize. Yes, the internet is a pretty powerful tool for crazy radicals who want to tear a mother down. But the antidote to that is just don’t re post the offensive item. Don’t share it. Don’t comment on it. It’s truly not worth it..and it only promotes the traffic on their silly site, which is probably why they posted it in the first place.

The irony of all this ignorance is that those involved feel they are justified in their hatred because they feel it is their religious right. Well, hate is hate is hate…is hate. No matter how you spin it, you wind up with hate. It’s sad really. I do believe in the end, LOVE will always win. It is a far more powerful emotion than hate. And easier to pass on. One day at a time. One child at a time.

Until next time..keep on keeping on. And try not to let things others post get you down. We are all just doing the very best we can….each and every day. Thanks for reading.

How to Have It All…Just Not All at Once

As women we are no strangers to the idea of “having it all.” As far back as I can remember, the notion was embedded into my head. You are taught from a very young age that if you aren’t looking to “have it all,” then you aren’t reaching high enough. Especially for us Type As. It is the female goal. Having it ALL. Great career, loving spouse, and of course, a baby or two ( or in some cases three or more…God Bless Ya!). Our society bills this as the ideal. As the way to happiness. Career Mommy who is fulfilled as a mother and a professional. Well …I say it’s all bananas.

The truth, at least the way I see it, is that you most certainly can have it all…just not all at the same time. You can totally be a stay-at-home mom and focus on raising your children, but then your career suffers. Or you can choose to focus on your career and have your child cared for by someone other than you. Either way, something has to give. Now of course, there are women who HAVE to work and are forced to have their children in daycare…but that isn’t an argument for “having it all.” Ask them if they are truly happy with the situation. ?? That’s called “making it work” as sooo many women do these days. But it’s not “having it all.”

“Having it ALL” includes being happy. As Mark Manson writes in his article The Hidden Cost of Happiness, “everything has a cost, even if that cost is not immediately apparent. To achieve anything you must give up something else.” In our happiness obsessed culture, we seem to strive for the opposite. But as he says, “Ironically, it’s the unwillingness to sacrifice anything, to give up anything, that makes us more miserable.” I agree. (I highly suggest reading his piece. Or all his stuff. He is kind of a self help guru for people who can’t stand self help. www.markmanson.net

So I have to personalize the theory. If I try to keep my career going, then I have to give up not just time with my son, but I would have to give up possibly, seeing his first steps, hearing his first words, among other milestones. For me to work, means time away. Sure I could bring him with me, but someone else would have to care for him during rehearsals and performance times….and then my husband loses out. He would miss stuff as well. How could I do that to him? So the loving husband is penalized for my need to feel relevant in my career. If I left O with my husband, he would be in daycare every week day. Again, someone else essentially raising my son. And I would miss everything. The mere thought of not seeing him everyday for even a small period of time is unthinkable right now. Maybe that will change? I don’t know. Either way, would keeping my career afloat bring me true happiness? Or just fleeting happiness? What is really required for true happiness?

Well, I’m glad you asked that. Mr. Manson says that first off “you must accept imperfection and flaws.” Now this is tough because we then have to accept that we have to live with things we don’t like. I don’t like 4am feedings. I don’t like getting spit up on. And I don’t like the inconsolable crying. But…I accept it as where we are right now in this journey of raising our child. Hell, Ladies, there are about a hundred other things I don’t like about this job, but there are a hundred and four that I now can’t live without.

Most importantly, Mr. Manson talks about finding a deeper purpose to your actions. This has to do with growth and contribution. Now THIS speaks to me as a mother. What could be more motivating than raising a child to become a decent, kind, thinking human being?? That is a true contribution to society. Hell, you could be raising the child who grows up to change life, as the world knows it, for the better! And as far as growth, well, that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger…there’s your growth! But truly, I somehow understand through all my foibles with this task, that my love for O makes me a better person. It’s not about me. Mothering is a selfless act. And when you do for another, with no thought of gain for yourself, it makes you happy. It’s just the way it works.

A pic from the last show I did before O.

So the question is…could I find that profound happiness whilst belting out a tune or tapping my troubles away?? Happy, yes. But profound happiness?…the stuff of angels? No, I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not so easy. Not so black and white. There are days when I long for the smell of the greasepaint and the roar of the crowd. Days where I wish I could audition, book a show..and PLAY!! But….then the reality for this Mommy sets in. I know there are friends of mine and readers, perhaps, who are thinking that I am giving up. They are right. I guess, I feel I must to get something else, i.e. the “motherhood experience.” You see, I have enjoyed a rather full amazing life so far. One so completely different from the one I struggle through today. But there is part of me that knows there is a higher purpose to this time and task, and it honestly gets me through days when I don’t really want to go to “work.” (Like it’s an option! lol) So for now…my career suffers. Maybe it will never recover…maybe I will recreate myself as an older more grounded actress…?? ( I’m thinking Meryl Streep meets Kristen Wiig) ? Who knows… Who cares? Right now, it doesn’t matter. Right now, I need to BE HERE..in this moment. In this very special role, that was chosen just for me. And the HAPPINESS, while mingled with tears and tough days, is rich and abundant, and unlike any I’ve know before.

Until next time, keep on keeping on….and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is quite certain she’s messing it all up! 🙂 xo

From Gucci To Gerber

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

Wise Words?