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

WE DON’T DO THAT

I have finally sat down from a day of days. Trying to get O out of the house this morning to get to a car service appointment was like pulling teeth. It’s hot and muggy, so THAT doesn’t help matters. We get to the Kia dealership and for a second time, the playroom for use while you wait with your child, was filthy. Nasty filthy. Sorry Kia, not impressed! Anyway, O was being really good, so I figured while I was on the other side of hell’s creation, we would go to an indoor play area that he loves at the Mall. This is where my rant begins.

As a parent, when I take my child to a play area, playground, you name it, my first priority is to watch my child. On occasion, I have met a friend at a playground, and while we try to chat and catch up, we both have our eyes on our children. We are consistent with guiding our children in play. You know, the basic stuff. Wait your turn…no pushing…no grabbing. This is the mom I want to be friends with. You know why? Cause this Mom understands that a trip to the mall play area isn’t time off for her. It’s not “let’s check my Facebook on my phone and tune out for a few minutes.” Trust me, I know how much we all want some time to ourselves. I am the first one to say it. But this isn’t the time.

Taking your child to a group play area is an opportunity to teach your child how to interact socially with others, through play! I am not talking about helicoptering. I’m talking about guiding when it is clear your child does not know which road to take. If I saw my son push past another child to go first down the slide, I would take him aside and explain that we don’t do that. By WE I mean, a civil kind society, does not do that! If my child just grabbed a toy from another child on the playground, I would explain, yet again, that we don’t do that! We do not just take from others. We can ask if we may use the toy…or if we may take a turn. But we do not just take! What hope do our children have in this world without some guidance?

I have taught O to wait his turn. I have taught him not to go down the slide until it’s all clear. I have taught him that we don’t grab or push. I am under NO illusion that these “rules for play” won’t need to be reiterated time and time again with him. Of course they will. He is two. And he is a child. It is not any child’s fault for their behavior, lack of manners or lack of restraint. They are children. It is not their job to remember the things that will serve them as they grow up in this world. It is the job of the parent to remind them (again and again) until it becomes the child’s second nature.

I was so freaking annoyed at the play area today. Countless parents tuned out, letting their entitled children push past others. Some Moms were hovering, but more engaged in chatting with their mommy friends. I get it. We are starved for connection with another adult. Especially one going through the same trials and tribulations. But your child has decided to continuously walk up the slide and block it while other children are waiting to go down. He is completely disregarding other children; ones that are much younger and smaller than he is. He is now lying on the slide completely blocking its path. This is going on now for a bit of time. You do realize that you can say NO to your child, right? I’m not saying you have to go all Joan Crawford on your kid, but at least a gentle reminder that we don’t do that! Do you really think you are helping your children by not giving them guidance? Do you somehow think you are letting them find their way organically on their own? Or…are you just so unaware and ignorant that you think pushing and taking are good? I tell you, I am still shaking my head.

I have been alarmed at the behavior of parents of all ages, races and socioeconomic backgrounds. This epidemic of lack of respect is a wide spread problem. This sense of entitlement being embedded into children’s minds is happening right there on the playground. It’s plain as day to anyone tuned into it. And parents are just sitting back, checking their phones and letting it grow like the social cancer it is.

Yes, I’m pissed. Cause it’s right in front of me. The problem and the solution.

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.

When You Think Your Toddler Is An A-Hole

Today my snack of choice is green pea crisps. They are baked, gluten free and have enough salt to satiate me without being high in sodium. A good choice of avoidance, I’d say. But the bag is now empty, so my words need to start filling the page. What I am about to say is not very nice. I feel horrible for even thinking it. As if guilt isn’t already part of my standard operating procedure. But here it goes. I don’t always like my toddler. Yes, of course, I love him. I’m grateful for him and can’t imagine my life without him. But sometimes, he can be really unlikable. Geez, Mary. Yeah, whatever. I could have picked a much harsher word to describe this child and his unacceptable behavior, but my husband and his grandparents would no doubt frown upon such language chosen to describe their little angel. I remember a friend of mine saying ” My kids are being such douche bags!” I remember thinking, “Geez, that’s harsh.” (What a judgmental singleton I was.). But now I kinda get it. Cause sometimes it proves oh so true.

With O we have moved into a constant whine, which apparently is reserved just for mommy. It is like nails on a chalkboard. He has started kicking and swatting mommy followed by “Ow!” in a sassy “whatcha gonna do about it” tone. Not to mention ramming Thomas the Tank Engine into the back of mommy’s ankles while I am at the kitchen sink. Some days are far worse than others, obviously. When I say “No” he says “Yes.” When I say “Yes” he says “No.” It’s maddening. It is non sensical. No matter how I address the behavior (ignore, redirect, admonish) it persists. These things are just the tip of the iceberg. I know, I know, he is two. He is testing me. I take cleansing breath after cleansing breath. It’s no wonder I don’t pass out from all the deep breathing. I longingly look at the clock willing my husband to walk through the door. I tell you this, these aren’t the Terrible Twos….they are the A-Hole Years.

Trust me, I don’t feel good about saying this. The tougher it gets, the more I feel like I am failing. Like there are days that I don’t know if I have the strength of character to get through. Days where the fantasy of driving away in my car creeps it’s nasty head into my thoughts. It is shameful. It is humiliating and loathful. Who thinks their child is an a-hole? A two year old, no less. I’m an ungrateful horrible bitch of a mother.

And then I remember three fundamental truths. I am human. I am doing the best I can. And he is just a child. I will get through the day. God willing, I will get another shot at parenting tomorrow. It’s all gonna be ok. And just like Newton’s Third Law of Motion states, his unacceptable behavior will be replaced by an equally and opposing sweet, tender and loving state of being. And just like that, I can forget why I thought he was unlikable….until he dumps an entire jar of oregano all over the floor just because. Or when he empties out my pantry for the umpteenth time leaving a trail of canned and dried goods from the kitchen to the living room. I know it is him exploring and learning, which is why we let it happen, but after episode number 13 on any given day, I’d like to put a lock on the lazy susan. But let’s be realistic, that would be met with a tantrum of tantrums and would only be a battle won, not the war. I pick and choose my parenting battles carefully. The word NO is important. It’s overuse will make it meaningless. I can’t have that. No, the war is with myself, not my child. It is about me finding peace and grace in the maddening mundane chaos. I have gone white water rafting in number 5 conditions. I have hiked mountains. I have performed for audiences of thousands. This, my friend, is much harder.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid (who is, indeed, NOT an asshole) is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Thanks for reading. Xo

The Truth Of The Matter

I am sat on a plane flying solo. I’m headed to Florida to take care of some business. I’ll be away from O for 3 days. I’ve done it before. In fact, you might remember, I wrote a blog post about it. I thought leaving him this time would be easier for the sheer fact that I have done it before. But this time it was harder. Much harder. I savored everything about the day we spent together yesterday. I held him tighter when I put him to bed last night.

Recent events in our world make me want to hold him tight and not let go. As if the mass shooting in Orlando was not horrific enough, I then hear about the 2 year old who was snatched up by an alligator at a Walt Disney World resort. His body recovered almost 24 hours later. The nightmarish details are haunting me. A little boy like O. Same age. No doubt, just as inquisitive and just as obsessed with water. Like most any 2 year old boy.

I’ve been to that resort. I’ve been on that beach front. Not in a million years would I ever think that an alligator would be something I’d have to think about. And at night, you would never have seen such a threat. Not even if it was right in front of you. I lived in Florida. I’ve seen many alligators. In my opinion, this wasn’t negligence on the parents part at all. Something like that would be off of anyone’s radar in that setting. I remember back in the 70’s and early 80’s when my parents took us to stay at Disney World, there was actually swimming allowed in that same body of water. We used to water ski in the adjacent Bay Lake. I’m telling you, I would have thought nothing of O wading in the edge of that water. But yet, the threat became a reality for that family. I can’t even wrap my head around the horror.

As a parent, our instinct is to shield, protect and hold tight. At times like these, the instinct is to hold tighter. I have a friend, who in response to the latest gun violence, said she wanted to keep her family in a bubble. I get it. But, of course, it is an impossibility. At some point we have to loosen the grip. At some point we have to hope that the example we set for our child will serve him as he makes his way in the world. Eventually, years from now, God willing, he will soar all on his own, hopefully towards great things and profound happiness. He won’t always be able to hold my hand and I won’t always be able to protect him.

One of the hardest things to swallow about the tragedies of this week, is that, while some tragedies, like the one in Orlando, are man made and preventable, some tragedies are a force of nature and completely unpredictable. You might say, well it could have been avoided. Well, perhaps, if the parents were holding their child tightly, not letting him explore his surroundings. And even then maybe not. But I don’t parent that way. With a watchful eye and often at a small distance, we let O explore. We believe it is important for his development and his intellect. I can tell you, honestly, we could have been in the same scenario as that family from Nebraska. I have cried real tears for those parents. My heart truly aches for them.

I guess the crazy thing to take away from all of this is that no day is promised. We are not entitled to anything more than the moment we are in. As a singleton, I always tried to embrace that ideology. But as a parent, it is a tough idea to digest. We want everything for our child and that includes a bright future. But none of it is guaranteed. That is the truth of the matter. You can scream and shout, you can fight the gun lobby, you can restrict your child from the world, you can hold them so tight they can’t move or you can choose to do nothing. We all have a choice. What we don’t have is a guarantee. Yes, that is the truth.

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 God bless.

Raising A Son To Revere Strong Women

This week I am barraged with stories in the news that make me reflect on how we as a society view women. And I am taken aback. I am perplexed. Saddened. Annoyed. Worried. You would have to live in a hole not to be aware of the Stanford freshman who was convicted of raping an unconscious woman behind a dumpster and was sentenced to only 6 months in jail followed by probation. The crime and details of the trial were abhorrent. Then his father wrote a letter of support to the court that was completely dismissive of his son’s behavior. He actually says that a prison sentence is “A steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action.” He is clearly oblivious. It isn’t overly shocking that his son chose the abusive path he did. I think, what are we teaching our children about respect? Equality? And where are we going wrong?

I look at the headlines regarding our presumptive democratic nominee for President, Hillary Clinton. It’s not just a lack of respect, but actual hate that swarms around her, taking shots at her every turn. The woman has a coat of armor thicker than any man I’ve ever seen. If she was a man, it is a coat of armor that would be admired and revered. But she’s a woman. So she’s a she-devil, not to be trusted, a bitch. It’s the double standard magnified a hundred times. And both men AND women buy into it. I ask you, What are we teaching our kids? Are women not allowed to be strong? As a woman, don’t you want to be smart, strong, and an equal? And, if you are a man, don’t you want a partner who is strong, capable, and your equal? And if you don’t, why not? There is something wrong with the message we are accepting in our society about women and their worth. And I’m taking a stab in the dark here, but it seems to me, the message is perpetuated by those threatened by strong women.

Is it possible that many in our society, men and women alike, are more comfortable with the traditional roles that men and women take on? The woman standing beside her man, supporting him from the sidelines. It’s a non threatening picture, isn’t it? Maybe the dominant female figure is just too uncomfortable for folks. So when a woman puts on a pantsuit, speaks her mind and decides to run for president, it messes up our feng shui. Or when a woman gets sexually assaulted on a college campus (while unconscious) there is sympathy for the rapist, because “his life will never be the one that he dreamed about and worked so hard to achieve.” In what world is that thought process ok? What about the victim? To be clear, I am talking about the woman. What about the impact this horrific act has had on her life? There are still people who believe, however quietly, that women who have been raped, have somehow “asked” for it. During the trial the poor girl was asked what she wore to the party that night. The fact that the question was even posed is proof we are a long long way from gender equality. It disgusts me.

So as a mother of a boy, what can I do to instill a sense of decency, respect and understanding in my child? How do we teach him to treat women as equals, yet educate him on the nuances of females? I’m talking about those minute, and sometimes huge, differences that, at times, make us women seem like another species all together. Equals, but opposites. It seems pretty straight forward in theory. Certainly no mother intends on raising a rapist. So where does it go wrong?

Even at O’s young age of two, people have said in his presence, “Boys will be boys!” That sentiment will surely grow and follow him. It is up to us to define that for him and keep him in balance. I see the way little boys play on the playground and how they are encouraged to be aggressive and tough. It’s just sort of accepted. I don’t love it. There is a sense of entitlement drilled into children in our country these days. There seems to be a lack of the word “NO” in many children’s everyday life. Maybe this is where it begins. I want it, so I should have it. I want it, so I’ll take it. It happens on the playground and I see, many times, it go undetected or completely dismissed. Boys will be boys.

I don’t know what lies ahead in our country. I shudder to think of the possibilities. But this lack of acceptance and complete disregard for other people is just not ok with me. It shouldn’t be ok with anyone. What can we do? As parents we can invoke the change we want to see in our society…with our own child. Sometimes parenting requires the word “No.” We need to love our children enough to say “No, that’s not yours.” Or “No. You can’t do that.” My two year old already knows the phrase “That is unacceptable behavior.” I fear many adults have forgotten it.

Mostly, we need to love our son and teach him the dignity of the body, and how to live through disappointment and confusion. We need to teach our son how to navigate confusing feelings, and how to separate feelings from action. We need to teach him how to communicate and listen. We need to define for him what it is to be a man, because we clearly can’t leave that to the media or public figures. We need to impress upon him that his worth doesn’t come from what he has and takes. O’s biggest influence will be watching how his father treats his mother. And how his mother can be a strong woman who is respected and loved by her husband for her strength and capability. How female strength is not something to be threatened by, or something to be squelched, but rather something to seek in a life partner.

I have a feeling in the coming months leading up to the national election, the attack on the strong female figure will be unlike anything we have ever seen. The language, I’m sure, will be base, crass and dismissive. I highly doubt the buffoon with the bad comb over will choose a different fighting style. I can only imagine what the fallout will be. If you think that kind of sexism on a national platform has no bearing on the way men view women or how women view themselves, you are kidding yourself. Somewhere in the ignorant mind of some entitled teenager, the words spewed by an entitled demagogue, will validate his delusions. If you think it’s just about Hillary, it’s not. It’s about all of us.

I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll be holding my breath till November. Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is certain 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. Xo

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

Turning Two

You would think after having two years experience (that’s 730 days) of watching my child grow and develop, I would have come to terms with him inevitably getting older. I have not. I have made strides in the right direction (acceptance), but my heart still aches a bit with each inch and milestone he conquers.

O’s second birthday is approaching, and if I let myself breathe that all in, it could seriously knock the wind out of me. My husband has been asking me what’s wrong with me lately. He can tell something is “off.” I keep saying it’s my stomach. I just don’t feel right. Well, when something is bothering me, that’s where the stress goes. Right to my gut. I’ve not been purposely lying to him. I actually didn’t realize the correlation until I started writing this post. But that’s what’s “got” me. My baby is growing up and there is no way to stop the clock.

That’s not to say that I want to actually stop the clock. Of course not. I want to see him grow and thrive and become the man he is meant to be. It’s just the pangs of loss that hit me occasionally. Sometimes gently and sometimes like a smack across the face. Like now, as this 2 year marker approaches. I understand how precious this whole process is. The act of raising, caring for, and unconditionally loving this being that was created with such love. It is awesome and truly the best thing I have ever done in my life. And it’s all flying by so quickly. I believe this is one of the big reasons why people have more children. The feeling is so wonderful, at times, euphoric. Of course you want to make it last. So you have another. And maybe another. Unless you can’t. Unless it maybe just isn’t in the cards.

Ah, and there it is. The crux of the matter. I didn’t really think about O’s birthday coinciding with the end of our “have another baby” project. But the months have passed and with each one came a reminder that I’m not going to have another child. I promised I wouldn’t be upset. I promised. But as I sit here wiping away my tears, I’m finding my promise is proving to be empty, however well intentioned. I won’t let myself spiral into a dark place over it, however. I have far far too much to be thankful for to let that happen. But I think my not allowing sadness over it was a mistake. That’s a ridiculous notion, really. Not allowing sadness? It’s just silly. As if my heart has a choice. Ha.

So I’ll go on, filling my my mind and days with work and projects. I’ll spin more plates than usual, no doubt. But I will be aware of my particular sadness and honor it. And I suppose, if I need to cry, well then, I’ll cry. At least I won’t be denying my feelings. If you read my blog, you know that I believe everything happens the way it is supposed to. And I don’t believe in regrets. I believe in lessons. But this advanced maternal age mommy wishes perhaps she didn’t wait quite so long to have a child. Maybe there would have been time for another? A tough lesson to swallow in hindsight. But then, perhaps another child was never in the cards. You can really think it to death. Who really has time for that?

So as my little O gets ready to turn two, we will celebrate his time so far on this earth and the immense joy he brings us….with a Sesame Street theme, no less. We are having a combined birthday with his second cousin, Nora, who was born two days after him. Lots of Elmo and Abby Caddaby! Alphabet cookies, crayons and Cookie Monster fudge! I’ll take lots of pics for a fun party blog. And I won’t forget for a moment all that I have.

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

Toddler Madness

There are certain days my patience runs thin. My son is approaching his second birthday. He is in the beginning of the throws of what I am calling toddler madness. This might prove to be the hardest period for us, as his communication skills are still sparse. He says words, yes. But his ability to actually convey specific wants is unhoned, especially the more frustrated he gets. My failure to understand him just adds to his frustration and before I know it, he is in full on the floor tantrum mode. There is no reason or logic to this. It is absolute madness. Hence, my categorical name for this period we are forging into full speed ahead.

Rationally, I know there is usually some reason for these outbursts. He most likely isn’t even aware himself what it might be. And the speculation is vast. It could be that he is hungry. Thirsty. Perhaps his two year molars are giving him a hard time that day. Maybe his shirt is uncomfortable. Maybe….the list goes on. Or, where the real madness comes in, the outburst has no cause. It is not the reaction to anything at all, except the moment hits him and he decides to throw himself on the floor, kick and scream a little, and then, perhaps, get on with his day. Come to think of it…I feel like doing that sometimes. Maybe it’s not so crazy, after all. Hmm.

My pediatrician suggests no parental reaction. She always says, “Don’t encourage any behavior you don’t like by reacting to it.” I’m actually pretty good at being calm in the midst of his storms. Most of the time. It’s the days when the outbursts are mixed with incessant whining, that tax me the most. It’s hard not to react to the whining, though I give it my best shot. At home, I actually walk into another room. I also redirect his attention when he is calm enough. It becomes the hardest to deal with in the car. Both of us trapped in a small space. I can only turn the Hamilton soundtrack up so much.

Mothers who’ve been there…mommys on the same battlefield, I ask you. What do YOU do? And if you had a child who never threw tantrums or whined, keep it to yourself. I don’t even want to know that children like that exist. There isn’t enough Skinny Pop or Two Buck Chuck to get me over that. Thanks. I know every kid is different, but there must be some common thread for how to proactively deal with this “stage of development.” My saving grace at this point is that I am, in fact, an older mom and I have a degree of patience I never would have had 20 years ago. I’m not saying younger Moms can’t have patience. I just know I didn’t have it when I was younger.

The most ironic thing about this stage of “toddler madness,” is how fleeting the madness can be. I can have a morning like today, where the crabby-ness, whining and foot stomping outbursts seemed to have such succession it almost became rhythmic. And then 20 minutes before his nap, my child decides to lovingly stop time. He sits next to me on the couch, lays his head on my shoulder and lets me stroke his hair. For a whole 20 minutes! He may have actually purred. Just when I was ready to give up for the day, he indulges me in his sweet side. Sneaky. Unpredictable. All part of the glorious wonderful madness that is only just beginning.

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 so much for reading! Xo

A Mother’s Day

I’ve never been one for holidays created by greeting card companies. Valentine’s Day is the worst. My husband and I have vowed to never make a big deal of such a day. We believe all our days should be reflective of our love and commitment, and not for one set day because Hallmark dictates it. I know Mother’s Day falls under the same sort of quasi-holiday category, but I have to admit, I feel a bit different about it. To give it equal due, I feel different about Father’s Day, too. So hear me out.

I am not looking for what the advertisers or the media suggest I want. There is no bauble, gadget, or knick knack I am longing for. I don’t want all sorts of money spent on me. I don’t want a day at the spa or a day all to myself to be pampered. I don’t want a weekend away, a maid service to clean the whole house, or some cheesy overpriced greeting card written by some stranger. It’s so much simpler than that. What I would like to celebrate and have acknowledged, is the fact that I try every single day not to ruin the amazing child that by some natural miracle ended up in my care. I’d like a Mother’s Day.

What is that you ask? Well, hold onto your yoga pants. It’s a day where I can sleep uninterrupted for 8+ hours (without having to go to bed at 8pm the night before). I can take a long luxurious bath instead of a quick shower. I would be able to have a bowel movement…all by myself….in peace…uninterupted. Without Thomas the Tank Engine. Or whilst reading The Little Engine That Could. It’s a day that for a whole 24 hours I am NOT the person who touches or cleans up another person’s feces. (To be fair to my husband, he takes on the dirty diapers like a champ when he’s around.) And, most importantly, it’s a day that my husband showers me with words of encouragement and love from his heart. Oh, and he makes me breakfast, lunch and dinner. Now these last two requests actually happen on a regular basis in our home, but they are such a nice part of our day that it only makes sense to include them.

Now I realize that as simple as this day seems in theory, the actual execution of these requests may prove more than difficult. (Lucky for me, my husband is a rock star!) But, perhaps it might seem impossible for some mates. Hence, the bauble or some fancy high priced item. The mate thinks, “how can she be upset with me if I give her _______?” And she won’t be. I mean who gets mad at jewelry or a Coach bag? The retailers are surely happy. Hubby is happy because he dodged a mega parenting bullet. But most likely, it isn’t what she truly wants on this day. If she is anything like me, it most certainly is not.

So Hallmark, Zales, Pandora and all you other retailers and tall tale fabricators….you aren’t on my radar. I could care less about what you have to offer. I don’t know that any woman who stays home everyday with her toddler really wants what you are peddling. As I looked around the library today at story time, I saw the faces of other mothers that seemed to need what I am in need of. We all most likely just want to remember who we actually are. To have a moment to acknowledge our own worth unattached to the non stop job of caregiving. To have a few moments to think of/and for ourselves, all the while knowing that our most precious possession is being cared for by our most precious partner. It’s that simple.

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. Hope you get to have a rockin Mother’s Day. Xo thanks for reading!

The Way Of Life

I lost my Aunt Anneke this week. It wasn’t sudden. She was battling cancer for some time. But still, the finality of any passing startles me, nonetheless. I am grieving. Not so much for her, as I know she is pain free and was most certainly welcomed into heaven with open arms. She was a wonderful, strong, loving woman. Her full bodied, lasting hugs were her trademark that I will cherish in my memories of her. I am grieving for my uncle who was left here on this earth to do the unimaginable. To go on without her. It breaks my heart.

It’s funny that I should have such a bond with this man. He came into my life when I was in my twenties. He had been estranged from my mother and most of our family for all of my young life. His acute alcoholism kept him away from us for years. After he had gotten sober for good, he came back into our lives and I’m so grateful. Oh, the stories he would tell me over a cup of coffee at my parent’s dining room table! I just adore him despite the fact that we could not be more different. Our views on pretty much everything are diametrically opposed. Yup, everything. But his heart is true, his words are real, and he is just my Uncle Ronnie. The fact that he has a special place in his heart for my little O just makes me love him all the more. And now he is alone without his wife, his partner. It is the way of life. He would tell you that. But it is unthinkable.

The landscape of our family keeps changing. My parents, aunts and uncles are in their seventies and eighties. Several have passed already. Actual distance of siblings and cousins has created emotional distance, as well. It is what happens as you get older, I suppose. I guess I just wish it wasn’t happening quite this soon, for O’s sake. I rationalize, as an older mom, that my family is also older. But he is never going to know, or at least remember, many of the family I love. It is then, that which is understood in my head is not so accepted in my heart.

I don’t believe I actually have a point to make with all this. I think I just wanted to talk about my family. I appreciate you letting me do just that. I know this isn’t exactly one of my typical mommy blog posts. But then being a new mom at 46 isn’t exactly typical either. Having a child late in life comes with all sorts of pros and cons. It is so odd watching family become elderly (or succumb to age) while I witness all the newness my son experiences. It is the biggest bag of mixed emotions I’ve known yet. Immense joy colored with the occasional stroke of sadness and grief. I’m sure it is the way of life for most older moms. It was certainly something I didn’t think about before becoming a mother. I suppose, thank God there is the joy. Such joy!

Thank you for reading and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Xo

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