Yogi Mommy

With a dance background, the physical aspects of yoga have come quite easily to me. Although I am not quite as flexible as I was before the birth of O, I maintain a level of flexibility that is well above average. I stretch every day, knowing that one day, if I don’t use it, I’ll lose it. Which leads me to the reason I began taking yoga class. It’s funny, I started going to yoga because I wanted to feel more in shape. But it has done more for my mindset and psyche than anything else. And strangely, it helps me to be a better Mom. That hour of time that is “just for me” pays off ten fold in every other area of my life.

More than anything else I do for myself in any given week (which, let’s face it, isn’t a lot these days) this one special hour is personal and parenting gold. It fuels me with positivity and calm. It lets me, unapologetically, breathe for myself. For a whole hour. Before I had O, I would not have understood the importance of that. I guess I took the idea of “breathing for myself” for granted. Before O, extreme self care was instinctual. But becoming a mother has changed all my instincts. My first thought these days is to take care of O. What can I provide for him? Are his needs being met? But what I have learned, 21 months into this parenting journey, is that caring for myself is equally important. Now, I understand the concept of “breathing for myself,” not just in the context of being a mother, or a woman, but of being human. It is not a luxury. It is a necessity.

Oh it sounds so La Dee Da, Organic Crunchy Granola. So be it. I don’t care. It works. I don’t need all the massages, manicures and pedicures I once indulged in. I don’t need the vapid shopping sprees or endless “me” time. I need an hour. An hour of mindful meditative physical commitment.

It’s simple once I get there. It’s just that sometimes the “getting there” isn’t so easy. Working it around my husband’s work day, getting dinner started, feeding the baby, etc. It can be a bit of an obstacle course just getting out of the house. But they are hoops I’m happy to jump through to get to my slice of positive pie. In truth, it isn’t that tough, we just don’t have it down yet. It disturbs our regular routine, so it seems like a whirlwind when I leave, but it will soon become part of our rhythm.

As I see and feel the benefits of this magic hour, I now realize I don’t just want it. I need it. I swear, it gives me a sense of peace and strength to get through the week. It gets me right in the head. It aligns my body. It wakes up parts of my body (and soul) that I have been neglecting. I have more patience. I am more creative. I have more to give both my son AND my husband. I am a better mom, a better wife and, dare I say, a better person. All because of yoga! It makes me laugh, because it sounds so silly, but anyone who practices yoga knows the serious life benefits it possesses.

To be honest, I’m sure it doesn’t have to be Yoga. You could meditate. You could hike. You could cycle. Whatever floats your boat. For me, yoga is a perfect fit. I would never turn down a solo nature hike, but I just can’t make that work on a weekly basis with our schedules. So yoga it is. And I could not be happier. I guess if there was one thing I would want to share with a new mother it would be the idea that self care is not selfish. It seems obvious. But to a new mother, it isn’t. It just isn’t.

I’ll leave you with something my yoga teacher says at the end of class. I wish you peace in your thoughts, peace in your words, and peace in your heart. Until next time, be good to yourself, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up. Thanks for reading. Namaste! Xo

Touching Hearts

“The passion of touch warms the heart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worried Mommy

I have to be honest with you. I worry about my child. There is this little nagging voice in my head that rears itself every once in a while…and it happened again today. I was at story time today at the library. It wasn’t going too well for O. He didn’t want to sit and listen. The craft was WAY beyond him (He’d rather eat the glue stick) and he was yawning before we even got there. I should have known it wasn’t going to go smoothly. Sure enough, it proved to be a difficult outing. I know there are days like this. But some days his lack of engagement and conformity fill me with worry.

I wonder how much is his personality. Everything since his birth, has been on his time and his terms. Heck, he didn’t come out on his own. We had to go in there and get him! Every milestone so far has been accomplished when HE was good and ready. OR… is there perhaps some sort of problem or delay? At this age (20 months) it can be very confusing. I only notice things when he is around other children. Because normally, I have nothing to compare him to. And I know, I know, we aren’t supposed to compare our children. But it just happens. You see other kids who are around the same age and you are wondering why do they sit still and listen to the story? Why do they follow directions? Why won’t my child? There are days when he does….but they are few. I always feel like socializing is one step forward and two steps back, with my O. He is also VERY attached to Mommy. Which makes socialization that much harder. He will engage with me happily, but he has very little interest in new people….even other children. Maybe I’m doing it all wrong?

I am trying to assess where my worry regarding O is coming from. Is it the winter doldrums? Is it us being cooped up in the house these past weeks due to sickness? Is there any merit to my worry? Does every mom worry? Do moms of advanced maternal age worry more? And am I worried more because he is my only child? Already pangs of guilt are entering my mind because he doesn’t have a sibling. Not for lack of trying to give him one. But, thus far, it doesn’t seem to be in the cards. I can see the links on this worry chain will continue to accumulate if I don’t get it in check.

I was telling my husband the other night, that being at home with O is by far, the hardest job I have ever had….and the most important. I just don’t want to screw it up. And yet, everyday, I feel that somehow I am letting this child down. You know my tagline. “Behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.” It’s soooo true. And some weeks, it’s truer than others. And it’s so hard not to be hard on myself. I feel like it’s all on me sometimes. What if I miss something? What if he is having a delay and I don’t get him the help he needs? It’s my fault. Maybe I baby him too much? Well, I know that’s true.

You know, I really feel that I owe O everything. In some Miracle of Life creation, this glorious soul picked us to be his parents! The joy and meaning he brings to both my husband and I is beyond anything, I think, either of us could have ever imagined. It’s powerful and its profound. It is heaven made. But.. we also have to live day to day on the earth, with our feet on the ground, taking each step, one foot in front of the other. I think I just solved my own problem. It is so so easy to let the magnitude of this job, that has been entrusted to us, take over. It is, at times, overwhelming. But our child is who he is. It is already determined. Will it all reveal itself in time? Yes. Will we deal with each hurdle and each triumph, as they come…one day at a time? Of course, because that’s what we as parents do. The worry is futile. It is wasted energy.

I thank you from the bottom of my humble and sometimes worrisome heart. Confiding in you has let me find my way off the latest parental ledge. It’s not easy stuff. Sometimes having someone to bounce things off of, be it a real person or a cyber friend, makes all the difference. Knowing we aren’t alone is everything.

Until next time, thanks for reading, and remember (it’s the TRUTH) behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Xo

Out Sick

I’m writing this week’s post from my bed. I’m SICK. All Caps! My amazing husband is holding the fort down with our little O, who is also sick. Occupational hazard of a SAHM..we tend to get sick when our little ones are. This virus has knocked me down for the count, though. Yes, I went to the Dr….or should I say “Urgent Care,” where I was seen by a P.A. Who told me essentially, I wasn’t sick enough yet to prescribe anything for me. That I should ride it out and see if my body could fight it on its own. That’s fair enough, but with my history of upper respitory infections, I don’t share that hope. So, I didn’t actually go to my Dr. per say. Silly me wasted my time seeing a physician’s assistant with a point to make, who didn’t believe I know my body well enough to know when I’m faced with more than a chest cold. Two days later I find myself wheezing, coughing up my lungs and praying this bout doesn’t turn into pneumonia. I’m prone to pneumonia. I told her that. Good times.

Several nights ago O had such a high fever we wound up at the emergency room. It was scary high. After calling the Ped on call (because it was a weekend AND a holiday) we were directed to go straight to the ER. So, of course, a P.A. sees him. O has a bit of “white coat syndrome,” after remembering the shots he got on a recent visit. He freaks out whenever he starts getting prodded and poked. Which at this hospital seemed to happen repeatedly. First by triage, then by the first P.A. By the time the second P.A. checked his ears he had been crying for over 30 minutes. She thought the ears looked a little red, so she said he would be treated for an ear infection. But he had no other signs of an ear infection beyond the fever. No tugging on his ear, no sensitivity when I touched them….I wasn’t convinced. I asked her if his ears could be red because he had been so upset. Well, yes, she said. But they prescribed a 10 day antibiotic for him, regardless. 10 days of antibiotics seemed a bit heavy for a baby who may not have actually had an ear infection. So, if we gave him the antibiotic and he didn’t have an ear infection, he would be ingesting medicine he really didn’t need, lessening the effectiveness of it when he really DID need it. Follow my logic? Considering the cough he has now, it was not an ear infection, but a chest cold….that he seems to be fighting better than mommy. I am confidemt he’ll recover because he finally saw his pediatrician, who we know and love. It made me wonder what the point of going to the ER was? It mostly just upset the baby…and they were basically grasping at straws to decipher what was ailing O. I suppose it made Mommy and Daddy feel like we were being proactive? It alleviated the feeling of helplessness that takes you over when you are a parent and your child is burning up with fever.

I know, I know, antibiotics are the essential devil. We over use them. And that overuse is causing certain virus’ to become unpenetratable. But sometimes you just know when you need them. And sometimes they don’t make sense. What ever happened to the patient being equally responsible for their diagnosis? I guess this doctor patient trust thing is a two way street. I think I’m done with ER’s and Urgent Care places for awhile. I’m on a rant, cause I’m mad that I am sick. I’m upset that Oliver is sick. I’m annoyed at the lack of quality urgent healthcare there is in our area even with great health insurance. It’s defeating. And depressing.

I feel like the healthcare situation is only going to get worse before it gets better in this country. Too many people have made too much money gouging the American people with their high premiums and out of sight drug expenses. Those people aren’t going to let the healthcare cash cow go too easily. Doctors are complaining about all the new paperwork getting in the way of patient care. (Not sure why you can’t do both?). But the big question is, what does that mean for all of us? Damned if I know. I’m just an achy delirious Mom today who just needs to feel better. Pronto.

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

Here It Comes

Well, there is snow on the skylight. I’m under a faux fur blanket and my luxurious long underwear are certainly getting some “wear time.” I’ve been avoiding writing this post, like I do many…but this one in particular seems to be my hardest thus far. You see, I’d like to lie to you. I’d like to fill the screen with fibs and fantasy. But that wasn’t our agreement. No. I promised to honestly examine what it is like to be a new mother of advanced maternal age. So here it goes….or should I say, here it comes?

No one really wants to talk about it. Certainly not me. How I have escaped it up til now, I don’t know. Some women deal with it much earlier, so I’m thankful at least for that. Oh, God, Mary, just say it! Ok! Ok! Perimenopause. There I’ve said it. In simpler terms it means the beginning of “the change.” Right now all it means to me is night sweats at certain times of the month. Icky, cruddy, soaking pajama top night sweats. Night sweats suck. Just getting that out there. But for some it can include many more symptoms like daily hot flashes, loss of sex drive, pain during intercourse…among other fun things. Ugh. Good times, eh?

I am actually having a difficult time accepting this upcoming change in my body. I don’t like it. My doctor says I can still get pregnant, so that isn’t what is bothering me. It’s just the fact that finally my body is telling me that I am getting older. I always felt like I could defy it, at least within reason. But this onset can’t be avoided with clean eating, more crunches at the gym, or more miles logged on the treadmill. It can’t be hidden by creams, serums, or Botox. It’s the real deal. It’s the beginning of a bridge taking you to the next phase of your life. As much as I talk about wanting to age gracefully, I feel like I’m on the one side of that bridge….resisting going forward….but the bridge is actually a moving walkway…it doesn’t stop because I wish it so. It is just like Time always proves to be…relentless. There is no spanner to throw in this wheel to stop it spinning. It is all how nature intended. I just thought Mother Nature and I had a special understanding. Ha.

Yesterday at story time at our local library I looked around at the other adults in the room. It was either young moms or youngish grandmothers. It occurred to me that I fall somewhere in between these groups of women. I made friends with some of the moms, and realized that, although we can relate through our children, I can’t actually relate to them on a personal level. Not really. And the same goes for the older women there. I find myself on my own plane. Running after my toddler waiting for a hot flash to zap me. It’s bizzaro world. Does that make any sense?

I know, I know. I’m ungrateful. I’m superficial. I’m whining about something that happens to every woman, eventually. How dare I be annoyed at Mother Nature when she has really been so good to me. I should be so thankful that I am healthy. That I rocked a bikini up until I had O at 44! That I have escaped so many things that can afflict us. And mostly, I should be grateful that the powers of life, let me conceive and give birth to a beautiful healthy son. And I am!! So very grateful. I’m just whining…and maybe feeling some of those mood swings that can also hit you during this time. Most of all, I’m feeling sorry for myself. Like my wise Mother-in law tells me, time and time again…this too shall pass.

Until next time, I’ll keep battling through my own personal Bikram Bedtime. 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

Deck The Yard With Pots of Holly

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

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

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

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

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

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

From Gucci To Gerber

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

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