Flying Solo

I am sitting in the airport awaiting my flight to West Palm Beach. I am flying solo. That isn’t just a cute quip. I am actually by myself. No husband. No child. They are staying home, having a boys weekend, holding the fort down. I will be readying my house in Florida for my snowbird renter. A quick jaunt, but I’ll be away, nonetheless. I don’t know why I feel the need to give you the details of why I am going. Maybe I don’t want you to think I’m leaving my child for a wild girl’s get away or an “all about me” spa weekend. Although, I wouldn’t judge you if YOU went away for a little fun in the sun or some R&R. I’d probably be jealous. Ha. I know I’d be jealous. Always digressing.

The reason I am sharing this with you, is because this is significant for me. It will be the first time I will spend a night (let alone two nights) away from my O. I have been with him everyday and every night since the day he was born. I understood that I would be away from him when I made these arrangements. At times, I even looked forward to the little “break.” But the moment I had to walk away from him was harder than I expected. I’m just being honest. I’d like to say I walked away with the wind in my hair and the smell of freedom calling me. But instead, I felt like I was leaving a chunk of my own heart in New England. Say it….”Get a life, Mary!” Well, for 18 months and 4 days, he has been our life. Perhaps I am more of a Mommy than I realized.

It’s funny, because I keep telling my husband that I am ready to leave O with Grammy and be whisked away to Puerto Rico or some un-named island in the Caribbean at a moment’s notice. He is the one that is skeptical of leaving O overnight anywhere. He feels he is too young still for that. I tell him I would have no problem leaving O in her quite capable hands for a little weekend (or more) holiday with my husband. But, now I wonder……is that the truth? Could I stand being away from him for that long? Well, I guess I will see how I do first with two nights.

It’s not like I am worried about O. I am sure he will be quite happy to have Daddy take over the reigns of his day. My beloved is MORE than capable. He is truly Daddy of the Year. He will be silly and say things like, “I don’t know where his clothes are.” Or, ” I don’t know what he eats for lunch!” But the truth is, he can take care of O just as well (or better) than I can. Yes, haters…my husband is amazing in all ways. Suck on that.

My trip has only begun and I am missing both my boys something fierce. Logically, I know it’s a quick and necessary trip. I’ll be home before I know it. I was telling my husband on the way to the airport, that it’s actually good for me to go away on my own. It’s important for me to re-visit my independence every now and then. I truly believe that. It was a huge part of who I was before O. And I’m sure it will be again, when he is a bit older. But the pang in my heart when I left them still shocked me. After a life of travel and adventures, home is where I want to be. It is who I am now. It is my happy place. And boy, do I feel lucky to say that.

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

It Is What It Is

Well, I don’t know about you, but this holiday weekend has left me completely wiped out. We hosted Thanksgiving dinner for 10 people and a dog, had my parents visiting with us all week, and had our bathroom remodel project commence. Well, just about. There are a few things the contractors still need to attend to. Getting them back here is going to be a headache for sure. Ugh. I am digressing, as usual. Suffice it to say, I’d like to take a long long bath in our new tub. That’s a great idea.

Of course, all the happenings I just listed were all fraught with bumps and hiccups. Isn’t everything? I kept the phrase, “It is what it is,” going around in my head like a mantra. Cause it’s just the truth. Nothing turns out like you wish it to. You can plan your Thanksgiving dinner for 4pm, but, if you are us, it’s more like 6pm. You can try your hardest to please people, but, if you are me, you usually wind up disappointed at the response. And you can expect a certain level of workmanship from a craftsman, but if you are a perfectionist like me, their work most likely will come up short. I sound like I’m whining. I’m really not. It’s just an exhausted response…but in my heart of hearts I know it is what it is.

The same goes for our project sibling. No success with conception to date. While the “trying” is fun, it’s also exhausting. After two months of no bun in the oven, I am getting the feeling that it may just not happen. I promised myself I would be ok with it. But, of course, I feel the pang of disappointment, even if I am keeping it in check. I think it’s harder to see the look of disappointment on my husband’s face. It’s was so easy last time, I think he thought it would happen just as quickly the second time around. But I know that my body is 2 years older than the last time. I can feel the difference in my body, though no one might be able to see it. Do any of you gals in your 40’s or higher know what I’m talking about? It’s so strange. It’s like aging starts to accelerate from within. It’s totally weird. So I truly leave it up to God and the Universe. It is what it is. And it will be what it will be.

I find the lack of my ability to control the outcome oddly comforting. I’m glad it’s not up to me. I get to sit back and wait and see what happens. I get to have Faith. I get to Trust in something greater than myself. I get to say, “It is what it is” and mean it. And I am reminded everyday that I am not pregnant, I am so so lucky to have the beautiful child I do have.

Until next time, enjoy your left overs and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up. I’m going to soak in a hot tub with a glass of Pinot Noir. Thanks so much for reading xo.

What To Tell Our Children About The World

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

40 Blissful Minutes

I am the first one to say I don’t know how to relax. I am always “doing” something. Shamefully, I admit, I sometimes tackle not just two, but three or four projects at a time. Like at the same time. Not the best strategy always, but I usually have a lot of pots on the stove, so to speak. Yesterday was no exception.

It was around 2:15pm. Smack in the middle of O’s nap time. I was finishing up a project I was working on for Christmas and starting to make a new Chicken Bratwurst recipe with a warm kartoffelsalat for the side. The contractor who is renovating our bathrooms shows up to do a faucet install. I figured O would most likely sleep through any noise, as he should have been deeply down by this point in time. Boy, was I wrong. One creek up the staircase and O was UP with all capitals and a very loud whine. Our very observant contractor points out, “Hey, the baby’s crying.” Really? Huh….Gee, I didn’t hear the ear piercing cry….thanks for letting me know. I didn’t say that….what I said was, “yeah.”

I went into O’s room. He had only slept for an hour. There was no way he was ready to actually get up. I kept the light off and picked him up out of his crib and went to the rocker. The whole weight of his body draped over my shoulder. I sat down and started to gently rock and sing to him. What happened next was such a great gift and it truly brought joyful tears to my eyes. O fell asleep in my arms. Now you might think, big deal. But my O hasn’t slept in my arms for any real length of time since he was an infant. This was 40 minutes of absolute angelic bliss. A couple times he stirred only to look up at me with the purest love in his eyes only to then fall back asleep. It was heaven on earth.

I wish that 40 minutes could have gone on and on. I would have left every project and pot to boil over. Nothing mattered to me in that moment, but THAT moment. What a lesson in simply being there. It is a lesson I needed refreshing in, especially lately. I let myself become crazed with tasks again. I feel foolish and well, exhausted. Time to take it easy again. Oh my little O is the best teacher!

The only hard thing to swallow about my blissful 40 minutes was that when those times were a regular occurrence, when O was a newborn, I feel like I didn’t enjoy them. At least not the way I would have had I not had the post partum blues. It made me sad to think I missed a lot of that time. I just couldn’t get my head on straight then. I won’t beat myself up about it anymore. It is what it is. And I thank God I got through it. But I can’t pretend I didn’t miss some really special moments. I guess I should be grateful that I got to fully savor something so wonderful now. And I am……so grateful.

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

At The End Of The Rainbow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

A few weeks ago I did another thing I always said I would NEVER do as a mom. I have my reasons, as I’m sure all women do. The fact that the summer heat was breathing down my neck played a huge part in the decision. Okay okay enough with the lead up….just spit it out already! I cut my long hair. I now sport a shoulder length bob. Half way to soccer mom.

Why would I go and do such a thing? Well….let’s be fair. I wasn’t exactly “doing” my long hair on a regular basis. In fact, the number of times I “styled” it since O was born is a very low digit number. And when I actually did (which took forever) I would wind up putting it in a mommy bun or pony tail anyway. Talk about a waste of time. I just don’t have an hour or more to waste a day.

Another factor is, as I said, the summer heat. I needed that mane off my neck! Too much hair. Too much making me HOT! I started to get angry at my hair. That’s not a good place to be. And yes, I could have continually thrown it up in the Mommy bun…but just drying it was taking too much time. And to be the woman with the wet hair in the Mommy bun seemed bleaker to me than a mommy bob. The bob also seems relatively fashionable these days as I look at celebrities on the magazine covers while I wait in line at Target. Right? So I did it!

My sister in law’s niece, Abby, is a hairdresser and a complete hair genius. This girl is talented. She cut my long hair before and is awesome. I was nervous, of course, as my hair has been a crutch I’ve been holding onto. But she gave me the greatest cut and I feel a million times lighter. I feel free from the “hair.” Does anyone know what I’m talking about?

What did I think? That holding onto my long hair was going to make me feel younger? Silly Mommy. I can’t even remember what I thought the payoff was for “the hair.” Truth be told, I feel better now without the weight of the mane on my head. I feel pretty and spunky. I love it. This makes me wonder….what other myths are out there for me to dispel? What other Mom things have I been avoiding for ridiculous reasons? The reality is, that no one cares if I cut my hair….except me. So why not do what makes sense for ME? I don’t think, however, I’ll ever venture into truly short short hair as I don’t think it would suit my face at all. But again, never say never.

I think I was able to give up this crutch because everyday as a Mom I am learning more and more about what is truly vital in this a crazy life we live. Yes, how you present yourself to the world is important. It’s just not ALL Important. So if I go out without make up or my hair quaffed…who cares? Nobody but me. So when I do it, I do it for me. It’s about time, huh?

Here’s to you! Hell, here’s to US! And thanks for reading. Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every greasy kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is messing it up. Xo

That Mom

Before I had a child, I vowed to keep my offspring neat, clean and well groomed. No disheveled children. No dried food on their face. No dirt on their knees. No poop stains on the back of their pants. No sweaty, un-combed hair….you get the picture. We’ve all seen these children. I have always said, I will never be “that mom” who goes anywhere with her child in such a state. Well, as I say more often than not these days, NEVER SAY NEVER. You know, when my husband read this post, he said he thought I came across uptight and judge-y…..and well, let’s call a spade a spade…I have been.

I usually pride myself on having O look , at the very least, clean. I am definitely one for having him look adorable whenever I am out with him. You know, cute outfit, hair combed to the side, clean shoes and socks, etc. But today, after dinner, my husband and I wanted to take O to the playground. It was about an hour or so before O’s bedtime. He had his dinner. He had a poop. My husband changed him and told me that O had a little diaper leak, but that it wasn’t that much, so he kept him in the same outfit. Well, ok…I’m not gonna question the man who offers to change a diaper. The baby was fast approaching the “tired wall” and it was time to expend some serious energy. To tire the poor kid out, basically. Lets just overlook the little poop stain.

I was putting O in the car, and in the light of day, I realized his face was covered in dried sweet potato. It was also all down the front of his romper. Nice. Oh whatever…a little sweet potato never hurt anyone. His knees, now in full view, were filthy. Oye. Ok….they would get dirty at the playground anyway, right? I’m beginning to see this messy thing is a slippery slope.

About half way through our playground outing, I realized my child looked like a bonafide ragamuffin. Disheveled would be a polite term. I thought to myself, “I am THAT Mom.” But in that same instance, I knew it didn’t matter one bit. This delicious wonderful child was ours. Under all that dried sweet potato and dirt was the most perfect thing we had ever done. I guess it’s a good lesson in not judging what you see all the time. “That Mom” most likely, like me, was frazzled….in a rush….and thought to herself, “I’m just running out for a sec! What does it matter?” Well, it doesn’t. Not one bit.

Is your child happy? Is he exploring? Is she getting her hands dirty, figuratively and literally? That’s what matters. I guess I see it differently now. I see the sweat and dirt on O as an indication of how active he was all day. His energy level is through the roof! I can only imagine that level rising as he gets older. And the harder he plays, the harder he sleeps. I’m not gonna mess around with that! The occasional stain on his shirt? The smudge on his face? Well, shit happens. But one thing I know is, it all comes out in the bath water. Literally.

This does not mean I throw all good intentions of keeping my child clean out the window. But there is a time and a place for all things…and there are limits to what you can do at times. I’m a good Mom. No, scratch that. I’m a really good Mom. But I am not super human. Often, I miss a spot on his sweet cheek after lunch. Occasionally, I keep him in a dribbled on shirt. And most times he likes to run his hands through the dirt in the yard. He’ll survive….and so will I. Happily and heartily. Growing and exploring and figuring it all out….together.

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

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

Subtle Summer

It dawned on me the other day that it was almost August! Where is the summer going? I realized that I had yet to do anything “summery.” The days were marching on and I was not participating in the standard joys of the season. Who am I? Oh wait, I’m a mother of a one year old.

Our days have been consumed with our crazy move and making this new house our home. It’s all coming along, but far from finished. But if we don’t take some time to enjoy this beautiful summer it will be gone before we know it. I feel like I should rush out to play some mini golf or get some ice cream at a seasonal creamery. Or go to the beach. Or go sailing. But O is only one. He doesn’t do ice cream yet or mini golf. The beach is daunting on my own with the little guy not to mention the summer sun would fry his milky white skin. He’s napping twice a day lately so the window of time I get out of the house is small….And we don’t own a sailboat.

Past summers have been spent in the sunflower fields of Tuscany and on exotic Greek Island Beaches. I would get excited for the summer sales at Gucci in Rome and for walking through the Bazaar in Istanbul. I’d spend my days that happened to be stateside on a beach, reading, working out and getting far too tan for the likes of my fair skin. I’ve had all the glamour, excitement and travel a person should be allowed. My husband asked me the other day if I missed my old life. 🙂 Without pause, I said, “No.” And that’s the Gods honest truth. It’s not that it wasn’t great….it was. But this is just so much better. And I really believe you just don’t “get it” till it happens to you. Till your ready for it.

I find myself opening all the windows in our new home, feeling the warm breeze and listening to all the sounds of summer. I watch O practice his walking like an Olympic athlete. This kid is tenacious! I watch the clouds from the skylight in our beautiful great room. Light pouring in. It’s heavenly. It is my summer this year. And I realize, that it’s all right with me. Next year, O will be older and more ready for the beach. He will get excited for an ice cream cone and will have mastered the art of running, let alone walking. But for now, our summer is on the subtle side. A slower pace, if you like. I don’t mind it, surprisingly. But hold onto your hats, things are about to get crazy…When O wakes up from his nap we might go to the farm down the road to get some fresh vegetables and I think I’ll make my Mom’s raspberry pie. That always makes me feel like it’s summer.

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! 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.

From Gucci To Gerber

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

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