Motherhood and Mortality

Not all that long ago, I used to tell my husband, I thought I would die on the young side of old. The notion never ever bothered me. I can actually say I was really ok with it. I have always been a big believer of things happening for a reason. I guess it was just a silly gut feeling I had and I was at peace with it. Then something happened….I had my son.

To say I feel differently now is an understatement. And the reasons are layered and complex. I am sometimes hit with the fear of “Oh my God! What if something happens to me and O is left alone?” Well, it’s already ridiculous, because he would not be alone. He would have my husband. His father. The person on this earth who loves him as fiercely as I do. But every child needs his Mother, right? Or is it the other way around? Now that I have him…now that I have tasted this kind of love…I don’t think I could live without it. I need him as completely as he needs me. Maybe more so.

The completely irrational and borderline crazy mourning of my own inevitable passing I experience at times, is about MY missing out. I don’t want to miss a single second of this brilliant journey. Being an older Mom just emphasizes the fear. I don’t need to be sidled with an untimely death. Just dying in the normal course of life will leave me missing a chunk of O’s journey. If he waits to have children like I did, I’ll be 84 if I am lucky enough to meet my newborn grandchildren. Certainly too old to watch them grow up. It’s depressing really. Geez. Right now my husband is rolling his eyes. He wasn’t thrilled with this week’s topic of choice. He likes it when I write about rainbows and unicorns. Lol.

The other night, I started to get worked up over it all. I completely freaked my husband out. I had just read an article that stated 1 out of 2 women and 1 out of 3 men will get cancer. Most survive, but no one lives forever. I started to feel consumed by a loss that didn’t even happen yet? A loss that, most likely, would not happen for a very long time. And when that time does come, and my number is up, so to speak, I won’t experience the loss, cause I’m the one who will be gone. But I guess that really depends on your beliefs on the afterlife. I’m completely certifiable. See how your thoughts can snowball? It’s complex, right?

After researching some other articles, I realize that I’m not alone in these thoughts. In fact, I’m on the sane side of “cray cray.” I read a post by a women who was encouraging parents to document their lives (video, photos, etc.) for their children to have when they are gone…”before it is too late”….(Geez). It is called intentional memory making. There is even an app for it! I mean, I get it. When my husband’s father passed away, he had heaps of recordings of his father singing. It helped him grieve. And even now, almost four years later, it helps him feel closer to his dad. But his father was a professional singer/songwriter. These memories were made by his father simply living his life doing what he loved. It’s a bit different than intentionally documenting everything. I take my fair share of photos, I do. And it is fun to go back and reminisce, but I don’t know. I don’t want to judge what others want to do. So..what do I do?

Well, I can’t change the fact that I am, indeed, an older mom. I can try to keep myself healthy, but even that is no guarantee. In fact, that’s exactly it…..we have no guarantees of the time we have here. No telling when our time is up. So acceptance seems paramount. Acceptance and gratitude. Gratitude for all we are experiencing in the NOW. I can try not to waste days, but I’m sure there will be a few days, at least, lost to complaining, or stress, or both. I’m only human. But I don’t want to spend moments constantly behind a camera lens…hovering on the outside of our experiences for the sake of documenting them. Nor do I want to feel every moment has the cloud of mourning hanging over it…even if it is hanging somewhere in the back of our mind, it’s still there, stealing from our NOW. Our perfect NOW.

As with everything, balance is key. So I’ll mix my neurosis with some healthy belly laughing and get on with this awesome second act of my life. (Did I mention my life is a play in Three Acts?) I guess when it’s all said and done, I can say I have tasted pure true love. I have experienced real joy. I feel like I know what heaven truly is. And maybe I’ll find an old shoe box and occasionally put some photos in it and write some love letters to the sweetest boy I’ll ever know, my little O.

Until next time, keep on keeping on…and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is certain she is screwing it up!

When I’m 64

You know the Beatles’ song…..”Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?” It’s catchy, right? The melody is relentless in my head. So I thought, hmm….when I’m sixty-four? When I’m 64!! Shit, that isn’t so far away really. I started to do the math, as I always do. My, now 10 month old, little O will be 19 years old. In college most likely. A young man, starting his journey to adulthood. My husband will be a mere 52. A man in his prime. And I will be…..a year away from retirement…a fledgling member of the AARP. Oh God. There is that pit in my stomach. The reality of being an older Mom hits me every once in a while. Hits me hard. It hits extra hard when your husband is 11 years your junior, let me tell ya. Bless him, he always says, “I just don’t think about age, babe.” Well thank God for that. I guess if he did, we wouldn’t be together. Ha, I remember an older man I dated (11 years my senior) who actually told me if I was any older, we couldn’t be together. Lol. The audacity of the old guy! Bet he’s making some lucky girl very happy! (Insert sarcasm liberally).

It’s not like I think about it everyday. I truly don’t. I don’t really have time to. I guess in a way, having a baby later in life keeps you younger for a bit longer. It’s just those “every once in a while” times…Randomly catching myself in a mirror and wondering “who is that old lady?” Or the occasional comment from the thoughtless person. When I was pregnant, the girl who used to cut my hair when I lived in Florida, made a comment about how her daughter (who was 7) was so happy she had a young mom and not a mom who people thought was a grandmother. She then added that her daughter had a friend who’s mom was old, “like 50!!” It was clear she had no idea how old I was. I then told her I would be 52 when O turns 7…. She felt like an idiot. I’m kinda glad she did. Because you really DON’T think of it til some young ditz reminds you. And then you wonder, does every younger person think this way? When I show up at a PTA meeting, will the other Moms look at me the way teenagers look at their parents? Will their children ask me if I am O’s grandmother? At O’s graduation will people wonder if I am my husband’s mother? Ok, that might be pushing it a little. But, if that’s not incentive for Botox, I don’t know what is! Unfortunately, injecting botulism into my face is grounds for divorce according to my beloved. But when I’m 64 will he have wished I had?

I could make myself crazy over it. (Crazier than I already am). But what’s the point? Thankfully I am in a marriage where aesthetics are the mere icing on the cake of things that truly matter. There is no antidote for aging. And there is no turning back time. So there remains only one option for the older Mom like me. Grace. I can age with grace. I can be the wise Mom that other women look to. I can be an example of how to age, but not necessarily grow old. It’s funny (ironic, not ha ha), but my inside self really has no age. I suppose I should just keep doing what I’ve always done…just more elegantly…and maybe with a fabulous hat? Again, I go too far.

Now I didn’t enter into this motherhood thing as gracefully as I would have liked, but this aging thing is a slower process. I have a little time to get it right, hopefully. I’d like to raise O not to be an ageist. I’d like him to value a person based on more than a pretty face and a hot body….I can be the example of how it all eventually goes south…lol. But seriously, we get so much more out of life when we look beyond obvious beauty. As I think of it, I don’t think I’d trade this older Mom thing. Because I know more now. Valuable things I can pass on to my little guy. Personally speaking, I honestly think it makes me a better mom. And when I’m 64, I think it still will.

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

The Flying Crap Shoot

O getting ready for takeoff!

This last week my husband and I did the dreaded…the unthinkable…the “Holy shit! What made us think this was a good idea?” thing…..we took our 9 month old on an airplane. Off to Florida for a reprieve from the cruel New England winter. Let me first say, the whole experience could have been MUCH worse. We could have been the parents who sat three rows behind us, whose child vomited everywhere. Several times. God bless them! Wet Ones don’t put a dent in that stink. Yikes! And considering we were enjoying the beach on the first day of spring while the North East experienced yet another snow day…I’d say it was worth it.

But this endeavor is in no way a challenge for the weak or wimpy. There is no more leisurely magazine reading or a cheeky Bloody Mary in my friendly skies. It’s a freakin P90X workout, even under the best of circumstances. Now that my little O has discovered standing and walking, he only wants to be up. Not easy on an airplane. I have a 25lb 9 month old who is long and solid. That’s some serious weight training on a three hour flight. Luckily my husband and I took turns holding him.

And talk about prepping your gear! I mean you have to have everything you could possibly need for every scenario. (Example: vomit boy three rows back). You’ve got your anti bac wipes to sanitize everything within the perimeter of your little one’s reach. Then you have your regular baby wipes, diapers, bum cream, etc. Now, if you think to, you might want an emergency ziplock with wipes, a diaper, and some sort of disposable pad….cause ever try to carry a diaper bag into an airplane lavatory? Then add you and your baby to that tiny space….yeah, it’s laughable. And then you realize there is no changing table in said tiny lavatory. Most airlines haven’t upgraded their johns to accommodate diaper changes. Really? Get with the times folks! Yet the attendants look at you with horror if you attempt to change your child in your seat. Sorry, my madness makes me lose focus.

Add to your list a change of clothes for baby (Example: vomit boy three rows back) and a change of shirt for Mom and/or Dad (again.. Example: vomit boys parents), toys to keep your little one occupied, pacifiers (with an S, because they will drop them or throw them continually) pacifier wipes, bottles for feeding on take off and landing so your little ones ears don’t get affected by the pressure, room temperature bottled water ( if you’re formula feeding) which you have to search for once you go through security, because everyone sells it cold, burp cloths, baby blanket in case it’s freezing onboard, which it usually is and last but not least your friendly boppy pillow, so your little one can lay on your lap in comfort when they feel like it, which was never in little O’s case. I’m exhausted and I’m only reliving it.

Little O was as good as a 9 month old could be in a confined space for three hours. Heck, he was better behaved than a gaggle of middle aged women who were acting like they were getting a jump start on spring break in Daytona Beach. But it’s tough. You gotta really want to go somewhere to take this on once your child discovers mobility. Now the kicker is that my return trip will be sans the hubbie. Yup, I will be flying back home with O all on my own. Returning a rental car, to boot. I am sure I am certifiable for choosing to put myself in this situation. But when I flew with O at less than 3 months old, it was easy. I didn’t know that it would be, but it was. He ate, he slept, he ate again, we landed. When we booked these flights I didn’t take into account he would be so much bigger and more mobile. Silly Mommy! So I will yet again, roll the dice. Cause that’s what it is…a crap shoot. Will I be the Mom handling her baby’s explosive diaper? Or cleaning up vomit with Wet Ones? Or will I win the kitty and deplane the aircraft unscathed, though undeniably exhausted. Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll let you know. Until next time, pray for me friends, as I will for you if you ever need to travel or just really want to get away with the little one in tow.

Praying for Help

The weeks following coming home from the hospital with Little O, were my bleakest ever. That sounds horrible, but it’s true. I knew I had the postpartum blues, but a diagnosis doesn’t make the day to day struggle any easier, except to know that it would eventually pass. Getting through those days of tears and self doubt was pretty much the most difficult time I have ever encountered. I remember, my husband had to fly up north for a job interview and was going to be gone overnight….about a 24 hour trip. I was going to be alone with the baby. Just me. I was terrified. I couldn’t tell him not to go. That I couldn’t handle it. The interview was for a job he wanted badly, and I couldn’t say ” don’t go!” like I wanted to. So I lied. I feigned a smile. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

I remember holding little O, rocking in my nursery glider…crying. I just couldn’t stop. I remember trying to quietly cry, because I didn’t want to startle the baby..or scare him. Could I scare an infant by crying? I didn’t know! I felt like I knew nothing. I remember feeling hopeless. But somehow I got through the 24 hours. My parents came to stay with us a couple days later. Instead of relief, I felt stressed beyond comprehension. My world was completely topsy turvy. Every reaction or feeling I was having was the opposite of what I was supposed to be having. I kept feeling like I was spinning. Like I was in a bad dream and I was desperate to wake up. I had such shame. Such feelings of inadequacy. I didn’t want my parents to see me like this….I think they thought I was very stressed, but I don’t think they truly grasped how bad off I was, Thank God.

My husband was always trying to get me to take some time for myself…or do something to de-stress. This particular evening was no exception. He told me to go take a long hot shower and I agreed. I remember the scalding hot water running down my back…and the hot tears running down my face. I was silently sobbing. Heavy silent sobs. I wanted to hide. I wanted to stay in that shower for the rest of my life. I remember looking up and asking God for help. Would he please help me..because I didn’t know what I was going to do without some serious celestial assistance.

The next day, again at my husband’s plea…I went to get a manicure. I remember thinking that a manicure was not going to solve anything…but I would go…maybe it would relax me? My usual guy was finishing up with another customer and he told me to come sit down by them. He was congratulating me on the baby…and asking all about it. The lady he was working on was nice and started asking me questions too. I remember telling her that I was having a difficult time. How I just didn’t know how hard it was going to be. She said sweetly, but very matter of fact, “You just have to hold him and love him.” Like it was THAT easy….huh. She told me about her grandchild. I asked her how many children she had. She said,”two.” A son and a daughter. “My son lives in Colorado and my daughter was murdered.” I was stunned! What?! “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” She went on like she hadn’t said something so horrific, so terrifying…telling me about something her granddaughter did recently. She got up and gave me a smile and said, “Remember, you just have to hold him and love him.” And she was gone.

My nail guy told me she lost her daughter in a highly publicized school shooting, years ago. She had since relocated to South Florida. She had done the talk shows and interviews about it afterwards, talking about gun control, dealing with the loss and how to move on. And there I was complaining to this woman about how hard it was to have a beautiful new born baby! How awful of me! And then it hit me. I had asked God for help…and what I got was perspective. I proclaim that I am a spiritual person, but I am not very religious, per say. But no one can tell me that God didn’t put me in that seat next to that woman. Everything happens for a reason, I truly believe. And my talking with that woman was the mental shift I needed to get me over the bluesy hump. I can honestly say, that my whole mindset changed that afternoon. I looked at O differently after that. I could see the incredible gift we had been given. I knew I had to cherish it. Every time I would feel like things were hard, I’d remember that woman…..and my perspective would shift. 9 months later, I wish I could thank her and let her know the huge impact she has had on my life. How she helped me so profoundly. How I follow her simple advice each and every day. “Just hold him and love him.” I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again… You never know from where you will receive help. It can come from very unlikely places. In unlikely forms. In the most random person. In a thoughtful kind word, a prayer answered, or a simple piece of advice. “Just hold him and love him.”

A Kinder Gentler Mom

I belong to several Mommy groups on Facebook. Several for older Moms…and several more for just Moms in General. I love these groups for many reasons. Not just for questions posed and ingenious answers that follow, but for the sense of community these groups give me. As I mentioned on my Home page, I moved my life from Florida to Massachusetts right after the birth of little O. I have no friends here yet. I have no support close by except my Mother-in-law, god bless her!..and some awesome family that are a phone call away. But no daily friends to chat with and compare baby notes with. I know, I know…I can seek out play groups and “Mommy and me” type events…and I’m sure that will come, but right now, trudging through the New England snow to sing “The Wheels On The Bus,” isn’t practical or appealing. So until the ground thaws, it’s a nice outlet to have some cyber friends going through some of the same stuff.

But last week on one of the group’s pages, who’s name shall remain nameless, because I actually can’t remember which group it was, nor does it matter….a mom posted a photo of her son who looked about 10 – 12 months old. He was sitting in a pack and play. She asked the question if it could hurt her son’s eyesight if he watched a cartoon through the mesh side of the pack and play. Now before you jump to respond, let me tell you, the number of women who jumped all over this mother because she was letting her child watch television was astounding. Now I don’t know how old she is or what her background is. Regardless, she didn’t need to be slapped upside the head by other Mom’s when she was seeking answers. The question she posed, was not, should my child be watching TV. Yet, more than half of the “support group” moms chose to enlighten her, unsolicited, and some not very nicely, I might add. Without even knowing her circumstances. Did she have a toddler as well? Did she (fill in the blank)…..the circumstances could be anything..but one thing is for sure, they are HER circumstances.

Now I am an educated woman. I am old enough to “know better” on many subjects. I have been educated about “no TV for children under 2 years of age.” But here is the big confession, cause this is about being real. Have I put on PBS for 15-30 minutes here and there throughout a given day? Have I introduced my little O to Thomas the Train (whom he adores!)? Have I sought out what Baby TV has to offer on Hulu? (Concertino is pretty wonderful)…so, YES. There, I have said it. But don’t scream at me or chastise me. Don’t shake your finger and raise your eyebrow. I’m not going to defend my choice. Because that’s the whole point of this post. You don’t know what my circumstances are, as I don’t know what yours are. You wouldn’t get a gasp out of me if you told me you thought Sesame Street was really good these days. Nope. Because YOU are raising your child… Your unique baby who is unlike any other baby in the whole world. And YOUR circumstances are your own. Now, if you sat your child in front of the tube playing loops of Dexter or The Walking Dead, I’d probably think you were on crack, but I wouldn’t tell you so. I would probably tell you about this sweet show on PBS, Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood, that teaches practical skills for growing and developing. But again, it’s a fine line we tread.

I had a woman after my last blog “How To Have It All…Just Not All At Once,” who commented unfavorably regarding what I said about having a child in daycare. I had said that if I had to put my son in daycare everyday, it would be someone else essentially raising my son. Now, there is NO judgement in that statement. Perhaps it was a bit of a blanket statement and for that, I apologize. I understand that women have to do whatever they can to make things work. But it is over 8 hours a day of someone else caring for your child. Yes, you instill your values and are raising your child, but there is an outside influence that is clocking in a lot of hours. It’s not judgement, it’s just fact. The point is, this mother responded with such defense. And I get it. Because as mothers we feel like we have to defend every move we make…from formula feeding, to TV time, to you name it. Most of us question every choice we make throughout the day. We do a number on ourselves constantly….do we really need another mother’s judgement? The stay at home mom is constantly defending her choice to stay at home….the working mom is defending her choice/or necessity to remain in the work force. And that is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what we may feel guilty or insecure about.

I’m sure you all have seen the Similac commercial “The Sisterhood of Motherhood.” It blew up my Facebook the day it started being shared. You can click on the title here to take a gander. The reason it is funny…is because there is truth in it. ( truth in comedy, right?) I mean, there was going to be a rumble at that playground! Mothers against mothers….against mothers. It took a baby being in danger to bond them all. Why should it take a tragedy to bring people together? I mean, really Ladies? Aren’t we better than that? Why is it we are so quick to pounce on each other? Why can’t we be each other’s champions and cheerleaders? Where is empathy among Mothers? Come to think of it, where is empathy among all people? Why are we so quick to find each other’s faults?

This endeavor of mothering takes courage, stamina, and at times, a god-like amount of patience. To rephrase an old adage…never judge a mother till you’ve walked a mile in her shoes, be they Gucci pumps or sensible flats. The truth is, we need each other. I need help, encouragement, and friendship everyday. And wine. Lots of wine. But seriously, a reassuring nod from the sisterhood of motherhood goes a long way. When I’m navigating my stroller in the slushy parking lot of my local Target, and I see another mom doing the same….I try to give her a reassuring smile. Sometimes a kind comment. The point is, even the smallest kindness can get you through a day. Especially a tough day. We all have them. So the next time we rush to judge, or comment on a Facebook post…Take pause. Think. Could this be you? If not now, maybe someday soon? If there are two things I’ve learned in my “advanced maternal age” is to never say never and kindness goes a long way.

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

How to Have It All…Just Not All at Once

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pic from the last show I did before O.

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

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

Choose Your Husband Well

In honor of Father’s Day and my amazing husband and baby Daddy, I decided to repost this love letter of sorts to my beloved. He is truly awesome. I honestly didn’t know just how wonderful he would be at this parenting thing. He surprises and delights me on a daily basis. From washing bottles to the love and gentle care he gives to both Little O and I every single day….he is Father of the Year in our eyes. Thank you, my love, for choosing to share this wonderful life with us. Xo

It seems like it is just common sense. Choose your husband well. ?? Really, aren’t we ALL trying to do that when we choose a mate? But the criteria for a good husband is different than the criteria for a good father…or is it? Now, I have dated a fair share of men in past. And since I am “older” I have dated a good deal more than perhaps your normal 20 or 30 something year old has. Now, as I know my mother and mother-in-law read this blog, I will try to leave out the tawdry details. But let’s say, for good measure, that I have been around. I was never your one night stand girl at all. I had lasting relationships with several men. The WRONG men. I guess they served their purpose for that time in my life, but still WRONG. And when I say that, they could have certainly been RIGHT for someone. Just not me. I met my now husband over 10 years ago. Now you all know that he is a good deal younger than me. (11 years). So now imagine, 10+ years ago…..he was a boy. Was he marriage material? NO! Of course not. But did he have the makings of a man who would be not only an amazing husband, but a more amazing father? You bet he did. I am just lucky enough that he stuck it out and waited for me to come to my senses.

So what is this criteria I think so important for the ideal mate? Note, I don’t say perfect, because there is no such thing. In fact, faults are part of the charm. So don’t knock them. And realize that YOU, yes YOU, have faults too. It’s part of owning who you are in a real adult relationship. I truly believe the number one thing to look for in a mate is a kind heart. I knew my now husband possessed this rare feature on about day three of meeting him. And it is still at the core of his being. It is inherently who he is. Kind. Sometimes, it is to his chagrin. But he is truly Kind.

The second thing would be Honesty. How many of us can really truly say we are with someone we can absolutely trust with our life? I have NEVER been with another man that I could say that about. In fact, with several, I knew it to be quite the opposite. I mean, I am sure they would have tried to save me from a burning building (you know, to keep up appearances), but they would most likely have shagged two women on the way up and a set of twins on the way down. The thing is, I knew this about these men. Somewhere, somehow, I knew. They were self absorbed, unavailable, unwilling to truly commit to something other than themselves and unaware of what they truly wanted from life. In flux, you could say. Caught in a kind of Peter Pan vortex.

My husband knew exactly what he wanted when I met him. Regardless of the fact that he was too young to make those things happen, he was firm and committed to having the life that he imagined. He wanted to be married. (To me, lucky for me). And he wanted a family. Now again, lucky for me, his want for me in his life, trumped the want for a family…because who knew at the time of our commitment, if I would be able to give him children ?? He sure didn’t. But in all his youth, he understood that WHO you choose as your partner, should you choose to have a partner, makes all the difference to the life you will live. Add a baby to the mix and your choice of partner becomes an even more profound thing.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. People who raise a child on their own are truly amazing. I seriously don’t know HOW they do it. Sharing this journey with my husband is half the fun of it. Someone who understands my fierce unconditional LOVE for this little creature, because HE feels it too. It’s another level of connection we now share. The idea of it is quite awesome! WE created this child! This amazing, beautiful, fantastic child!! And no one thinks that about him like WE do. To us, he is perfect (even though there is no such thing). He is EVERYTHING. He is the best parts of both of us (and even our not so great parts, but hey who’s looking?). He is our celebration of our love for each other! I mean, how do you share all of that with someone who is unavailable? Someone who is afraid of truly being loved? I don’t know. Maybe it’s possible?? I know plenty of women, married to men who are just not “there.” Guys who aren’t at peace being the husband and father. Guys who are always chasing a skirt to somehow elude their mortality….??? As I re read this, I can see the cynicism. But, I am old enough not to bullshit you.

To truly enjoy this journey of being a parent, you MUST have a partner who is with you 110%. Someone who is just as jazzed about it as you. Who is just as tired and fried, but who picks you up after a long day of “fussy baby” antics. The guy who at 4am, says “I’ve got it babe.” They guy who takes the baby out on Saturday mornings to give you some “Me” time. The guy who still looks at you like you are the most beautiful women he’s ever seen….even with spit up on your shirt and no makeup on your face. He’s got your back…and there is no doubt that he will always have it. I’ve never enjoyed that level of “no doubt.” It’s pretty wonderful. I highly recommend it. But then, that’s what this whole post is about. Choose your partner well, friends. Choose him well.

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

From Gucci To Gerber

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

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