Back In The Saddle

Well, hello! It has been quite a while, friend. My hiatus from writing just might be over. I have taken a long enough pause to re-group my thoughts, to step away from the rage inspired by ridiculous politics, and to muster the courage to feel that, somehow, perhaps, my words might actually matter. It has been a long needed respite. If you have stayed with me through this nothingness, I’m truly grateful. I couldn’t expect it of any reader. If you are new to my musings, I invite you to go back to the beginning. Take the journey which will lead you to where we are now – an advanced maternal age mother (now of three years) navigating her way through preschool pandemonium. I have matured in my mothering, but the certainty of it all still eludes me. I feel I am now wise enough to know the uncertainty will most likely never go away.

I have not stopped thinking about writing. It has always been at the forefront of my thoughts this past however many months. I’d have to go way back to see exactly how long it has actually been since my last post, but I think it was last May. Even before that, my posts were becoming few and far between. After a gut wrenching election cycle, the state of our nation was really getting me down. It felt like I couldn’t not make every post about something political. That isn’t what I had set out to do. Also, I began teaching voice and acting at a fantastic arts academy. It takes up quite a bit of time for prep work. Time I used to use to write. The teaching has now expanded, which is brilliant, but again, I only have so much time. I chose to let this go for a while. Did I mention that I have matured and realize that I can’t actually do Everything?

I feel ready to give voice to this next phase of motherhood, however tight my time may be. My little O is no longer a baby. (That is super hard to say!) He is 3 1/2 years old. He is tall and full of personality. He has the energy of the Energizer Bunny and the mood swings of Sybil. He is funny, emotional, and all over the place. He is imperfectly perfect. I don’t want to miss chronicling this time in our lives because I am crunched for time or because I get lazy. This blog is ultimately for him. So here I am. Back in the saddle.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight. Remember, behind every great kid is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. My current life story! Lol. Thanks for reading. Xo

Thoughts on the Bottle


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

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

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

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

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


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

To Kiss Or Not To Kiss


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


The Best Part of My Day


As a full time Stay At Home Mom, my days are on a crazy schedule.  Add to it the fact that we are moving house, and it is truly chaotic.  I have all I can do to stay up till 9pm these days.  O goes down at 8pm and, I swear, the bed starts calling my name….”Mary…..Sleeeeep…Sleeeep!”  If I decide to live on the edge and stay up till 9:30 or (Oh My God! ) 10 o’clock,  I pay for it dearly with a tired crabby attitude the next day.  You would think that the best part of my day would be hitting the pillow. But I have to tell you, although it is always welcome, it is not the BEST part of my day.

The BEST part of my day is when I give O his bottle. My husband has dibs on the bedtime feeding for now, so I do either crazy early in the morning when I wake out of my coveted slumber….or before his nap time.    I sit in the rocker in his room and he lays across my lap.  I stroke his hair.  Sometimes his little hand holds my finger.  We look deep into each other’s eyes.  He lets me know he loves me.  And I let him know his love is safe with me and whole heartedly requited.    It is fifteen minutes that feel as if time stands still.  Where my little baby boy communes with me.  Where we connect on a level so instinctual, yet so profound, it knocks my socks off.  I don’t care if I get woken up out of a sound sleep.  I don’t care if I have a “to do” list that is fifty feet long.  I have never known such pure uncomplicated love. And it’s in those 15 minutes (or so) that I savor every part of this incredible gift.

The great thing about this time for me, is that I can’t do anything else while I’m feeding him.  Well, I guess I could.  I could check my email.  I could text on my phone.  I could surf Pinterest.  I could watch TV.  But WHY would I ever do that and MISS this amazing time??? I’d have to be coo coo for cocoa puffs to gip myself out of this slice of heaven.  I suppose I CHOOSE to do nothing else whist feeding him.  I just can’t imagine any other way.  How would I sing him his favorite songs? How would I catch the look in his eyes that lets me know I’m his world (right now)? Nope, I’m gonna take in all this bliss before it’s gone.  And let me tell you, it will be gone and before I know it.  He is already getting less bottles, which means less sweet time for him and I.  I can already see my husband and I duking it out over who gets to give O his bedtime bottle, when that is the last bottle feeding remaining.  I’m not sure how that’s gonna go.  We will have some major negotiations for sure!

Its funny, I worried so much about not being able to breastfeed my little O.  I beat myself up over it and obsessed that I wasn’t going to bond the same way because we wouldn’t have that special closeness.  Well, one year into this motherhood thing and I’m a lot wiser for wear.  I can tell you with all certainty, my little O couldn’t be any more attached to me.  Our bond is true and unbreakable.  The time and attention I have given him and the love he has come to know and rely on,  is the basis for that bond.  I don’t believe it has anything to do with a nipple.  Oh, I’m sure there are thousands of women who would disagree.  Trust me, if I had been able to breastfeed successfully, I’d still be doing it.  Nutrition wise,  I believe it to be the best thing for a baby.  But I don’t believe my not being able to nurse my son hindered our bond in any way.  I wish I would have known that last year.  I would have been a lot easier on myself.

These moments…..these “best parts of the day” are the joys we find in the mundane.  They are the example of power in simplicity.  They are proof that something so small, and so routine can bring such profound happiness.  What’s the best part of your day? I would wager to say it’s something simple.  Something simply wonderful.




Feeding Time Confessions of an Overwrought SAHM


I really do love lists.  To do lists.  Grocery lists. You name it LISTS! It’s a type A person’s daydream. Oddly,  I have never written a list as a post for my blog.  But the other evening I was finishing up feeding little O in his high chair and I found myself picking up the dropped macaroni from his seat and putting them in my mouth.  I was eating the discarded droppings from my sons tray.  Was this a new low? How had I come to this? Rather than go four feet to the trash bin, I used my mouth as a human garbage can to avoid getting up and throwing it away.  I was beyond tired.  I was overwrought.  It was then I knew I had a list I had to share.  The following admissions are not for the squeamish or easily grossed out.  You have been warned.  Sometimes motherhood is just a dirty job.

10 Feeding Time Confessions Of An Overwrought Stay At Home Mom:

1.   I eat the puffs that fall on the floor from O’s highchair. Yup.  I do.   P.S. Puffs taste like nothing, but they seem like crack to Little O.

2.   If I’m not hungry, I sometimes pick up a puff from the floor and put it right back on O’s tray for his consumption.  Is that the five second rule? Or is it three seconds? Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem to mind.

3.   I eat the food that falls out of O’s mouth.  Yes, I use a wet wipe, but occasionally, I use my finger to get that glob of mashed up sweet potatoes and carrot purée off of his face.  It occasionally goes in my mouth.  Delicioso!

4.   I often (more often than not) accompany O’s dinner feeding with a glass of wine for myself.  I prefer a nice Cabernet with most puréed delicacies.

5.    I have ever worn the shirt I wore to bed the whole next day.  If my sleeves have baby food on them, I just roll them up.  Classy.

6.   If we have potato chips in the house, I will eat them in a mindless trance if O cries because he was just put down for a nap.  Its an SCM (snacking coping mechanism.). I try NOT to keep such trigger  snacks in the house.

7.   I feel guilty between 10-20 times a day for feeling like I’m not doing enough for my LO.

8.   I often have pee on my clothes and spit up in my hair.  Yes indeedy! I have a friend who says, “you are always so put together!”  It’s all smoke and mirrors, folks.

9.   I sometimes cry because I am so tired.

10.  I often cry because I am so happy.


Crash Test Mommy


I don’t know how it happens.  It’s like I go from 0 to 60 in a matter of moments.  Everything is going fine, I’m handling the day with O.  I should say, enjoying the day with O.  Ok, I didn’t sleep great the past couple of nights, but I’m tough.  Then I navigate family stuff  i.e. dysfunction,  over the phone while I’m trying to get some exercise by taking a walk.  Then, I make baby food while I figure out what we will have for dinner.  Then I field emails and calls to make our crazy (at the moment) life actually function. Add laundry, keeping our house show ready for prospective buyers,  throw in a trip to the post office,  a stop at the grocery store and a diaper run for fun.  Then O decides not to take a nap, but rather stand in his crib crying until Mommy comes in to save him.  And every whine and whimper sends my head spinning further and further into a place I don’t know how to return from sometimes.

By the time my husband gets home,  I’m feeding the overtired wonder boy in his high chair, while he wears some of his meal, as he has now taken to swatting the spoon away and then crying because there is no food in his mouth.  Of course, I have a large glass of wine beside me.    I swear, O will be a toddler able to open a bottle of wine like a professional sommelier and make a killer dirty martini to rival Dean Martin.  He’s seen it done enough.  I look like I’ve been through a prison camp.  A camp where they dress you in yoga pants and make you wear your hair in a ponytail everyday.  My husband asks me if I’m ok? He is truly concerned.  He takes over feeding our child.  And all I feel is guilt.  Like I have somehow lost the battle of the day.

I then don’t know how to come back? Has that ever happened to any of you? It’s like I don’t know how to wipe the day away  and start over.  The guilt of getting frustrated or of wasting the gift of the day stays with me.  I can’t imagine how my husband could love me.  I’m so so far away from what he signed  up for.  And it seems I can’t handle even the simplest task.  I can’t even keep it together as I write this.  Thankfully, I know this too shall pass and I will recover and become “me” again.    But in the midst of the whirlwind I seem unrecognizable, even to myself.

When I was dealing with postpartum  baby blues, I’d often have the “drive away”  fantasy.  I didn’t  know how many women had this fantasy until I started reading other women’s blogs.  I’d see myself getting into my Kia and just driving away.  To nowhere.  Just to breathe.  Just to feel the wind on my face.  I didn’t know how far I’d go… I always planned on coming back, but in my mind it was the perfect escape.  Now my escape fantasy involves a bath and a nice hotel room.  I fantasize about sleep like it is some elusive unattainable thing.  When I start fantasizing more frequently, I know I am approaching my breaking point.  I am getting close to crashing into the wall.

I am not a super woman.  I am just a woman.  I’m trying.  Everyday I try.  That counts, right? My number one concern is that I do right by O.  That I give him everything I can, everyday.  That I teach him what I know and more, to make him a decent kind loving person.  But inevitably, there are days when you are at the end of your rope, and you wind up teaching him something negative.  A curse word you said out of frustration (it only has to happen once) …or how to make a killer dirty martini.  How can you be the perfect mom at every moment?? If you have the answer, let me know.  Until then, I’ll be putting one foot in front of the other.  Occasionally, I’ll take a step backwards…because I’m only human.

Moving Mommy


I am officially certifiable.  My husband and I are moving house, again.  Good Lord, give me strength.  It’s bad enough that we moved from Florida to New England when O was only 3 months old.  I truly don’t know how we did it.  I think I must have been on auto pilot.  Like some sort of new mommy zombie.  It’s the only way I could have gotten through it.  We kept our Florida house furnished, so we didn’t pack up every last morsel. It was tough enough packing up all our personal things with a newborn infant.  But this move will require us to move EVERYTHING…all with a 12 month old, who is crawling and cruising like a demon and getting into anything and everything that isn’t safety sealed shut.  Like I said, Good Lord, give me strength!

Of course, it will most likely NOT be an easy, care free transition.  You see, we haven’t found the house we want to move into yet.  (Nervous smile).  So we could very well be packing this home up into a storage facility until the right house comes along.  Eek.  Live out of a suitcase much? Good thing I have lots of experience with that from touring.  My biggest concern, however,  is not how I will handle it, but how O will adapt.  When he was 3 months old he was completely adaptable.  I knew he would have no recollection of it.  The several transitions he made were easy peesey.  But will it be that way this time? I mean, he won’t remember it, but will it affect him adversely?

If things don’t go swimmingly, as they most never do with real estate…then we may be moving in with my Mother-in-law until we secure and close on a new residence.  Thank goodness I adore her! I can only hope she will still love me after this possible cohabitation. To say we are grateful for her is a great understatement.  A huge positive will be O getting to spend more time with her.  You know how I feel about grandparents! I’m a big advocate for Grammy time.  See, I’m trying to focus on the positive side if things.

I’m certainly not dreading any part of this journey.   I guess it’s just that I just want to be settled.  Once and for all.  I went from leaving my “in and out of town” career to be settled for what turned out to be  a hot second…to move up to New England to stay with my MIL until our house was available, to be in our house for another hot second, to now be packing it up for some unknown abode.  I feel like I’ve  been on the move since forever.  It’s just time to slow down and get settled. Time to nest.   My soul feels it.  Hell, my bones feel it.  I not only want to plant roots in the home that O will grow up in…I want to plant a garden and be around to watch it grow.  I want to plant perennials and see them pop up next spring and the next 10 springs to come.  It’s something THAT simple.  I’m ready for simple.

It’s not like this move is news to me. It’s all part of our plan.  We actually want to move.  But the reality of it is just starting to set in for this Mommy, and it’s a tad daunting.  So if any of you Moms have any advice to make the whole undertaking easier…fire away! I am in need of some serious input.  I figure I’ll need a secure place for O to play.  So far, O doesn’t seem to mind being in his pack and play.  He actually seems to like it.  If I put a few toys/activities in there, he is usually quite content to amuse himself while I get dinner ready or go to use the bathroom.  But packing up a house? Eek! That’s a little more time consuming. And a pack and play isn’t a very big space for him to move around in.   I guess I will  rely on his nap times? And after his bedtime? Woof! This is gonna be one crabby tired Mama.  I guess it will all just happen, as everything does.  One day at a time.  One box at a time.  One foot in front of the other….all while keeping a routine that O can count on.  Did I say “Give me strength?”  Oh, that was the third time? Well, third time’s a charm.  Wish me luck, Ladies.

Until next time, keep on keepin on.  And remember, behind every great kid, is a mom who is sure she is messing it up! 🙂 Like me! Like 20-30 times a day! 🙂


Car Seat Cry Baby


I feel ridiculous.  It’s silly to even write about.  But it’s been the big change that’s been haunting me all week.  O has graduated from his infant car seat to his big boy car seat.  The car seat  that will stay with him until he doesn’t need one anymore. (Boy,  THAT day isn’t gonna be pretty for this Mama.)  I feel idiotic for telling you, but I cried the day we switched his car seat.  I literally shed tears.  What the Hell?

Why can’t I be like the Moms who celebrate these milestones with a saucy “thank God!” and move on.  It just seems like it’s all going by in a flash.  Like he is growing with reckless abandon.  And there is nothing I can do to stop it.  So I’m emotional.  That’s not a stretch for me, as  anyone who knows me can attest. But I’m more so now.  How will I navigate all the changes and milestones to come?

I recognize that I am not only sad about this recent event, but I am fighting it every step of the way.  I found myself saying today, “It’s just so hard now.  I hate going out!”  Let me tell you since O was about three weeks old, I have taken him out, one place or another, almost every single day.  It’s rare that we don’t have some adventure to go on each day.  But I have been spoiled. I had a Graco Click and Connect Travel System.  I’d get him set in his car seat in the house..carry it out to the car, click him in and we were off.  When we got to wherever we were going, I’d take the car seat out and click it into the super easy stroller frame.  I had it down to a science.  And O liked it.  We had our rhythm.  Now, I have to carry him out to the car….get him into his seat whilst bent over into the car (not easy)…and when I arrive wherever the hell it is I thought it was a good idea to go to, I have two choices.  I either get the very light, but yet ridiculously cumbersome, umbrella stroller (which is a ludicrous name, because when it rains, it will NOT keep baby,  or you, dry.  In fact, quite the opposite).  Or I get my jogger stroller…which weighs 30 lbs.  So I hoist one of these contraptions out of the car and then hoist my 27lb baby boy out of the car seat, in a hunched over manner, so as not to hit my head or the baby’s head on the car.  I try to remember not to lift with my back.  I try to remember to use my abdominal muscles…yeah, right.  All while O is not, I repeat, NOT loving this new routine.  Then I have to strap him into the stroller, hang the diaper bag on the handles…..and get inside wherever it is I was dumb enough to venture off to in the first place.  If there are multiple stops, I’d like to shoot myself.  If there is rain involved I think I will just stay home.

Everyone says it will get easier when he can get in and out himself.  Well, that’s a long time away, I think. I am blessed with a beautiful boy, but he is a big boy for his age.  He became too long for the infant seat over a month ago. I started to feel like some Good Samaritan Mommy was going to report me for having my son in a seat he was clearly outgrowing.  And because he is young…I miss seeing him when we are strolling along.  And I swear, he doesn’t like it.  He might wonder “Where is Mommy?”  as he faces forward in this strange new world.  Right?  Or is it just me, fighting it every step of the way?  I could have sworn today that he was feeling scared and alone as he faced forward, rolling along….but he actually had a very wet diaper.  A wet diaper that I was out of tune with, because I was so convinced he was unhappy to be facing forward.  Because this Mommy was unhappy her baby was facing forward.  Unhappy that her baby was gaining independence.  That he was, indeed, moving on.  I don’t like it.  I don’t like it one bit.

I’m going to brood about this some more, I fear.  They say that time goes by quicker as you get older.  Have you heard that? I think it’s true.  But I think when you are older you cherish the time more.  I know that when I was younger I took time for granted.  Not the case now.   I am SO aware that this time with O is flying by.  If one more well meaning, but yet unsoliciated, granny tells me, “It goes by so fast,” I’ll scream….”I KNOW!!! STOP REMINDING ME!!”  Like right in her face! And really loud! It also doesn’t help that this all coincides with that time of the month for me.  When it rains it pours! Just don’t use the umbrella stroller that day.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight…and I’ll try to get a hold of myself.  Remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is certain she is screwing it up.  🙂


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!