The TRUTH About Motherhood

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Throat Punch Thursday ~ Trayvon Martin & the Racist Vigilante Edition
Trayvon Martin this one’s for you
This week’s Throat Punch is being given out in honor of Trayvon Martin. As a mother, my heart aches for Trayvon Martin’s parents. As a human, I am outraged. As a minority, I am fighting mad. This week’s Throat Punch is awarded to George Zimmerman the vigilante bigot who thought it was appropriate to shoot a boy in cold blood for the simple fact that the color of his skin was brown. I know that bigots are afraid of anyone different, especially when the packaging is a darker shade or two than their own skin. This is not the first time this has happened nor do I suspect this will be the last.
Trayvon Martin was a Good Kid
Trayvon Martin, from all accounts, was a good kid who happened to come across a not so good adult with a trigger happy finger. I can’t imagine the pain and anger that Trayvon Martin’s parents feel at the death of their son nor do I ever want to know it. Isn’t every parent’s biggest fear that their child is going to come into harms way? A rogue drunken driver, a stray bullet, a crazed assailant, cancer, abduction, stranger danger, choking on a raisin, getting hit by a car, wrecking while texting? There are so many ways that we worry about our children getting into harms way, every day. We don’t expect simply walking home from the store to be a particularly dangerous scenario. Walking home from the store should not be deadly, should it?
What is this world coming to that we can tolerate this sort of behavior? How can we stomach it as a people? Zimmerman says that it was self- defense. Evidence proves otherwise. Just because he was a racist who felt threatened by the color of a boy’s skin is not a legitimate reason for shooting Trayvon Martin dead and robbing his parents of their son forever. There will never be any little Trayvon Martin’s running to his mother’s lap. She will not see her son graduate from school. She will not get to dance the Mother/ son dance at Trayvon’s wedding. She will not get to see the man her son was supposed to become. She will never get to know that man. He will not be there in her old age to hold her hand and comfort her at the end. Now, his parents are left with a giant void in their chest where their heart used to be. The great joy they once knew upon seeing that baby Trayvon Martin be born has been replaced by pain and hatred. Hatred for George Zimmerman.
Nothing can make this right. Apparently, the big debate now is whether or not George Zimmerman used a racial slur when addressing Trayvon Martin. Truly, the fact remains, whether he used a slur or not, that he is a bigot and shot Trayvon Martin in cold blood for no other reason that he felt threatened. Zimmerman was threatened for the simple fact that he had a predisposed notion to feel afraid of black men. This is racism, whether there is a slur attached or not. The sentiment is the same. The result the same. Trayvon Martin is still dead.
Trayvon Martin may you Rest in Peace
Photo

2012/03/22
Navigating the Play Date Arena ~Breaking Up is Hard to Do
Breaking Up is hard to do even with your play date~ We’ve all been there. That’s the moment in a relationship when you know it’s not going anywhere, and its certainly not moving forward, that’s the moment that you know its over. (more…)
2012/01/11
Throat Punch Thursday~ Fat Bottomed Kids Edition
Childhood Obesity ~Stop Childhood Obesity! I think we all know how I feel about Childhood Obesity and the obesity epidemic in general. I’m against it (more…)
2012/01/06
Ugly babies in the Cradle,Pretty at the Table
Let’s talk about the old saying, “ugly babies in the cradle, pretty at the table.” I had never heard of it and quite frankly, took great offence at the thought of an adult calling a baby ugly. Are there such things as ugly babies?
Have you ever heard this crazy saying?
As most of you know, I am walking around in a new baby (nephew) induced fog. I am seeing the world with new eyes and loving on my own daughters harder and stronger than I did a couple days ago because of my reminder of the preciousness of childhood. The moment my beautiful nephew entered the world, all I could think was how very blessed we all our to have our ~~babies~~ children in our lives.
From the moment I saw my daughters’ faces, they were the most beautiful baby, no human, I had ever seen. They still are. They will always be.
I am their mother and their birth was the culmination of a whole lot of love. Their very existence is a constant reminder of how very blessed I am in this life. It was like looking upon the sun. It was joyous and humbling. With each birth, I was metamorphisized into a better person (even if it doesn’t feel like it on most days).
I thought every mother felt this way when she saw her baby for the first time. I naively thought that every mother thought her baby was the most beautiful baby in the world because to her it is the most beautiful baby in the world. I never imagined someone would call their own baby ugly.
Ugly Babies don’t exist
This morning as I’m driving my girls to school, we are listening to the radio and the deejays are talking about a phrase used by parents “Ugly in the cradle, Pretty at the table” apparently this is something that parents say to console their children who they have told are ugly.WTF? Why would you ever tell anyone they are ugly, let alone your child?
READ ALSO: One in Ten Babies is Born this Way
Newsflash, people have mirrors they already know they are ugly. Kids know if they are not as cute as the kid next to them, but to their parents, they should be the cutest freaking thing in the world. It’s in the parent handbook. Didn’t they get it when they got that stupid ass free plastic diaper bag from the hospital?
Don’t tell your kids they are ugly. Don’t think your kids are ugly. And for the love of God, if you do think they are ugly (besides something being fundamentally wrong with you in the head) where do you think they got those damn ugly genes from?
Ugly Babies are A Myth
Look, I am living in the real world and I have perfect 20/20 vision so I do realize that some babies are cuter than others when they are born. Let’s be honest, most newborns look like one of two things; a little old man or a fuzzy ball sack. But we love them and to the parents who produced them, those babies are the most beautiful babies in the world.
By the way, how good do any of us look after taking a transatlantic flight or participating in fight club? Let’s be real, that’s pretty much what being born is like. How good did any of us look after giving birth and we were on the outside?
Precious
There are No Ugly Babies
I don’t know who came up with such a ridiculous saying as “Ugly babies in the cradle, pretty at the table” but I bet they were ugly on the inside and certainly need to be flogged. Stop using it!
Remember, next time you are thinking about saying how ugly a baby is, those ugly babies are somebody’s everything that is beautiful and good in the world. If you are a parent who has called your baby ugly, please email me a photo because I need to see what level of ugly it takes to make a parent call their own baby ugly.
READ ALSO: Does Advanced Maternal Age Really Mean You’re Too Old to Give Birth?
Please stop telling your babies they are ugly. They will look human in a couple of months. Now put your standard issued Mommy thinks you’re perfect glasses back on NOW!
Have you ever thought your child was ugly? Come on, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. We’ve all thought there are ugly babies out there, but usually not our own. I mean come on, we’ve all got an ugly cry. They don’t call it that because it’s pretty. I bet even Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie look pretty gruesome when they ugly cry.
I’m a realist, I am not opposed to the fact that there are ugly babies in the world. I am however opposed to the fact that there are parents out there who are stupid enough to not only think it but to say it out loud, to their little ugly babies. Just remember, there are no ugly babies just adults who should have thought before they spoke.
Do you think there is such a thing as ugly babies?
2012/01/04
Change~I just had a Come To Jesus Meeting..with Jose!
*Change anyone?* It’s that time of year again. You know what ‘m referring to, no not back-to-school, that was Monday. It’s a little over a month until my birthday and you know that can only mean ONE thing…mental, physical and spiritual inventory must be taken. This is my process so this morning I had my first ( of what will be many, many) come to Jesus meetings over the next year. I had it with Jose. No, it’s not some nickname we Latinos have for the almighty, it’s my little brother who is one ( as I found out the hard way this morning) hardcore, ass kicking personal trainer.Seriously, it’s his profession. I knew that he knew how to take care of himself, obviously. He’s always been in top physical shape since he was old enough to lift his first dumbbell. But we’ve never lived in the same city. Now, we do. This is Jose.
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This is Jose. This is 200 lbs. of badass personal training in a 160 lb. bag of cuteness.I think the photo says it all *Charming*
He who rejects change is the architect of decay~Harold Wilson
Doesn’t he look sweet? That’s what I thought. What you are looking at, my friends, is my salvation ( physically speaking anyways). Two years ago, we moved to a new city. My life hit the reset button. I joined Weight Watchers and lost 25 pounds. Life was good. Then the Big Guy was downsized. Life was not so good.I had to quit the program and since I am very apparently a stress eater, I ate those 25 pounds right back on and with them came a few more. I was depressed about it. Former eating disorder girl say what. It’s really hard trying to stay the straight and narrow when what you are doing is so NOT working. But I do. I fight the urge every day to seek the comfort of the path that I know. I fight to be a good example for my girls. I fight to be the change I want to see in the world for the young girls today. I want to be better than my circumstances.
Then last year, right smack dab in the middle of the whole commuter marriage fiasco, I was offered an amazing opportunity to be a Nutrisystem Nation Blogger. Again, I lost that 20 pounds and felt amazing. But then life started spinning out of control again. Then we had to put the house on the market, we were going to be moving and I was stressed beyond capacity. There was my old friend ( arch nemesis) food to comfort away the uncertainty. That is if comfort means to bury it deep down and surround it by a giant hug of fat. But the only uncertainty it remedied was the uncertainty of whether or not I would gain back those 20 pounds again. Guess what? I did! What can I say those damn 20 pounds llloooovvvveeee me! Me, not so much feeling that love.
If you don’t like something change it; if you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. ~Mary Engelbreit
That brings us to this morning. We are moved. I am hitting the reset again. Hopefully for the last time for a long time. I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am happy. I know it. I feel it in my very core ( well, that and a terrible side stitch that I haven’t been able to shake since my brother boot-camp). I have committed myself to the ~~drill Sargent~~ my little brother and made a promise to myself…I will feel comfortable in this skin of mine.Body dysmorphic disorder and Bulimia/Anorexia can all be damned. I’m not having it, ever again. With the help of my brother, the MOST invested, no nonsense personal trainer that anyone could ever ask for, fueled by a genuine concern and love for his sister, the next year will bring about huge change. I have a goal that I want to hit by my birthday next year and he is going to help me reach my goal. This is one of those moments in life where you are standing at a cliff and you have to decide if you want to take a chance and jump or maintain the status quo. I’m jumping! After this week, I may not be walking but I am jumping.
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We're going to call this the official BEFORE photo. I'll allow you to see me a sweaty mess but sweaty ponytail, no makeup and luggage under my eyes..A girl's got to maintain some tiny dignity:)
This journey is about more than just losing weight. It is about changing my entire lifestyle..forever. It’s no diets or gimmicks, it’s me facing the mirror and taking a good hard look at myself. It’s hard work personal training with my brother and learning to make good, healthy choices with real food. It’s me learning to live in the world. It’s me learning to love my body for all that it is and none of what it’s not. This is me, yelling it from the top of the cliff. I am proclaiming it to the world. It will happen. And this time when the first 25 pounds comes off, I’m giving all the clothes that are too big to the homeless shelter.I will do it every 25 pounds until all I am left with are the clothes that fit who I become.
My change starts right now
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2011/08/17
The Seven Stages of Second Baby Syndrome
I know many of us have picky eaters. My 3 year old would be perfectly happy to exist on nothing more than chicken nuggets for the rest of her life. Most days I fight with her, barter with her, do anything I need to do ( Dance monkey dance) to get her to eat something different..but some days….I don’t. I know. I am horrible. My kid’s going to turn into a giant chicken nugget. But the nuggets, or Nuggies as they are affectionately called in my house, are just a symptom of a much larger problem…Second Baby Syndrome.
Ahhh, I feel a weight has been lifted just by simply saying the words aloud.Many, if not all of you, know exactly this syndrome of which I speak. I’m not proud to admit this but it is the truth. With Bella, everything was perfect. What I mean to say is that I did my best to do everything right! She was always dressed adorably, not a hair out of place, all meals were up to food pyramid standards, just the right amount of sleep to play ratio. I read to her, I sang to her, I engaged her, TV time was limited, classes were taken, play dates were made and minds were expanded.I used to turn my nose up to those Moms that I saw in the grocery store, who looked like they had no mirrors in their house and so obviously should not have been parents..as they were yelling at a 3 year old at the top of their lungs because the poor kid wanted granola bars. Then we were blessed with Gabs.
One child is ONE CHILD but two children feels more like ten! I naively thought that having two would be as easy as one. ( What I meant to say as easy as my one was.)What did I know? Suddenly, my days went from doting, anticipating every need, hitting every milestone in stride and ending the day patting myself on the back for a job well done to feeling like I couldn’t can’t keep up. It all became a blur. A fog filled with love and clamor.Noise.Chaos.More love. It enveloped me.I fell into it willingly.But somewhere along the way, I got lost. I lost sight of all my expectations. I think I evolved (or perhaps devolved ) in my parenting skills, however you want to look at it.Somehow I became , what I now know to be, the exhausted, sleep deprived Mom whose husband travels for work all the time and who has not had a shower or shaved her legs for 3 days. And after a testing morning trying to get her older child off to school, she NOW is standing in the middle of the grocery with her 3 year old tantruming over the exact same granola bars that Mommy had to throw away this morning because said child had spat it out all over the new carpet because…it tasted “bad”. All I know is that it was not humanly possible for me to keep up at the pace I had been doing with one child. There had to be a give and take.
It’s a hard moment in motherhood when one has to accept this fact.It feels like defeat but really what it is IS growing pains.It’s you growing into your role of motherhood. I am certain I experienced the 7 stages of grief when letting go of my expectations of motherhood. First there was shock and denial. What? Both kids won’t nap at the same time?I can handle this.I don’t need sleep! 2nd stage, Pain and guilt. I can’t take this any more.Mommy needs some time to decompress too.Please go to sleep. Oh, no don’t cry. It’s OK. Say awake.I’m such a crappy Mommy trying to force my toddler to go to bed, just so I can have some alone time. I suck! 3rd stage, anger and bargaining. GO TO SLEEP!!! Just be quiet and go to sleep. Please go to sleep! If you go to sleep, I will take you to Chuck E. Cheese tomorrow. 4th stage, depression, reflection and loneliness. Crying because you feel overwhelmed. During this time, you finally realize the magnitude of your loss and it depresses you.You can’t be the parent that you had expected to be..because it’s impossible. You may feel isolated, left to reflect alone on your lost expectations and focus on what you thought things could have been.( Cue the montage of you and your pre baby body running in a field of lilies with your perfectly coiffed matching dressed little girls.) You may sense feelings of emptiness, failure or despair.5th stage, the upward turn. You begin to adjust to your new role with new expectations.Life will become calmer and more organized. What that really means is that your house will be dirtier, the meals will be less food pyramid organic and more chicken nuggets for the finicky pallet of the most distinguished toddler connoisseur. Mommy guilt will begin to lift. Stage 6, reconstruction and working through.As you become more functional, your mind starts working again ( mommy brain may have lifted a bit but, let’s be honest, probably not.It’s a slippery slope from pregnancy brain to Mommy brain to full on forget where you put your vajayjay this morning.. sun downers.I’m just saying). You will find yourself seeking realistic solutions to problems posed by motherhood. For example, the 5 second rule becomes perfectly acceptable.God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt, may be heard around the house.Summer afternoons in the pool may begin to qualify as bath time. And finally, you will reach stage 7, acceptance and hope.You learn to accept and deal with the reality of your situation. This in no way means instant happiness. There’s no magic pill for motherhood. Once you give in to the reality that parenting two babies is exponentially harder than one, you can adjust your attitude, your expectations and your technique. You can have hope that one day, you will sleep again.Someday…maybe when they are married and sleeping safely in their bed with their husbands. (Sucker, She’s your problem now!)
And so as I sit here, stuffing more random pieces of paper with notes scribbled on them into Gabs’ baby book, I am reminded of the quote ” Don’t be sad that it’s over, be happy that it happened!”~Seuss Be glad that you cared enough to have the expectations and to impose them on yourself in the first place. Then, go feed that kid some chicken nuggets before they throw a tantrum in the middle of the store:)
2011/02/16
The Diva Cup~Naturally Divalicious
The Diva Cup~Naturally Divalicious
Diva Cup test ~Have you ever…(?)
- co-opted toilet paper from a public washroom as a temporary measure *(GUILTY.How I hate the clump of TP waddle of shame)
- planned a vacation around your period *(Many Times.)
- avoided white pants for that one ‘special’ week of the month. I call it shark week for a reason, it’s dangerous.*(When I was a teenager,white was my enemy for this very reason)
- done a supplies hand-off with a girlfriend while the dates weren’t looking *(always and it’s never as covert as we plan it to be.Nothing like dropping a tampon to the floor in front of a blind date)
- cautiously tucked the telltale string into your bikini *(why must it always slip back out.I’m not a party popper, nor do I want to “celebrate’ my period)
- accidentally pulled a mystery object from your purse in front of a curious male audience *(Yes and it’s always a stranger not someone you know.Instead of your husband, it’s someone like your husband’s boss or a potential client. “just let me get a pen..Oops, never mind my tampon that just fell on your hand))
- scuttled to the washroom to survey the leak damage after a sudden ‘surge’ *(I hate knowing I’ve leaked and can’t do anything about it but run for the restroom and pray for mercy from the menstruation Gods)
- clogged your toilet with “flushable” feminine products *(let’s not bring up the septic system that my in laws love to remind that I ruined with my tampons)
- left a party with a jacket tied around your waist * ( or high school, the club, a wedding reception,PTA meeting,mass)
- had a tampon somehow turn itself completely around inside and lose the string *(My biggest fear realized)
The DivaCup to the rescue!!!
The DivaCup is a non-absorbent menstrual cup that simply collects menstrual flow. *( Ok, take a moment and get past the ICK factor. I know it sounds kind of gross at first thought. But it is amazing and Green (BONUS)). It is inserted into the vagina and sits at the lower base of the vaginal canal. It is worn internally, yet because it is soft and smooth, it cannot be felt nor will it leak when inserted properly.*(You may however need to trim the stem for comfort which is a very simple fix)

The DivaCup is the most clean and convenient method of feminine hygiene protection. No need to touch the flow. It is worn low in the vagina, not near the cervix, so it is easy to remove. No mess! * ( No more evidence left on your fingers from lodged strings) Just remove, clean with Diva wash, re-insert and leave in for 12 hours. So easy.

The DivaCup ends hassles with unreliable disposables in endless absorbencies, shapes and styles. It is perfect for all activities – giving women true freedom without the worry, guessing and unreliability that disposable feminine hygiene products pose. *( absolutely great for running, dancing, high impact workouts like Turbo Fire and even Zumba)

The DivaCup can be worn for up to 12 hours before emptying, washing and reinserting for use for another 12 hours. It can be used for light or moderate flows and is emptied more often to accommodate heavy flows. Perfect for overnight use. *(I loved not having to worry about getting up in the middle of the night to check for accidents on the sheets or to change my pajamas.)

The DivaCup’s expert, proprietary, patent-pending features make it comfortable and assures ease of use and reliability. Perfect for traveling, running, biking, hiking, dancing, camping, swimming, diving, scuba, yoga, extreme sports and more…
- Latex-free, BPA-free, plastic-free
- No dyes, colors or additives
- Comfortable, reliable
- Clean, convenient, easy-to-use
- Worn for up to 12 hours at a time
The Diva Cup is a modern miracle, as far as I am concerned. I have been plagued with a heavy, unpredictable period since I hit puberty way back in the 80’s. It’s been no picnic and has left me with intense cramps and praying for menopause. No more! The Diva Cup has eliminated the mess, is able to be worn on those days that I “might” be starting and relieved the cramps.Relieved the Cramps!!
I highly suggest that if you have not tried the Diva Cup you do! It may take a couple of cycles to get used to it but once you do, you will be thanking me for turning you on to the Diva Cup. Through the generosity of Diva Cup, I am giving away a Diva Cup to one lucky reader. All you need to do is become an email subscriber and leave me a comment telling me your best green tip. The random winner will be selected on Friday June 17 at 9 pm EST.
The DivaCup really is an ingenious product. It’s a wonderful alternative to disposable pads and tampons and offers unsurpassed protection and worry-free ease in an innovative design. So, before you just say NO give it a try – it really is a “menstrual solution”!
Where to buy? Check out the The DivaCup website for more information.
The Diva Cup~Naturally Divalicious
Disclosure: I was provided with a free Diva Cup to use in order to review the product and give my own personal opinions on the Diva Cup. The opinions I have given are mine and may differ from others but were NOT influenced by Diva Cup.
2011/06/13
….And Then I BECAME a MOM!
Today, I have the pleasure of having one of my favorite people and a fantastically talented writer, my great friend, the lovely Laura Willard of A(n)(Un)Common Family guest post as my final guest in my month long 2nd year blogiversary celebration.
“And while being a mom is a huge part of who I am – the part that changed me in ways nothing else could, that made me get in touch with an inner soft side (one that could actually cry!), the part that suddenly realized what true, unconditional love actually feels like – it’s not all that I am. There’s more to me, even if it’s far less adorable than my kids.”
Laura’s blog is about motherhood, marriage and how she has evolved over the years while maintaining the woman she was before the kids. It started with child adoption and she touches on just about every single issue a mother or woman can face. She shares her soul and knowledge all with a twist of a wicked sense of humor. I love her and so will you. You can also find Laura on Twitter. Thank you Laura for sharing your Truth about Motherhood. On a side note, if you are planning to adopt a child, you may also want to include open adoption in your options.
I need to get a few things out of the way before I start:
(1) If I didn’t love Debi, I’d hate her for putting me at the end of a month-long lineup of fabulous bloggers that humble me. I mean, really? I have to follow those ladies?! Have you been reading this month? They are ah-ma-zing.
(2) I have no free time. Washing my hair is a luxury. Okay, fine, I probably wouldn’t wash that shit regularly even if I had time, but you get the point. Free time = premium. Still, when Debi asked me to post here, I was thoroughly honored, even though I can’t keep up on my own blog, because I was asked by an amazing woman and mom that I’m proud to call my friend (and pillow-fight-in-lingerie buddy for BlogHer, but that’s for another post..).
Debi embodies what women and mothers should radiate – support, love and honesty. She doesn’t sugar coat the journey that is motherhood, she doesn’t BS and she doesn’t hurt.
And she’s beautiful – inside and out.
Okay, now I’m ready to share MY truth about motherhood
Fine, I don’t have one.
You caught me with my pants down.
(Gross. I know. I’m scared for you.)
I didn’t have a vision for motherhood.
I married my husband when I was very young. I wasn’t quite drinking-legal yet (we won’t talk about how long I’d actually been drinking at that point). He was eight years older (no, he didn’t have money and no, I didn’t have a crappy home life). I knew he was The One, and I was right. Ten years later, he’s still The One.
(It’s okay. Go puke. I just did.)
I always knew I wanted to adopt my kids and when I told him while we were dating, he said, “Cool. That sounds good.”
So after we were married for six years and after I’d finished law school, we started the process.
I was in control of my life. I was smart. I was calm. I had life by the balls.
And then I became a mom.
It rocked my world. In the best way possible. But it was rocked.
I became a parent to a child that had an entire life’s worth of experiences before he came to us at 10-months-old. A lot of work, over one year of entirely sleepless nights and physical and emotional stretching that I didn’t know was possible, occurred during the first year. But I figured it out.
And then 14 months later, I became a mom for a second time to a child whose immediate medical needs made mine look boring. And whose personality was the opposite of my son’s. So I went back to the drawing board and learned how to mother from scratch.
I’ve only been at this motherhood gig for three-and-a-half years. And yet I’ve learned more than I did during seven years of “higher education.” Would you like to know what I’ve learned?
(Of course you would.)
Not as much as I thought I would have.
Just when I think I know something, I learn something else that shows me that I didn’t quite know everything.
So I suppose I do have a few truths about motherhood. Motherhood teaches you something new every day. It humbles you to no end. Sometimes it stretches you so far you think you might break. But you don’t. And it fills your heart with unconditional love.
*P.S. Laura, you are amazing and I already loved you hardcore but after this post, I must say..you made me weep a bit:) What a wonderful way to end this series!XOXO
2011/05/30
Melissa Chapman~The TRUTH about Motherhood
Today, I am truly honored to have the lovely and witty Melissa of Married my Sugar Daddy. She writes with humor and honesty that make me keep coming back for more. If you have not had the pleasure of reading /knowing Melissa (@Madijack) , I certainly recommend that you get to know her. She is snarky and funny and 21 flavors of entertaining. I love reading her blog, I always come away feeling like I’ve been catching up with an old friend. She has made me laugh,cry and think…sometimes in the same post. Thank you so much Melissa for sharing your truth with so much going on right now. XOXO

The TRUTH about Motherhood
I really believed when I was smack in the trenches of arguing with my husband about not wanting him to buy the no-frills diapers-, since my kids ALWAYS leaked through them- that once the stage of them being completely dependent on me for their basic needs was done- I’d be in the homestretch.
I thought those early years- getting up at the crack of 2am to heat up a bottle (which I only realized after my second baby- was as simple as popping a cup of water into the microwave as opposed to boiling hot water over an open flame for 20 minutes) was the grueling part of motherhood. But the thing is- during all those early years- motherhood’s challenges are primarily physical. They test your endurance, school you on how to be a muti-tasker and at times make you feel like you are operating on auto-pilot. But your kids-unless they’re dragging around a soiled diaper- are for the most part, happy, smiling little babes, who let you dress them up and create your very own mirror image in them.
Then they grow up- and of course, no one tells you that the real meat and work begins then. As my kids have gotten older, the questions- that seemingly come out of nowhere have begun to permeate our every conversation at this breakneck pace- and my inability to keep up and juggle all their feelings, thoughts, self-esteem issues, confidence and little egos feels like a balancing act that is simply impossible.
I often feel ill-equipped to be the source for all these pressing concerns- like; who the hell am I to answer all these questions, assuage their fears and am I enough to be able to raise these two individuals and arm them with everything they’ll ever need to become independent enough to feel okay on their own. And I know I’m not alone in these thoughts, in my insecurities about motherhood. But honestly I just wish there was a manual that would fool-proof every impulse I have and make sure it was the correct one. The truth about motherhood is that no one tells you what an awesome responsibility this motherhood thing is- and that there are no guarantees it will all end up the way you want it to.
2011/05/25
Happy Accidents
Happy Accident Today is the 12th year wedding anniversary of the Big Guy and myself. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way we met and came to be engaged. It’s really a sweet story and when I recount it, it makes me warm and fuzzy inside. But knowing how dangerously close this all could have gone a completely different direction, it reminds me of how a Happy Accident changed the course of my entire life.

The Big Guy and I had a mutual girl friend in college who really wanted us to meet, as friends I mean REALLY wanted us to meet. She hounded me for weeks. After several failed attempts to meet one another, finally we were in the same place at the same time. I remember ditching my LSAT class that Monday night in September just to finally make his acquaintance. I walked into that bar alongside our mutual friend never knowing how this night would alter my perception of the world. I was expecting this guy to be the best thing since sliced bread. I mean after all, it was my friend’s best friend and she had nothing but good things to say about him. Instead of a knight in shining armor I found someone unexpected. My friend and I walked up to the bar and as I’m looking for the typical college frat boy, she stops short in front of this long, lanky, bleached blonde hair with BLUE tips, an eyebrow ring and smoking a cigarette boy.WTF?? I thought to myself,well, at least she’s not trying to set us up. To me, he looked like someone that I might have dated in high school when I was going through my “alternative” phase but no one I would date as a grown woman. She introduced us. I was cordial. I said, “Hi,I’m Debi” he nonchalantly cast his eyes downwards toward me and said “hey” barely acknowledging my existence.I immediately did not like him. I could barely stand him. Who did he think he was?Seriously?
As the night progressed, we ended up back at the house he shared with several other guys and they were having a party. Needless to say, the girl who introduced us and begged me to accompany her to the party, promptly disappeared, leaving me alone once again with this guy who , at first glance, seemed quite rude and disinterested in even having a functional conversation.
I had an astronomy exam that I desperately needed to study for and all I wanted to do was go home.But, being me, I had absolutely NO idea of how to get home.Finally,after hours of me sitting there waiting for my friend to reemerge, he offered to walk me home. Which, at first, I found the idea ridiculous but out of necessity I agreed. I was completely at his mercy. I was praying that the walk was quick and that he was not a serial killer. It started off as a walk, then he took me to the roof of the parking garage to point out constellations and we began to talk.Really talk. Then we continued walking, I learned later that he took the longest possible way home. I remember being at the soccer fields, lying on our backs looking up at the stars at that moment as night meets dawn and the birds start to sing and you are so deliriously tired but the excitement of the newness propels you forward. In those few hours, we shared our entire life with one another. After a stolen kiss and butterflies, he finally walked me home…and we’ve been together ever since.
Today, as we celebrate our 12th Anniversary of marriage, I look at him and thank God for happy accidents. I am also reminded that love can find you anytime, anywhere and to never judge a person by a first impression.Life is made up of second chances and good things can only happen if we’re open and willing to experience all of the happy accidents that life has to offer. I love you baby! Thank you for walking me home that night so long ago.
2011/05/15