Pretty Little Lies: You do have a favorite…and so do I.

img_0388I was one of the last great believers in Santa Claus, simply because my parents said it was true and I didn’t have the desire to disprove them. Fat old man in red suit brings us the presents you’ve been “hiding” in your room in plain sight, mom? To a half Jewish, half Buddhist family? Great! If I leave my dirty tooth under my pillow, I’ll find money from a full-grown adult fairy who collects them? Fantastic! Those mean kids are “just jealous” and it’s not because I still play with my Barbies in 7th grade and sleep in my mom’s bed? Makes perfect sense!

With this in mind then, you’ll surely understand that when I asked my mom my very favorite question to ask her, and she gave me her very reasonable and fair answer, I absolutely believed her:
“Mommy, who is your favorite?”
“Honey, I don’t have a favorite. I love you all equally!”
Roses and sunshine ensue. Beautifully put, mom! Even though my brother is your only son and your firstborn, and my sister is the baby of the family by nearly 8 years and the one we always called your “miracle”, you are such a dedicated mom that you see that my worth as a middle child is exactly equal to that of my siblings. Huzzah!

I would probably have still believed this 30 years later, and happily so. I bought it after I had my first child, no easy baby by any means, but heaven help the brave and stupid individual who called him anything less than an angel. Continue reading

That’s not a glow. It’s perspiration.

It is safe to say that I have shirked my blog of late.  It is not the only, nor the most important, of the “duties” I ccbc92e6-4f00-4d58-94e4-5fc4844e0ca0have been putting off in the last 3 or so months. Without boring you with the exhaustive list, we will just say that my conditioner does not need to be replaced as often as it once did, and when my doorbell rings, regardless of the time of day, my 1-year old screams, “Pizza!” and gleefully runs to the door to accept dinner. (In fairness to me, he is only right about 80 percent of the time.) Sometimes I think I am lazy. Sometimes I think I am busy and overwhelmed. Really though, as my new physical form would tell any interested onlooker, in case they hadn’t yet heard my 3-year-old announce how HUGE his mommy’s belly is and how many babies she is holding in it, I chalk it up to this: I am pregnant. (With one baby. Just one. My belly is just kind of big and my kid is just kind of mean.) Continue reading

A Bedtime Blessing for my Babies

FullSizeRender.jpgThe sun is resting now, boys, so it is time for you to rest too. Tomorrow, there will be magic and wonder and joy in  your day but for tonight…

May you quickly feel the peace of sleep.

Like in under 45 minutes because The Real Housewives of New York is on tonight, and Luann has lost her shizz and I can’t miss that.

May all your dreams be sweet ones.

Because if you tell me one more time there is a monster in your room at 4 am, I am going to take Sully and Mike Wazowski out back and kick their furry asses. As I told you at 8:00, and 8:30, and 9:15, this is a monster-free zone. Mommy won’t let you have a dog or a kitty so she certainly isn’t letting a stinky, hairy monster live here.

May you feel warm and cozy as you rest your sweet heads.

So please don’t pee through your diaper. And if you do, please be so tired that you don’t notice. Because the only thing worse than scaring away the monsters at 4 am is changing the damn sheets in a crib.

As you sleep, may you grow in body and mind and soul.

One suggestion for an area of growth? Telling time. Please learn how to tell time and please believe me when I say that 5 am is not morning. It is indecent to call it morning and it will make the people around you hate you. At least until their second cup of coffee.

May the stars and moon watch over you and keep you safe until the sun comes back out to play.

But please know that I mean that figuratively. Because when you peek out of your shades at the very first crack of dawn, and stand up on your tiny train bed screaming, “Mama! I did it! I slept by myself! [Editor’s note: He didn’t.] The sun is up and it’s a beautiful day and the trees are awake and I wanna go downstairs and I want a banana and I want a blue and I want to watch Paw Patrol! Mama?? MAMAAAAAAAAA!!!”; Well, my darling boy, even the stars and moon have an opinion on you and…see above.

Amen.

Hello World!

img_9934I am really into natural birth.

By that I mean, I planned a natural birth with my first son but had a pretty damn glorious epidural instead.  My second baby was born in the fastest and most painful 2.5 hours of my life, most of which were spent at home waiting for a sitter, thus allowing me to imagine I would have turned down an epidural had I been offered one.  Ahh, sweet, beautiful, natural birth.

In my plan, my writing, my musings about motherhood would also come about very naturally. I would caress my big pregnant belly and daydream about how I was going to utilize all of that time while my baby was sleeping to share my beautiful new mothering experiences. I would rest my baby on his nursing pillow while simultaneously nourishing his little body with my milk, and quietly, but confidently, hammer at the keys of my laptop. It would be sunshine and rainbows.  It would be sunshine beaming down upon unicorns riding rainbows. Gosh, I was going to be a really, really fantastic mom. Continue reading