Provisional Independence

My son doesn't need me anymore. 

At least, that's what it seems he has provisionally decided.

This little boy, who is almost two, is asserting his independence a little more each day. He is becoming more vocal about what he wants. Actually, if you've met my son, you know that he is QUITE vocal. Loud would be a better descriptor. With us for parents he was pretty much doomed to be chatty. Until now, there had been a lot more babbling (with gusto, of course). 

Now, there is less guessing on our part. Now, there are phrases. He can tell me he wants an apple, instead avoiding the mess that inevitably came from me guessing he meant grilled cheese. And feeding him? Done. He must complete this task himself. As a side note, the dog will be quite disappointed that less is flung in his general direction during meal times.

This kid also insists on walking to the car when we leave the house. No more being carried. That's so infant-stage, mom. Jeez.

Each and every day I am reminded that he will never again be this little. Time goes so fast. Before we realize it, he will be off to college (at Arizona State University on a baseball scholarship, of course; class of 2035). It is this perspective that I hold tightly to during the moments when he reminds us he is in fact not quite two and throws an epic tantrum--likely due to frustration over not being able to communicate effectively, ironically.

Then again, when I drop him off at the sitter and he clings tightly to my index finger, looking to me for reassurance, I am so grateful. When I pick him up at the end of the day and he exclaims "Mommy!!" when I walk in the door and comes running, I think my heart might burst. At nighttime when I am rocking him to sleep and snuggling his precious face, I wonder if he will let me do that when he is twelve.

Wait...what?

There are many more milestones to come. The list is endless.

In the short term, I'm really looking forward to the day he can wipe his own butt. Really, completely manage that area himself.

Until then, this gal will be wiping his butt with a smile on my face.

Facebook-land!

I took a big leap of faith this morning and created a separate Facebook page for this blog.

EEK!

Image credit: Google

Writing a blog has always been about sharing my own life experiences and musings. The fact that other people were going to read anything I wrote was secondary. 

As a side note, I've got some papers on the containment policy for Communism in southeast Asia that I wrote in college if you're interested. 

Riveting stuff.

Given the number of likes on the Facebook page already, I couldn't be more thrilled that you all want to come along for the ride! If you haven't already, check out our Facebook page here and Like us so you will always get any updates.

Happy Mother's Day!

Today is Mother’s Day! Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mothers out there!

Let’s talk about what that means, shall we?

Being a mother doesn’t require that you birth a human from your loins. Mothers come in all shapes and sizes, mothering many creatures.

Two legs, four legs, fins...whatever.

Let’s be real: an animal is much like a small human—except they never talk, eat things they’re definitely not supposed to, and generally relieve themselves in undesirable places. Hmmmmm...it appears that they are in fact EXACTLY THE SAME. 

This dog was my first attempt at keeping anything alive other than myself. It seemed easy enough until I had this squirmy 8-week old puppy in my arms and realized I needed to teach it everything it needed to know about life. We both learned from each other, and Oz became my constant companion throughout my twenties. We went through some really ridiculous shit together. I wasn't there on the day he came into this world, but I was there on the day he left it and it broke my heart.

Then, I met the most amazing man and we knew pretty much immediately we had found a once-in-a-lifetime love. When we married, I didn't just marry him. I also married the most amazing seven year old girl who thought her daddy hung the moon (still does).

Now I had to figure out how to be a stepmother.

WHOA. 

Let me just tell you something: being a step-parent is the hardest job in the world. It is an awesome responsibility to parent another mother's (in my case) child. It is also not without its struggles. In my case, I stepped into the life of a seven year old girl who didn't have strong female role models. It became clear that she would watch so much; how I interacted with her dad, the fact that I went to work everyday and loved my job, and the fact that I had gone to college were all things that were very different for her to see in a woman for a variety of reasons. Now she was watching me. On the days when we had struggles, where everything I said, she did the opposite, where every time I said it was black she said it was white, it was so, SO hard. But there were also days when we had awesome girl time together and bonded, and I started to feel like I was shifting her view of women and her place in the world. There are more of those days than the hard ones. I hope that being in her life will influence the decisions she makes for her own life.

Then this guy came along.

Oh my goodness...I grew a human. And he is a perfect little human. Those of you that follow along on social media have watched this little person as he is growing. It's an awesome task to be totally and completely responsible for keeping someone alive. Especially when they cannot tell you what is wrong or what they need. You have to figure it out. And they don't talk. And sometimes you think you are absolutely going to lose your mind.

There are times I am still completely astonished that he is mine. When we visit the pediatrician and I have to give permission before he gets a vaccine, it's WEIRD. When someone from the CVS Pharmacy calls and asks to speak to Lincoln's mother, it still (he is almost two) takes me about five seconds before I realize I do not have to hand the phone to someone else.  

He is still alive and thriving, so I seem to not completely suck at it.

Just as I have a responsibility to my stepdaughter to raise a strong woman,  there is a responsibility to raise a strong, respectful man. He is watching how we do things, just as his sister is. I know that he will grow up to be an amazing man, because he watches his daddy treat me in a simply amazing way. If my son grows up to be half the man his father is, my contribution to this world will be complete.

These days, there is so much pressure on mothers. The moment people know you have a child those same people seem to have an opinion on how you are raising yours. 

Here's the thing: Eff them. Yep. I said it. 

You are raising that kid ("you" meaning, yourself and yours, if applicable), not them. So what they think: Does. Not. Matter.

The end.

Whatever decision you make, because your gut told you it was the right decision, is the right one.

So here is my Mother's Day gift to you (you are welcome in advance): cut yourself some slack. Drink some wine. If your kids go to bed at the end of the day with their bellies full, butts clean and some guidance from you, call it a win.