As I embark on my 37th year of life, there’s one gift I’d love to have.

I’d love to quit the anxieties and negative thoughts that constantly ping-pong in my mind. I’d love to not feel self-conscious and awkward when I talk to people. I’d like to learn how to accept myself – faults and all.

Like most women, I am my toughest critic. When it comes to the ugly and hateful things I often say to myself, I realize I’d never say those things to someone else. In fact, if someone else were to say the same things to one of my friends or a family member? I’d give that person a verbal ass kicking.

A few days ago, my mother-in-law took me aside. She said she thinks I’m too hard on myself. That I downplay my strengths. I shouldn’t put myself down so much. I don’t know my worth.

That’s true. 

So as I celebrate one more year under my belt. I hope to find inner peace. I hope I’ll learn how to gauge my strengths and accept my weaknesses. I hope to stop berating myself for mistakes everyone makes. I hope to quiet the nasty inner voice that tells me I’m not good enough, attractive enough, smart enough or just plain “enough.”

Life is too short. And I hope that next year, at this time, I can celebrate a rebirth of sorts.

Wish me luck. I’ll need it.

***

(We interrupt this post to pimp the projects I’ve been working on…) Now that the holiday season is upon us, may I recommend Wii’s Littlest Pet Shop game? Or maybe head over to Parent Bloggers Network to find out what’s being said about Hotwheels’ newest toys and three stories about a little fairy named Eve. Oh and a fellow St.L blogger (and friend) is being spotlighted on St. Louis Blogger’s Guild. Check it! And there’s a giveaway for a WordWorld bucket of blocks at my reviews site.

The support I received after this post was amazing. (Thankfully, the scary ordeal is no longer “scary” nor an “ordeal”.) But I wanted to thank everyone who took time to read the post and comment. So I’ll be thanking a group of people as a part of each post until I’ve thanked everyone.

So thanks to: Todd, Sarah and the Goon Squad, Alissa, Baltimore Girl, Veep Veep, Jen, Ruth Dynamite, Ali, Christine, Jess, Ben, Damselfly, Shandon Fowler, Toni, Chris, Josh, All Adither, Issa and Kyla.

I know this is late but… The Rofl awards are back, thanks to Oh the Joys and Chicky, Chicky Baby. If you haven’t seen their list yet, take a look. But don’t forget to read the one I nominated from Hola Isabel on her recent vacation at a nudist resort.  

Speaking of vacays… I’ve been out of town for a few days. (Hence lateness of this ROLF mention.) Vegas to be exact. Its been awhile since I’ve been to Vegas (at least ten years) and even then it was for work. So this experience has been much different. There are things I couldn’t help but notice…

* Do women have to have boobs a certain size before they let you into this city? Seriously. The locals, tourists… almost every woman has big chi-chi’s, be them store bought or real. (If so, how did I get in?)

* Saw the “Blue Man Group”. Very clever, creative and cool. I can see why they are so popular. Throughout most of the show I thought, “Seth would think this is the coolest thing ever!” and “If Seth saw BMG, he’d want to be one of them for Halloween!”  Suffice to say, its not just a show, its an experience.

*”The Blue MOM Group”. Between all of the great parentbloggers out there, we could put all kinds of funny material together. Who’s with me now?

*The hotel we’re staying in ROCKS. Newly built and purty.

*You can easily spend $100 on alcohol for two people in less than a day’s time. That sounds like alot of booze but… If you and the hubs have a drink by the pool in the afternoon, a drink at dinner, and later a few at a club? And those drinks are anywhere from $14-16 a piece not including tip? Oy.

* You know that scene in Sound of Musicwhere Maria makes the Von Trapp children play clothes out of her bedroom drapes? We went to a club where girls (in their early 20’s wearing outfits that looked as if they were made up of a few strands of shiney, black dental floss) were dancing on little round stages that looked like big tree stumps. While wearing jeans and a short-sleeve shirt, I had a “Maria Moment” where I felt strongly compelled to turn my pair of jeans into outfits for all seven of the teeny, tiny go-go girls. (Being that these girls are size 0 to 00, it really would only take one pant leg!)

*My husband and I danced next to two of these girls. I told him, “Enjoy it now. This is as close to a threesome as you’ll ever get.” 

*Oh and a bouncer of the club we went to Sunday night? Used to live in a town right next to the ours. Small world. Eh?

 It has been a great trip thus far. But I’m missing my little boy. He’s my home. And with him is where I belong.

The support I received after this post was amazing. (Thankfully, the scary ordeal is no longer “scary” nor an “ordeal”.) But I wanted to thank everyone who took time to read the post and comment. So I’ll be thanking a group of people as a part of each post until I’ve thanked everyone.

So thanks to Mom 101, Jeannette, Hol, Jennifer, Lin, Mrs. Chicken, Cynematic, MMP, Maracee, Debbie, Jan, Jen, Queen of Spain, Slouching Mom, Tami, Megan, Kirsten, and Sarah.

Recently Kristin’s boys were talking about the phrases she uses most often — so often they’d probably end up on her tombstone. And then she asked her readers, “what phrases will be on your tombstone?”

Here are some of mine:

“Are you wearing underwear? Because we can’t go to grandma’s unless you’re wearing underwear.” (The boy likes to go “commando” and that really freaks out my mom.)

“No being bossy. That’s MY job.”

“Get your finger out of your nose.”

“Dude. Stop giving yourself a wedgie.” (Really, what is WITH that?)

What phrases are you known for by friends and family? What will be on your tombstone?

So I just got back from a certain conference with a certain manufacturer in New Jersey. (Yeah, I know! I have NO clue why they’d invite me either.) I can’t wait to talk about the all expenses paid trip but will have to do so on my review blog. 

 My computer is hosed right now. The hubby has let me use his laptop for a few minutes. So I just wanted to post a little “hi.” And let you know my posting/visiting/Twittering will be sporadic over the next few days. (Or until I get a computer to use.) Am all twitchy — haven’t read your blogs in about a week. Am dying to know what’s going on with you all.

We took Seth to his first Cards game this past Friday night. It was FREEZING. But fun. Even with discounted tickets (in the nosebleeds) it still added up to be an expensive family outing. So I’m just wondering, have you taken your kids to a professional sporting event yet? If not, why? If so, why? Is cost an issue? Do you figure “it costs what it costs” or do you cringe anytime you add up how much you paid for the entire adventure?

Just wondering…  

“You’re getting a hunchback. I think you’ve got osteoporosis*,” a certain person** tells me. In fact, almost every time I see her these past few months, she expresses concern in regards to my rounding back.

I’d like to scream. But instead I say politely, “Well, that’s just the way I stand.”

No one has ever made an issue of my posture until now. And for the record, no one has ever had to. I’m painfully aware of my rounded shoulders and stance. I see it in the mirror, in photos, and even in video.

Over the years I’ve tried in earnest to correct this problem. But after as little as 10 minutes of standing perfectly straight, my back and shoulders begin to ache. I start to feel as if I can’t draw a deep breath. My neck and even the base of my skull start to throb. Frankly, standing straight is very uncomfortable.  And when I’m physically tired or feel emotionally beaten, I slump over even more. Although back and stomach exercises help, it doesn’t entirely remedy the pose. So over the past few years, I stopped trying. I pour my energy into something I deem far more constructive and simply cease to entertain any more posture-producing notions.

What this person doesn’t realize is, that each time she mentions this issue, she’s verbally sticking a knife into a wound that has never completely healed. I was a very awkward child. I was uncoordinated, dorky-looking and wore obvious hand-me downs. My working-class parents were (and still are) very high strung, strict people. I was painfully shy, socially awkward and equally as anxiety-riddled as they. I had no sense of self-worth. I was an easy target for put downs, insults and pranks from other girls AND boys. If I wasn’t getting picked on in class, it was coming from some other kid in a grade above me. If it wasn’t during class, it was happening at lunch, recess, standing in line for the bus or while riding the bus. Between myself and a good friend, (who I’m still friends with today) we were the “social rejects” of our class. I was constantly reminded of my family’s economical/social standing. We were, (gasp!) “have-nots” in a room full of “haves.” Most of those “haves” never let me forget that. (My sister had the same issues with the kids at our school.)

By fifth grade, I started slouching. Looking back it was a subconscious attempt to remain as invisible as possible. If I didn’t attract any attention, maybe no one would see me. If no one saw me, maybe I could get by without being made fun of? I think it did work to some extent. But it was also just one more thing that could be used against me by my peers as I got into junior high.

I went on to attend a public high school filled with other (gasp!) working class kids. Most of us had after school/weekend jobs. Most of us stressed over how we’d pay for college. The kids with the closet full of designer clothes were the ones that seemed out of place. High school was one of the happiest times of my life – I had friends who valued me for who I was. (I feel so lucky and proud to know them.)

High school, college, and early adulthood quickly passed. But I never have been able to shake the slouch. I can still remember quite vividly the teasing and tormenting. I am still a very shy person at heart. The thought of strangers noticing me fills me with dread. I still aspire to be invisible when out in public. And so I still slouch. But frankly? It works.

I know poor posture looks bad and can convey a negative first impression. But I’d like to think at this point in my life, people are able to see beyond something so superfluous. I’d like to think they notice my smile or value my sincerity more so than how erect I stand. I’m not an “improvement project”. I’m a person. I am who I am. If I’m ok with the way I stand, why can’t this person accept that? 

If I’m going to commit to enchancing anything it would be to better my marriage, writing skills or character. And that way of thinking isn’t going to change anytime soon.

*I don’t have osteoporosis.

**Person is related to me but not by blood.  

Saturday morning began unlike most. I’d gone to bed hazy, tired and emotionally drained the night before. I awoke intensely angry, tired and on edge. I snapped at my son and simmered in anger. My head pounded, so I fetched a fountain soda. (It seems to work sometimes.) When I got back home, my son was upstairs talking to his father. He stood out in the hallway when he heard me open the door.

“Daddy says you’re really selfish for only getting yourself something and nothing for us,” he said.

It was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. At that point, I felt so angry I’m surprise my head didn’t explode. Although that would have been quite messy, it definitely would have spared both men of the house the tirade I unleashed.

I stomped up the stairs. “Do you WANT to talk about SELFISHNESS?” I screamed at my husband. “DO YOU REALLY WANT TO GO THERE?”

Suffice to say, I unleashed a very strongly worded monologue in a very sharp tone about how I felt and why. Ideas were exchanged in a nonconstructive, hurtful way. Our perspectives on a number of instances were vastly different. 

You know what they say. There’s three sides to every story. There’s my side, your side, and the truth.

After a bit of time, we calmed down and really talked. We worked through the hurt and frustration. The bottom line is I need more from him — more support, more kind gestures and for him to be more emotionally involved. He’s a good man. He works hard to provide for our family. We have a comfortable home and life. Seth has some amazing opportunities. This is all because of HIS efforts, brain, ambition and talent. But most women will agree — financial support isn’t the be all and end all. We need more from our partners.

We ended our fight with concessions. We made sure to let Seth know we weren’t upset with him. We still love each other and we worked things out.

I went about the rest of the day cleaning, paying bills, running errands and feeling even more emotionally haggered than I had felt Friday night.

Then Seth’s BFF came over to spend the night. We’d promised them a trip to Seth’s most favorite place in the world - the City Museum.

“I can tell you’re tired and don’t feel good. You’ve had a rough week. Why don’t you stay home and watch chick flicks while I take these boys to the City Museum,” he offered.

I took him up on his offer. “I don’t know if I’ll even be awake long enough to watch anything,” I said. “But thanks. I need some quiet time.”

He hugged me and whispered sweet words – a healing balm for my battered soul.

I watched them leave. Relief washed over me.

We live. We learn. We love. We hurt. When we forgive, we grow. And then we do it all over again, tomorrow.

Today Whymommy is in surgery to remove the aggressive cancer she discovered last year.  

Years ago when Susan and WonderDaddy married, my mom cut out their wedding announcement then taped it to the fridge for me to see the next time I visited.  (For those who don’t know, WonderDaddy and I grew up in the same small town and were in the same grade school class — a class comprised of 26 kids. So when a former classmate has a baby or gets married, I usually find out through mom.)

I remember stopping by the fridge when I caught a glimpse of a familiar last name. I remember reading the write-up then taking a minute to examine the black and white photo.  While the couple’s picture was small, it was obvious that the love and happiness felt by the two was vast and deep. I remember seeing an enormous amount of pride in WonderDaddy’s eyes and thinking, “she must be an incredible woman to have captured his heart like that!”

I never thought I’d get a chance to get to know this bride with the beautiful smile. But I did, as have many others.  Susan has managed to give so many of us a precious gift while she battles cancer. Time and time again, she’s given us a glimpse into who she is. She’s given us the gift of perspective, wisdom, hope and humor. Time and time again, I think of my old classmate and can understand how he fell so very head-over-heels in love.

Thank you Canape for inspiring me (as well as a bunch of other women) to write about Susan on this day.

As 2008 beckons, I’m feeling more thankful than ever. I’m thankful to you — the dear people who read this silly little mommy blog. The fact that you stop by from time to time to see what’s going on means the world to me.

If you click HERE, you’ll see a little something I put together to express my gratitude. (You might recognize some of the people in this little slide-show.) Hope you like.

And I hope this new year brings you good health, a sense of peace, lots of love, chocolate and naps. Definitely naps!

Take care! Oh and I’m dying to know… Are you making any new year’s resolutions? If so, what are they?

A boy and his mother walk into Macy’s. The lanky lad, who looks to be about 15, walks a few paces ahead. Although they share similar facial features, their expressions are vastly different.

The look he throws about says, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Hers says, “We haven’t spent time together in awhile. This is kind of nice.”

I watch them intently. It is the winter of 2002. My little boy is 6 months old. I find myself seeking out and studying the dynamics between mothers and sons. No matter the age or life stage of the parties, their interactions fascinate me.

Within a few seconds, the skulking young man is navigating through the women’s section and moving toward the escalator. His mother silently follows. Then she sees a brightly colored sweater. She stops a second to admire the sweater, to touch the material before she calls out to him.

Upon hearing his name, the boy stops in his step, rolls his eyes, then turns around and walks back to his mom.

“What do you think of this sweater?” she asks, holding it to her shoulders. “I really like this color.”

“Whatever mom. I don’t care.” He uses an irritable tone, emphasizing the last three words. He starts to slowly walk away.

She winces at the remark. She hangs her head as she slowly puts the sweater back on the rack. She gives it a final smoothing then walks quickly to catch up with her son.

The “weary breastfeeding mother who’s neck-deep in diapers” in me is tempted to grab him by the shoulders and admonish him. I want to point out the injustice he’s done to his mother. I want to command him to respect her. I want to point out the sacrifices she’s made, the nights she’s comforted him, the meals she’s fed him and the countless little things she’s done for him to show her love.

I’ve thought of that memory alot as the years have passed. As the relationship between Seth and me slowly changes, my perspective of that incident evolves as well.  Now, I see this boy’s actions as something less personal. He is, in an incredibly awkward and painful way, trying to assert his independence. He aspires to be his own man. While he does not want to need his mother, she knows he still does.

I hope his mother, after a few minutes, realized that his indifference wasn’t really about her. I hope she realized he was in the middle of uncharted territory with limited life experience. He was dealing with this separation process the only way he knew. He didn’t stop to think about his actions or how this process affects his mother. But, to be honest, how many of us at that age have?

I may be completely wrong in my theories. I’ve never mothered a teen boy, nor have I been one so really, what do I know? I write this in case I’m right. Because I hope that in 10 years, I can remember “its not personal” myself. 

Dear Cindy Crawford,

I’ve been a big fan of yours ever since I found out you grew up in DeKalb, IL. I grew up in a small town in rural Illinois too! And it cracks me up that people told you early in your modeling career to remove your mole if you wanted to work. But you didn’t. Turns out that little mole is what made you stand out.

We don’t see much of you anymore. You’ve got kids to raise and a marriage to maintain. But recently some photos of you did surface. And those photos? Are what has made me completely adore you. I hope that if/when you saw those you didn’t cringe. Because you shouldn’t. Thanks for that pic. It helps the rest of us mere mortals to see that even a supermodel isn’t immune to the havoc of pregnancy.

For the record? You are still way, way, way hotter than those Hollywood ho’s half your age!

Sincerely,

Midwestern Mommy

P.S. Just in time for Christmas…. A review (on behalf of Parent Bloggers Network) of a supa cool product (JumpStart) can be found at Midwestern Mommy Reviews! Check it out!

Dear Danielle,

Last night we e-mailed each other and did a bit of catching up. It was so fun! You mentioned that you a mere five months from turning 21. You’re counting down the days. I had to laugh as nostalgia washed over me.

As of midnight, I turned 35.

Seems so freaking old, right? I know! I thought the same thing at 20. (I’m now considered to be of “advanced maternal age.” That made me laugh out loud just typing it!)

I know what’s ahead of you… What you’ll experience in your 20’s. I envy you all of the adventures you’ll have. You’ll finish college. You’ll embark on a career. You will travel. You will meet tons of new people. You are going to have SO much fun along the way. You may even get married and start a family.

But honestly? I’d rather be 35. I may be about 15 pounds heavier than I was at 21, (Ok. So maybe more like 20.) but I feel so much more comfortable in my skin. The perspective you earn as the years pass is such an amazing gift. Things that seemed like the end of the world at 21 or 23 don’t seem like such a hurdle now. Most of the chicks I know that are well into their 30’s? Know what they want and need. And they aren’t scared to ask for it. They have “balls.” And that’s a good thing.

You are gorgeous, smart, and have an amazing figure. But I don’t envy you the angst that comes with being in one’s 20’s — of not knowing what you are truly capable of. Of not fully knowing yourself. 

But with each passing day, you will learn. You will laugh, cry, be amazed and ponder many things. We all do those things. But life just seems more vivid and emotionally vulnerable during that decade.  You don’t know how strong you are until you’ve been through some, well… shit. Just remember that it will pass. You will emerge stronger, wiser, and ultimately more self-assured. Please keep your eyes, ears and heart open. What you learn will greatly influence your actions down the road.

I wish you well, dear cousin. And I hope you keep me updated every step of the way. I’ll be cheering for you.

Love,

Lisa

We returned home last night tired but happy. Our trip to Louisiana to visit the hubby’s maternal and paternal sides of the family was a whirlwind of food, laughter, hugs, and car rides. T’was fun to see people we haven’t seen in years. Plus? Seth and I met some of Marc’s cousins for the first time. (Hi Cindy! Hi Ashley!)

I was going to gush about how great both sides of Marc’s family are. And seriously? They are! But I scraped it because the aforementioned Cindy and Ashley (as well as Marc’s aunt Marsha) gave me something this weekend that’s been sorely needed. And they don’t even realize it.

Cindy is the proud mother of a darling little girl. (She rejoined the ranks of full time working women this past Monday!) Ashley is the proud mom of an adorable little man named James. Ron (Marc’s uncle) and Marsha, (Marc’s aunt), are the proud parents of Carly, who’s finishing up college and looking at law schools. No other children are mentioned because like me, they each have just one child. It was fulfilling to talk to three women who are are varying stages of mothering their only children. More often than not, if I’m with a group of women, I’m the only mom with one child.

Shortly after Seth’s birth, I started getting the “So when are you going to have another child” inquiry. For the first 30 months of his life, when asked, I told people I didn’t know if I’d have another child. I felt so overwhelmed with all of his needs. I often got a quick, “You shouldn’t think that way! You’re going to regret having only one child when he’s grown. Besides, he NEEDS a sibling!”

This made me feel like shit. So when Seth got older and grew more independent, we began trying to conceive another child.  This hasn’t worked, obviously.

We’re no longer actively trying or planning to add to our family. (Some of the reasons “why” are unbloggable, sorry.)  It isn’t as if we’ve decided that we will absolutely never, ever add to our family. It may happen naturally or through adoption. But it may not. For now? Our little family of three feels complete. Seth may not have siblings, but he has cousins and lots of friends. There is no shortage of love, attention, or fun in his life.

But unfortunately others don’t “feel” the same way. And sometimes they can be rather vocal about it. (Typically these people have been ones who hardly know me or even strangers.) So at times there are comments about how Seth needs a sibling so he doesn’t turn into a spoiled brat. There have even been a few times a talker has hinted at my “selfishness” to stop at one child because, “when you are old, the burden of taking care of you will be on HIM.” Of course there have also been comments that insinuate my stopping at one means I value our disposable income and free time far too much.

Fortunately I don’t get those comments often. But I admit, they do send me into a panic to where I seriously question this decision for weeks. Because like all moms, I want to give my child my everything. I want to do right by him.

So this weekend, while hanging out with Cindy, Marsha, and Ashley, I saw how happy and satisfied they are with being moms to their only children. I witnessed the close bonds each mom shares with her child. I saw how these “only” children are like Seth in that they aren’t “lonely” children at all.

Cindy, Marsha, and Ashley? You helped me to toss aside some of the guilt and worry that’s eaten away at me over the years. If years from now, we become a family of four (or more), we’ll rejoice. But if that doesn’t happen, I know I will still be happy. And Seth will be too. 

Attention parents of budding scientists! There’s a super cool toy out just in time for Christmas. Click here to read a review on behalf of Parent Bloggers Network.