When college talk began a few months ago, the kid who I predicted would want to remain close to home, started researching schools in four different states, because they offer top meteorology programs. This boy, who once wailed when even one speck of a routine was changed, who still otherwise hates unpredictability, is fascinated by changes in the weather. Which only proves one thing: as well as we know them, we can't predict what our children will do, or be interested in, after all.
Here at LoveMom, we bring you the love. Our weekly Baby Bytes bring you everything else. This week, Gwyneth Paltrow opened up about her feelings of failure during her experience with postpartum depression while the governor of New Jersey went on vacation during a statewide emergency. These stories, along with 20 resolutions for taking care of Mom, show that women can—and should— take a time out and cut themselves some slack.
Do you really need to have the same interests to make a marriage work? We don't and, at the end of the day, we come to the dinner table with lots to talk about and lots to share.
Do all mothers know what my more experienced friend told me about our children's childhoods? That they go by in an eye blink? And do all mothers, like me, anticipate the days when it will all be a memory?
When I had children, there was the fleeting fear that my days of throwing fabulous parties had come to a finale of their own. I ushered this thought out the door – right along with the suggestion of elastic-waisted mom jeans – and reaffirmed my commitment to throwing memory-making soirees. Sure, the parties and my style have had to evolve, but now that the bottles of white I serve are as likely to hold white grape juice as Chardonnay, here’s what I’ve learned about entertaining post-Mommyhood.
Six years before having a child, my husband and I bought a four-bedroom colonial. With two incomes and a heady feeling that life would always keep expanding, we tended to do things big. Like holidays. Thanksgiving weekend was D-Day, when the attic yielded dozens of bins crammed with decorations—holiday towels for the bathrooms, pine boughs to wrap the banister, and holiday motif glassware, china and more. Our first son was born into this giddy, much-too-much way of decorating. hen, the September when he was 3, I had a miscarriage.
My husband is in sales. He is wonderful at his job and has grown in his career. Unfortunately, moving up the sales ladder generally means that you’re going to be traveling – a lot. Earlier this year, I said “Adios” to corporate America and turned to freelance writing to keep me sane while staying at home with my children full-time. It’s a good thing I did – a few months later, my husband’s schedule shifted and he was suddenly required to be out of town Monday morning through late Wednesday night every. single. week.
I love the holidays, but they make me so tired. I am sure there are husbands out there who do all the baking, decorating, shopping, wrapping, card writing, schedule arranging, cooking, cleaning, and advance thinking and planning that goes into the holidays. That's a fantasy I cling to, at least. But in my case, I’m the one who does all of this. To keep myself going and hold it together, I’ve created some strategies to help me survive the Claus season.
I'm glad I have sons... and only sons. My friends who are mothers of daughters only say that if I had given birth to two females instead, I'd be just as glad to have daughters. I'm not so sure.
In a couple weeks, my wife and I will take our seventh transatlantic trip with children, and our second with two children. The dread started months ago when we bought our tickets.