Birth mom. Am I or am I not? My hubby and I were talking the other night as I was trying to write the bio for…
He had gone off in a corner somewhere and was nowhere to be seen when we began to eat. As we sat in the dining room eating and talking, we had no idea what was going on in the kitchen.
As I sat at my Mother’s Thanksgiving table looking at the fantastic sunset, I was filled appreciation for the opportunity to break bread with so many people I am lucky enough to call my family.
Following our first wedding anniversary, we went in for our third attempt at an egg retrieval for IVF. On the way to the clinic I shook my head and said, “this is just never going to work.”
He’s not the kind of kid who’s into sports, as a player or a fan, and never has been. He’s more interested in other things, like music and computers, and goes to football games only because he’s a member of the marching band.
At 50, I have two teenage daughters coming of age in a world where women and men are still not equal. Not even fucking close.
My cousin taught me to love the act of cooking and entertaining. She made me realize that it doesn’t always have to be a fancy tablecloth or state-of-the-art appliances to make dinner perfect.
My first thought as I looked at our table was, “Well, this is very Modern Family”. The widow with the divorced guy and four daughters between them, some with significant others, one being same-sex.
Every parent does it. We actively (and often aggressively) teach our children life lessons –the ins and outs, the rights and wrongs, the dos and don’ts…
I believe a parent feels it in their soul when their child is in the wrong place. Staying or leaving, you need to make the choice that is right for your family. Drown out all the other noise.