Top Ten Reasons Why Being an Older Mom is Amazing!

I've recently become Facebook friends with a bunch of ladies in a closed group called Older Moms of Young Children. It has been nice connecting with moms who can relate. I celebrate even more being a mom who had her first child at 42 years young. While Mike and I would gladly have a houseful of children, it's simply not meant to be and we are blessed with only one. So with that, here's my top ten reasons why it's awesome being an older mom! 1. I don't sweat the small stuff, particularly with food and mealtimes. I don't care what he eats, just that he eats. Yep, he can have whatever he wants for breakfast. who cares? 2. I love dirt. We do not use antibiotic soaps and we do not own antibacterial hand gels. Dirt is good. My kid's never been on any antibiotics in his nearly 5 years of life--he's a pretty healthy kid for having dirty hands. 3. Judge me--I don't care. I get plenty of judging... 4. I can celebrate. His birthday, Christmas, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, other holidays. I waited a long time for this guy, and intend to have some fun. But if he doesn't care, neither do it. He doesn't like candy, so he doesn't care about Halloween. Neither do I. (and I'm very happy he doesn't like candy!) 5. I appreciate. I cannot describe how grateful I am for him. Simply beyond words. 6. I will defend and protect until my last breath. No question--I will be that ridiculous parent who will do something about an injustice, a bully, a bad teacher, and--God Forbid--anyone who decides to hurt my child. And I will not care who thinks what, and I'm sure I can convince any jury.... 7. I can spoil! And I will! And I do.... 8. I have traveled, partied, experienced life; now I can settle down and put my child first. I don't need to drink to get drunk, I don't need to go out on the town, I don't need to hang with my friends, I don't need vacations alone (or with the girls or with my hubby). My son is number 1--and I will sacrifice what I need to make him stay number 1. And it's not a sacrifice, because I'm not giving anything up. 9. I have a career. I don't need to figure out how to get my degree because I have a couple, I don't need to figure out how to get that next promotion, or even a job. And I can do all of this on my own. I love my husband, but I don't need his income to make ends meet. 10. I can afford it. The best schooling. Quality shoes, nice clothes, and the latest trends. One can argue the material things, but I can help him fit in and give the other kids one less reason to pick on him by ensuring he looks nice and "trendy".

Mother's Day

Maybe I'm too realistic, but Mother's Day is just another day. It's another day that I hear "Mom" or "Mommy" about 500 times a day. "Mom, wipe my butt" or "Mom, give me juice". I don't get to rest. No one brings me flowers, or breakfast in bed. No one makes dinner. I get no gifts to unwrap. and it's perfect. Just like every other day of my life, as I have been blessed with a title that I never thought I'd be blessed with--Mother. That is gift enough. That makes my every single day simply amazing. Today was no different. At Church today, they had two Brothers talking about their mothers--you could feel their deep love and admiration for their moms. One Brother was giving his farewell talk before leaving on his mission; the other was elderly and still got choked up as he described the love he felt for his mother. It was incredibly touching. Just having the title is gift enough. So here's a shout out to Moms--whether working mom or stay-at-home, single, gay, married, shacking up; and no matter how the title was earned, what crazy journey the woman endured to get there. Moms are selfless, exhausted, hard-working, amazing people.

the Inhumanity of it all

I'm in the midst of an experience I've never had before--being present while a person is at the end of his life, having lost a battle with cancer. That person is my Dad. He entered hospice 4 days ago. Today's question that I can't get out of my head is "why?" Why do we feel as if it's humane to help our pets over the Rainbow Bridge when they are terminal but we compel our humans to suffer through the process of dying? My heart is broken. Every time I look at the shell of a man that, only 6 months before, was a strong guy who knew everything and who could do anything. Today I fed him. And helped him drink water from a straw. He is helpless and crazy with pain and pain medication. He said his ABC's to me. Why is all of this ok? How can I not be very angry right now? Yesterday I typed up my Dad's obituary. WTF... So to battle with this incredible anger that I can't seem to quell today, I instead will take a little time to celebrate the man that is my Father--here, on my little blog. As a child, I thought he knew everything; heck, as an adult I was still thinking he knew everything. He knew a ton about so many things and he was my go-to guy for all of it. RVs, electricity, travel, cars, you name it. He had an incredible story as a kid growing up in the mid-west in the 40's-50's. He was the one that prompted me to learn more about the Monroe family. Because of him I have been successful in tracing the entire Monroe family tree. And in that research, I found his brothers--long lost for over 50 years. How awesome is that! My Dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye, but I'm convinced it wasn't in his heart, it was a bunch of other circumstances that stood in the way of me always being Daddy's girl. What I am thrilled about is that, as an adult, I had an opportunity to settle into a decent relationship with him. I can thank him for so many things but I do attribute my fierce independence and ability to survive and never give up, to him. I believe it was our shared past that led me to be such a survivor. It was my shear stubbornness, surely a Monroe trait, that made me prove the world wrong--time and again. "You'll never make it through basic training", "You'll never graduate from College", "You'll never make much of yourself". hell yes, I most certainly will. Thank you Dad. I'm sad for my son. I lost my Grandpa when I was 4 years old. Quinn will lose his Grandpa at 4 years old. Quinn is at such a disadvantage with little extended family involvement in his life that he's losing a critical piece of his little family pie. That makes my heart hurt. As I sit in his house, the house that he shared with his wife who has been the most incredible person in his life, I am heartbroken. But I can't begin to imagine how she feels, losing her soul mate. I can't imagine what goes through his mind as he is dying. Tonight I fight anger. I hope tomorrow I move past it.

Highly Sensitive Soul

Quinn has always amazed me. Of course I'm overwhelmed with the miracle we've been given. Naturally I'm absolutely smitten with my child. But there's more. I enjoy watching him grow--watching the complex science behind the act of learning. From his first days, learning to suckle, then learning how to grasp, coo, crawl, walk. All those milestones that children move through. It was clear that he was a perfectionist, even as a baby. When he hit a milestone, he hit it with absolute perfection. When he crawled--he just crawled. When he walked, he just walked. In his mind, he practiced it a hundred times. When he acted out the maneuver, it was if he had been doing it for a long time. He went from flat on the floor to crawling everywhere in minutes. His first step was steps, and he never turned back. I was a bit sad to see that perfectionaism--what a curse it could be. And seeing his personality emerge was amazing. As a baby, he showed empathy very young. Watching his crazy cool sense of humor emerge. Seeing that light bulb come on upon the discovery that his actions can make others smile and laugh. Watching his groove come through. The kid's got rhythm. He can feel the music in his soul. It's simply amazing watching all of this emerge over the past 4 1/2 years. I've been troubled by his responses to loud noise, to startles, to his slow adaption to new things. I worried about his verbal skills. I worried about autism. I'm sure all parents do this. I know the odds are against us to have an absolutely healthy child. We are older parents. I read about it. I am a researcher. I love to read about things. I love to find the reason behind things. I happened upon a concept, a label, called Highly Sensitive Children. It's not a condition, nor a disorder. It's simply a personality. One that requires special handling. One that requires people in the child's life to be dedicated to that child's needs. From what I've read 15-20% of children are considered HSC. There's a list of traits. Quinn pegs many of the traits. He hates loud noises, crowds, chaos, startles. He must have his shoes on very tight, and his watch. His clothes, particularly his shirts, must fit perfectly. He notices every little change. I move an item on the shelf--he notices. A dog farts across the room, Quinn smells it. He has to smell me to center himself. I know this sounds weird, but he's done it for as long as I can remember. He must have my hair in his hands when we are sitting together. He is very keen to sense how people respond to him. He is incredibly empathetic with his friends. He calculates the risk associated with every move. When his feelings are hurt, they are really hurt. The pain is very real to him. He is shy. He is particular with tastes. Unfortunately, I've created a child whose palette prefers real food rather than processed food. He dislikes candy. Some would call him picky, difficult to please, wimpy, a cry baby. Some don't have a lot of patience for him. I see all of this as an incredible gift. He is incredibly creative, and imaginative. He's emotional and feels the emotions around him. I've never had to child proof a thing. He's had the aversion to danger forever. He'll never be that kid who jumps off a cliff because his friends are. His sense of danger will force him to turn away. When I was pregnant with Quinn, I imagined a little boy on the ice, playing hockey at the age of 3. Quinn will never play hockey. He'll probably never play soccer. He will change the world though-even if it his little world. He will make a significant impact to all that take the time to get to know him. He is a pretty cool little guy. I am dedicated to ensuring he always has the best, while nurturing the unique soul that he is. I will go to the end of the earth, and sacrifice much, to ensure he is able to be the soul he was intended to be. That's my job and my life's priority. I'm so thankful to have that as my job.

Love....

I love mornings. I don't like those initial moments when I have to get out of bed, but once I'm up I love the quiet pre-dawn moments in my day. I love sunrises too. It reflects great promise for the day. I love the smell of dog feet. And the sound of dog feet on the floor. I love good coffee. It's worth pressing every day--no question. I love preparing a good meal, and love people eating it--and showing a little appreciation for it. I love the outdoors. I love waking up in a tent, and fishing at sunrise and sunset, and anytime through the day really. I love walking through the woods, exploring under rocks, in trees, in logs. I love Eastern US woods. Mountain woods are not so exciting. But I do love the mountains. I love being an advocate for things I hold special--children, animals, human rights, equality. I love feeling passionate about these things. I love not caring what other people think about how I'm passionate about these things. I love reveille and retreat. I love serving my country. I love my country. I love military ceremony--respect for the colors, the songs, the sharpness of everything. I love my memories; even if they are unpleasant, they are mine. The good ones make me happy, the bad ones remind me of how I've become the woman I am today. I love me. I love who I am, the journey I have made, how I look, how I think. I'm not perfect and likely won't turn any heads as I walk by--but I don't care. I love fast cars. I love driving to work in the pre-dawn morning because I can really let my turbo work. I love the thrill. I love doing things "just because". I'll try anything once, if given the opportunity. I love knowing my way around a tool box. I've built a 6 foot fence, installed a sprinkler system, made all sorts of home repairs. I love the feeling of independence. I wish I knew my way around cars like I do tools of the home repair trade. I love organization and being organized. My world is right when things are in their place and my environment is clean. I've struggled as a married woman with letting this go. I haven't succeeded yet. I love my kid. I've done a lot of cool things in my 46 years. Nothing has been cooler than becoming a mom. I'm "that" person who is over-the-moon-goo-goo for her kid. And I don't apologize for it. For some, getting the mom title is easy. It wasn't for me. I love being a mom. I love being around other good moms. I don't love being around mediocre moms. It makes me too sad. Fortunately I know only a few mediocre moms. I love getting the point in an exercise routine that you feel the high. I don't get to this much since I barely have time to sleep right now. I love a good book. It's been a long time, but I'll get back to a good book. I love my husband. He is my baby's daddy and is a fantastic father. No matter how I behave, he still loves me unconditionally. He is a good man. I love a lot of things in this world; I take none of it for granted.

There Goes 2013, Here Comes 2014

So here we are, New Year's Eve Day. The year has passed, another is on the horizon. As I reflect on the year, I think about how fast it went by! That's how time is, I suppose. The key is to not let it pass without living it. We've had a busy 2013. We did some camping, but not in any new places. I hope 2014 brings us more adventure--and by golly it's going to happen! Quinn fished for "real" (no hook) this year, and seemed to enjoy it. He is such a great adventurer. This year was the first year that Quinn hiked and I wasn't freaking out about his safety. Now, I want him to scratch a knee. It's time. Speaking of The Adorable One--he had his world rocked this year by starting preschool. He left the Child Development Center (CDC)for a real school. He hated the first couple of weeks, then realized that it wasn't chaos like the CDC had become, that he was important and teachers did care about him. He quickly decided he loved it. And I love that we got into our school of choice--I'm grateful that I have choices in the school my son goes to, and I'm super grateful that Jefferson County Schools have Charter Schools that are fantastic alternatives to the traditional school setting. I have admired the Waldorf and Montessori methods for more than 20 years--ever since college. I always said my kid is going to take advantage of a non-traditional school. And we are. Yes, I'm one of those crazy ridiculous parents (at least some people think so--and frankly I don't care) that want absolutely the very best for my kid and question everything. I will go out of my way and be nearly radical with my child's upbringing. Because I can. He's my kid. I have the means and methods to do so. Sorry for that tangent.... Anywho, 2013... I lost 25 pounds in 2013! That's pretty awesome. I will do another 25 in 2014. I like to take things slow. I like good food--a lot. It shows. :( But I do love myself just how I am and just want more clothing choices really. We decided to invest in the house even more than previous years and finally took the plunge and got windows for the whole house. We had a significant decision to make--sell the house, or keep it. We decided to keep it but could not stomach another year in a drafty house. So the decision was easy. We got windows, a garage door, and a new storm door and now we are warm!!! I can't wait to sell the house now...in a couple of years. We added a third to our Henry Pack this year. Bogart came to us in September and that little guy of only 18 months of age must have had a rough life before he was picked up as a stray. He was so skinny and sat for so long in the shelter. We had looked for a third for months and met many over that time, visiting a few different shelters in search of the one for us. Bogart, then Jimmy, entered the room and immediately, we knew we had to take him home. That's how love is--you know it when you feel it. And we were in love with this little guy. And, as we turn over the year, he has gained a pound or two and has blossomed. He is now "the Little-ist of the Littles" and I am absolutely smitten. I love how he runs and hides when it comes time to walk every evening. Yep, the little guy doesn't care to strut his stuff at night in the cold. I look forward to his continuing to grow and lose all of his fears that he must have had good reason to develop. Our other pack members, Duey and Abby, are doing ok! Duey is a little devil and poor Abby has been fighting a disease all year--Immune Mediated Polyarthritic Disease. She is on a host of drugs and cannot walk more than 10 minutes at a time, and not every day. So my girl who would walk miles with me is sadly sidelined--for likely the rest of her life. She taking it all in stride and her new sport is to see how much food she can steal in the house every day. She's doing very well in her new endeavors. Lexie the cat just shakes her head at all this dog stuff. In her life, she has trained 7 dogs. She's a trooper. We got bad news with Dad's diagnosis of renal cancer this year. And that news just kept getting worse and worse. As we close out 2013, all I have left is hope. And tears. And hope. Over the year we have been blessed--blessed with new friends, old friendships rekindled, current friendships nurtured. We have an amazing group of Quinn followers and are so grateful for all the fantastic caregivers who are committed to kids every day. Many of them continue to be in Quinn's life, if only just virtually. We have been likewise blessed with family--family get togethers that have brought us together after only a year apart and others more than 20 years apart. I am looking forward to 2014 for so many reasons! Hope is in my pocket every single day. And gratitude in the other. I never leave home with neither. But there's also new opportunities at work, a summer full of new adventures for Quinn's first summer break from school, a year with camping fun, a year with family and friends. Bring on the New Year!

Cancer

Cancer. What a crappy word. I'm a realist. I know cancer happens. I know cancer sucks. I know a lot of people aflicted with the big C. I know a lot of people who have survived cancer. I am in awe of all of them. It's like a battle--a true battle. They are battle worn, they have the scars--both physically and emotionally--to prove it. There's skin cancer, and breast cancer. I've had both in my family. Both seemed so easy to fix--so curable. A little of this, a lot of that and BOOM--all better. But now it's all different. Now it gets real. My Dad, MY DAD, has renal cancer--stage 4. Yes, it's serious. There's an 8% chance of a five-year survival. My dad has survived so much. He's an amazing guy really--crazy weird upbringing with a fair amount of struggle, military service, a career telephone company guy. He had to eat 10 pounds of bananas just to get accepted into basic training! We've struggled in my 46 years. I remember a Dad as I was growing up that was irritable, impatient, and generally annoyed by me. That's how I felt anyway. They divorced when I was 12--he began a new life and my life got extra shitty. Or maybe that's when my awareness of my lot got the best of me. Who knows. My teen years absolutely sucked. My Dad had a new family, my life was a mess of broken-heartedness, rage, craziness. And I'm not talking just about me. My Dad and I didn't have much of a relationship. A lot of shit happened that really sucks. Finally I escaped to college. Life was still tough, but damn it--I'm going to survive and change my family tree. I joined the military. I'm still sad that no one from my family came to my basic training graduation. It's one of those significant events in your life that no one cares about. It's like a tree falling in the forest when no one's around. I graduated college. My Dad and others came to my graduation party. My Mom and Dad were in the same house for the first time in years--and it wasn't pretty. It was ridiculous. Divorce sucks for the kids, by the way. It tears relationships apart. I could have been Daddy's girl. I may have been, but I don't know it. I married. I remember at my first wedding, dancing with my Dad--he cried and I cried. I knew then that he did love me--and loved me with his entire being. Then I moved to Germany. I didn't have really strong ties to Dad (or anyone else at this point... I was outta here). I moved back. I divorced. My Dad and I started rekindling a relationship--one that continues to build still today. On a work-related trip to Arizona, I met my Dad there, who was also working in Arizona. We drank together. We turned a corner in our adult daughter-Dad relationship that day. He came for visits to my home in Maryland. He traveled far to see me. He and my step-mom came to help me when I had surgery. I had a hard time accepting help, but it was nice for someone to go outta their way to actually do so. We traveled together to see his Mom, my Grandma, in Missouri. I moved to Colorado. He traveled to support another surgery. He was there for my second wedding--traveling far again to support a significant moment in my life. He was my Dad--he is my Dad. My maturity now tells me that perhaps he was always there, but there were lots of factors that got in the way of forging a healthy Father-Daughter relationship with my Dad. I took him for granted; he took me for granted. Here's where it gets real folks. My Dad is fighting the fight of his LIFE. It's breaking my heart, seeing him do this. It's not the physical pain and discomfort--there's lots to do about that. It's the emotional grief, it's the realization that he knows he's sick. And really sick. He has an amazing woman at his side--she's been there for over three decades. She is strong. She is amazing. He is very lucky. Listen, I know no one leaves this life alive. I get that. But I didn't expect this guy, who just this summer was camping and moving non-stop, to barely move from one point to another in his home without support. I need a miracle here--I need more time with this guy.