I can say with 99.9% certainty that I am done having babies, or I guess I should say baby. As in, we have one and now we’re done. This little family of three feels just right to me.

Oh, the horror! Say it isn’t so!

Was it a rough pregnancy? Did something happen during labor? Did you guys have a hard time getting pregnant the first time? Oh, was she a difficult, colicky baby?  Is it because she’s in the terrible twos right now? These are just a few of the (somewhat annoying) questions I often have to field. Not that I mind when they come from people I’m close to, but more often they seem to come unsolicited from strangers. I even got the “it’s time to start working on the next one” comment from the freakin’ pest control guy today! Really? What the hell does it matter to him how many times my husband and I choose to reproduce?!?! Just spray for bugs and move on, please! Who’s the real pest here? Ugh.

Not that I truly feel any obligation to answer those who ask, but no, I had a very easy pregnancy (even if I wasn’t one of those women who feel their most beautiful with a bun in the oven – can you hear the click-clack of my eyes rolling around right now?); delivery was by no means easy but it wasn’t traumatic, either; our daughter has been nothing short of a dream baby and a wonderful toddler; and, no, there were no problems getting out of the starting gate… just to clear the air there.

Then there’s the “well-meaning” mom of eight I ran into at the park the other day, trying to convince a woman she literally just met that having an only child is somehow mean and selfish. Do you think I haven’t considered the argument that my husband and I will someday be gone and then my daughter will have no one? Weak. Is that even a legitimate reason to bring another person into this world – so my daughter can have a playmate and someone to watch mom and dad grow old with? Does having siblings somehow ensure that you’ll never have a lonely moment ever in your life?

Here’s how I see it:

My plan is to help this little child learn good social skills and grow up to be a kind, caring and intelligent adult. I hope this translates into many fulfilling relationships. She’ll have best friends that will feel like sisters or brothers to her. She has cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. It’s not like she’s being raised in complete solitude just because she’s an only child. And someday (hopefully a day that won’t come too quickly), she’ll find a life partner and likely have a family of her own, the size of which will be their choosing. Isn’t that who will be there for her when we no longer are?

Will she look back and wish she had a brother or sister in her life, someone to complain about mom and dad with, someone to have her back no matter what? Possibly. But will she know that she was loved and appreciated just as much as any other kid? Most definitely.

Sometimes I start to feel like there may be something wrong with me because so few people seem to share my feelings on having just one kid. There are many reasons for my husband and I coming to the conclusion that we’re good on the kid front but the important thing is that we agree on it. We’re very happy with the status quo. I love being a mom more than anything and I’ve enjoyed every phase of the journey so far, but I never get that pang when I see a baby that I want to do it again.

I know I left the door open a sliver with my 99.9% assuredness of being done so I’ll never say never. But, for now, life is perfect just the way it is. Anyone else out there happy to be a mom of one? Do you get people trying to convince you all the time that you HAVE to have more?

When you walk down the aisle and pledge yourself to the love of your life, your dating days are supposed to be over, right? Phew. I was never a fan of the awkwardness of it all. Pining for the call from someone you’re interested in or dodging the calls from someone you’re not. Rules about how long to wait before calling; who calls next; emotional rollercoasters. Bleh.

I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that BS anymore! Oh wait. I’m a mom now! I left my job (a.k.a. my substitute for a social life) and decided to work from home. Well, it’s getting a little lonely over here in my WAHM bubble. Sooo, I’m now “dating” again – only this time it’s moms and kids I’m courting… and who knew that was going to suck even more than dating?!

And seriously, seeking out good mom friends is no easy task.  Not only do you have to like each other and want to hang out, but your kids have to be at least relatively close to the same age or playdates just don’t work well. It also helps if you have similar parenting styles, groundrules and values; AND you really need to find gals that live near you in order to be able to get together regularly.  That’s a tiny laundry list of prerequisites, no? How hard could it be? Ha!

I live in what I always thought was a very family-friendly place so why is it so hard to find friends around here? Some days when I drag my kid to the park, I have to admit, I do it because I’m secretly hoping my new BFF just might be there looking for me, too. More often than not, when I do see other moms, they’re already surrounded by friends and don’t appear to have room for one more. Even though we have nice conversation, I start to get the “she’s just not that into you” feeling (maybe my desperation is showing?).  Or, sometimes I just don’t feel it for them. Either way, woe is me.

Yes, I have my best girlfriends that go back to way before we all had offspring and I love them dearly. But I am locationally challenged in respect to hanging out with them (Arizona to Maine doesn’t exactly allow for getting together very often). Even my buds that technically live in the same metro area as me are clear on the other side of the Valley; therefore, get-togethers require major planning and one or both of us racking up major miles and time to make it happen.

What I’m dying for is a friend – or two but I should refrain from getting greedy – that is right around the corner. Someone I can go for impromptu walks with or just have a quick coffee while our kiddos frolic. Is that too much to ask?

But then it happened. I met someone at the park a few weeks ago.  A wonderful mom who I could instantly relate to – and she had a daughter only a couple of months older than mine! Kismet! We chatted for a bit while our kids played together like the little cherubs that they are (okay, so they just looked at each other and went about their own business in that typical toddler way but I can visualize them playing together angelically, anyway).

I actually worked up the cajones to awkwardly ask for her number then walked home with that giddy, optimistic “I hope she calls me” excitement.  How lame am I, huh?  We had a couple of fun get togethers but the last few times we’ve tried to plan something, one or the other of us has managed to hit a roadblock and the playdate is off. Argh! We’re shooting for another attempt later this week but after a while so much planning and canceling gets weird. Friendships take work to cultivate, I know. I just wish it wasn’t quite SO hard to get there.

What else can I do to make new mommy friends? Do you rely on the people you knew before kids or have you forged solid relationships with new friends? How did you meet them?

They are a life saver!  My kiddo loves, loves, loves them and, I have to say, they’re pretty great to me, too. It’s just nice, soft classical music set to beautiful animation… no annoying characters squealing or screeching. Check out how captivated she is (and I am able to get few dishes done or answer an email or two, woo hoo!):

Not that I’m saying you should be plopping your kid in front of the TV for hours at a time but, hey, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do, right?

My beautiful, happy-go-lucky little girl is definitely in the “let’s test the boundaries” phase already. Her newest thing is hitting. Sitting here in my rational mind, I know that, to a 15-month-old, hitting is not a hateful or deviant act. But when I’m running on fumes and my nerves are frayed, it hurts to be hit, both physically and emotionally… and after about the 25^th “no hitting” plea from me being met with a giggle, I lost my cool. I yelled at my baby in a way I never I could. Not my proudest parenting moment.

Fortunately or unfortunately, my husband was home to witness it. Fortunate because he was able to take over and let me go cool off; unfortunate because now not only do I know I’m an unfit mom, but he does, too. Ok, so maybe unfit is taking it a bit too far, but I certainly felt that way for a few hours after the incident.

It doesn’t really take a genius to deduce that all I really needed was a little break (I just have to get it through my thick head that there’s absolutely no shame in that). So, the next day, my wonderful and sympathetic husband carted the little one over to Nana’s so mommy could have a few hours to herself – three solid hours to do anything I want, in fact. Bliss. What would you do with a few hours of “you time”?

Me? I cleaned out my closet!

It was so incredibly cathartic. Before becoming a mom, I was a total fashion victim. I had a passion for clothes. My closet was stuffed to the gills with cute and trendy duds… only problem being that they no longer fit right and were definitely NOT flattering. The comfortable go-to pieces I wear on a daily basis had no place to live so they were all in hap-hazard piles on the floor. Getting dressed in the morning (okay, afternoon) was becoming a complete stress-inducing nightmare. And so it was that I decided that my precious alone time was going to be very well spent in the closet.

It wasn’t easy at first to admit that I’m really not going to wear those cute little minis or sky-high heels again.  I had to suck it up and accept that even if I do ever lose those last few pounds, I am still not going to look good in a skin-tight glittery tube top and low-slung jeans.  Besides, am I really going to slip into those puppies to chase a toddler around? Yes, I’m sure my neighbors would highly appreciate me channeling my inner Janet Jackson on the playground!  The truth is, those clothes just aren’t me anymore. I’m a mom and now I often dress like one. Oh well. Time to get real.

Yeah, it’s sad to see so many clothes that remind of silly times with my girlfriends, trips to Vegas with my hubby B.C. (that’s Before Chloe, if you’re wondering), or just of who I was before I was “Chloe’s mom” but I’m happy with who I am now and I’m ready to embrace it. Hanging on to all that stuff somehow felt like it was holding me back.

Who knew? Cleaning out the closet: If I had realized that’s all it would take to restore peace and balance in my life, I would have done it long ago!

Oh, and bonus: I’m taking a major haul over to the consignment shop so I can hopefully I can score some dough while I’m at it (and maybe get me some new mom jeans? Ok, let’s not take it too far here)!

In a book that purports to be THE resource for all things pregnancy and childbirth related, where is the chapter that explains that this glorious, life-changing experience will turn you into a pizza-faced, grizzly looking sideshow freak??? Oh sure, I was well-informed about the chances of acquiring unsightly stretch marks, less perky knockers, a slightly looser tummy; I was even somewhat prepared for impending hair loss. I had no misconceptions about bounding out of the hospital bed into my pre-pregnancy jeans. I was reminded repeatedly about the “nine months on, nine months off” rule.

I was not, however, in any way prepared for the day I would be reading Pat the Bunny and my cheerful chirp of the phrase “Judy can feel daddy’s scratchy face” would be met with a tiny  hand tenderly brushing MY cheek. Ok, surely she doesn’t think mommy also has a scratchy face, does she? I can do a pretty good job of convincing myself that no one else is noticing my slow transition into a werewolf – but nothing like the innocence of a child to bring about a swift  reality check! It can’t truly be that bad, can it? Ugh.

I am on constant surveillance for new sprouts. I know exactly where their favorite places to hang out are and I watch them closely. My weapons are always handy and I’m not afraid to use them. I’ve strategically placed tweezers everywhere, including the car – because there’s nothing better than natural sunlight to really bring the bearded lady into focus!  Just when I think I have the situation under control, out of nowhere a giant black sprig emerges in what seems like a split second… and I’m talking about bristles so thick and strong, it can take some serious muscle to uproot them. What the heck? Why?

So not only do we have to spend nine months stretching our body into ridiculousness, only to never again know it as the beautiful thing it once was (which, by the way, was so under-appreciated pre-morph, it’s just shameful)… but facial hair? Really? That’s just plain unfair. Yes, it truly is a miracle and a blessing to create a new life and no, I didn’t expect to come through the process completely unchanged.  But maybe a little heads-up on the fact that I’d soon be grooming my pelt would’ve been nice, you know?

Come on, any other Sasquatch mommies feel like outing themselves? Got some tips for how you keep the beast at bay?

Yesterday, I simultaneously played mommy, housewife, career woman and level-headed, happy woman with all the style and flair of a modern day June Cleaver.  I somehow managed to keep my curious and newly-willful toddler smiling, cheery and clean, do the laundry, unload the dishwasher, land a couple of solid pitches for my clients, prepare dinner and get to bed by midnight (hey, that IS very good)!

And then – now here’s where I’m really going to ruin it, I’m so sure – today I actually got a shower, complete with a visit from the illusive razor, hair dryer and makeup bag, before my child woke up. In fact, I got to send out a few emails, make the bed and put all the dishes from the night before away, too.  I even got to get ready for a meeting with a few minutes to spare and didn’t have to rush out the door the second the nanny (whom I am only graced with two days per week, for the curious) reported for duty. Oh. My. God.

Could it be true? Is 2010 going to be the year I finally get a solid handle on this work-at-home-mommy thing?  Truth be told, everything gets easier with practice. And the beauty of parenting is that, at least in my experience so far (I’m only 15 months in, for what that’s worth), it really does get easier all the time. My daughter is finally at a point where she’s content to play on her own for little spurts of time. She’s getting the hang of feeding herself a good assortment of foods so I don’t have to hover over her every second or physically put each little morsel in her mouth for her. She enjoys coloring and “reading” books to herself on occasion. It’s just enough so I can actually get a little bit of work done even when it is just me and her. And that just feels amazing.

Hey, it may not sound like much of a milestone, but when you’re performing a constant juggling act, any amount of relief is incredibly sweet.  Sure, I still had to stay up well past midnight tonight (clock reads 1:04 a.m. and everyone else in the house is down for the count) but for some reason it feels less harsh when things are actually getting crossed off my to-do list throughout the day… and when I feel confident that more things will be conquered tomorrow.

We shall see anyway…

No, no, no, I was never going to be one of those moms. I was going to get up before the sun, get my morning workout in, shower, put on makeup and look pretty as I glide in my baby’s room with a smile to greet the new day with her. Oh, and yes, I was also going to have a lovely balanced dinner on the table every night, timed perfectly for my adoring husband’s arrival home from a hard day’s work.  Each day was going to be so rewarding and lovely that I’d melt into his arms at night and we’d talk sweet pillow talk… and then, you know, the unmentionable part (come on, my mom might read this blog!).  We’d drift off to sleep blissfully, visions of our plum perfect little family dancing through our heads.

Okay, pick yourself up off the floor now; reattach that ass you just laughed off.

My reality is that look exactly like that mom I swore – SWORE – I would never look like… actually, I think I look worse. I am chronically tired and it shows. My once flat belly has a jiggle that could certainly rival Ol’ Saint Nick. My hair is a frizzy, gray-smattered mess that makes me look dangerously close to a Dr. Seuss character.  I am haggard looking at best. Oh, and I most likely haven’t shaved my legs in well over a week; I may have bad breath and you might just wonder if I misplaced my Secret lately. I am no Martha Stuart/June Cleaver/Carol Brady or whoever the timely reference would be.  I’m certainly not the superwoman I was so certain I would be.

I live my life solely to serve others these days. If I’m not being mommy (which really only means it’s naptime), I’m serving my clients needs. If I’m not doing either of those, I’m doing dishes or laundry or trying to keep a somewhat non-disastrous house. I have not one single second to myself. Not one. Ever. I do everything with a tiny audience of one observing and watching intently. Seriously, everything. I pee, poop, shower, even wax my freakin’ mustache (we’ll save the facial hair talk for another time – because that one could take a while) with her little eyeballs staring at me in amazement.  So consequently, I whittle each of these tasks into speedy, two-minute endeavors that just barely get the job done… that’s if and when I can even fit them in. There’s no dawdling when you’ve got an antsy toddler to entertain.

Perhaps the hardest part about trying to be superwoman 24/7, is that, inevitably, superman, gets pushed farther and farther down the priority list… and if his, ahem, needs aren’t being met, then I’m not really superwoman at all, am I? My days seem to never end because once the little angel is down for the night, it’s time for me to play catch up on the things I inevitably didn’t get to cross of my to-do list for the day. The baby must be taken care of and the client work has to get done. I’m often up well past midnight and I’m so exhausted by the time I hit the sack that I pass out within seconds.

I want to be able to do it all. I really, really do. I’m a chronic people-pleaser and it really sucks when I fail at that. I know I’m a good mom, I think I’m pretty good at my work; but as a wife, perhaps I’m a little subpar (is there a good Tiger joke to put here? Hmmm… nah, that’s already played out).  I worry that this isn’t what he signed up for either… he probably didn’t think life would end up a big cliché any more than I did. Don’t get me wrong, we have a great life but the perfectionist in me thinks it could be more balanced.

Now that I have a little experience under my cape, I know it was naïve to think I could actually be a superhero of any sort… but I just can’t let go of the dream. I still want to be able to do it all. I want the magic superpowers! Anyone know the secret? Anyone?

P.S. Sorry if you came here looking advice… I’ll keep you posted when I get it all figured out (give me about 25 years on that, though)!

Gratitude is something many of us are often lacking when we’re immersed in the daily grind; it’s easy to focus on the things that annoy you (guilty!), or dwell on what may be coming up short in your life (yep, done that, too). But, the truth of the matter is, usually when you sit back and look at things objectively, there is so much for which to be thankful.

So, in honor of Turkey Day and TweetsGiving, my (somewhat incomplete) list of the things in my life for which I am truly, deeply appreciative (apologies in advance for the cliche and predictable nature of this list – I seem to have misplaced my creativity today and put sap in its place!):

• For having the opportunity to be both working and an at-home mom (no matter how much bitching, whining and complaining I may do, I actually love every minute of it and couldn’t possibly do it any other way)
• For my wonderful, amazing, smart, healthy, happy little girl – such a blessing
• For my caring, patient and loving husband – he’s definitely one in a million
• For all of the people who taught me what I needed to know and gave me the confidence to start my own business (I think you all know who you are!)
• For my own mom and dad, who raised me well so I can raise my daughter well (sidenote for my ‘rents: I’m sorry for ages 13 through 16 and thanks for putting up with me!)
• For each and every mistake I’ve made in life – who would we be without all our eff-ups?
• For laughter
• For friends
• For this blog – it’s better than therapy, I swear

This list could go on forever… but I’ll spare you all (for now).

Happy Thanksgiving and please feel free to share your thoughts on the things for which you’re thankful today.  Cheers!

You can try to be superwoman, but truthfully, you just might not be the force you once were when it comes to your career… because sometimes you won’t even get the chance.

For the first time since mounting this huge mommy/working-girl horse I jumped onto, I truly believe I lost an opportunity simply because I am a mom. Not just a mom, but a mom who chose to stay at home with her kid AND work. But you know what, I’m okay with that. There are sacrifices I knew I would have to make when I chose this life.

I have to admit that I don’t freely disclose the fact that I have a small child (or the fact that I work at home) when first introduced to a potential new client – particularly if they’re men. I’m just never sure how it’s going to be received, so until it’s necessary to share, I simply avoid the subject.  Once in a while, a prospect will just flat out ask.  Then, of course, I’m completely honest. Much of the time, I am pleasantly surprised at how supportive and understanding people are; occasionally, they’re even filled with admiration at how I make it work.  Sometimes, though, they think it’s going to mean I can’t possibly do a good job for them.

Hey, if someone is going to have an issue with me having a kid and a life that may at times come before my work, then I’m probably not the best choice for them anyway. There are days when I miss being fully involved in my work and many, many days when I feel like I used to be so much better at my job B.C. (before Chloe); or, I question whether I made the right choice, if this really is the juggling act I signed up for.

But then I take a break from my work and see my baby’s smiling face and feel her little arms wrapped tightly around me and suddenly it’s all worth it… missed opportunities and all.