Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?

She was a teenage mother.

Her fiancé was not the baby’s daddy.

Did you call your best friend to spread the gossip?

Did you two laugh at the fact that her life read like an episode of Jerry Springer?

Did you call her “trashy” or “trampy”?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?


She was poor.

She didn’t even have the basics for her baby.

Did you look down on her?

Did you think her poverty was probably somehow her fault?

Did a tiny piece of you judge her for not being prepared for the child she chose to bring into this world?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her… just a little?


She was an illegal immigrant.

She had no business being in this country.

She fled to protect her child, to give him a better life.

She didn’t speak the language.

Did you tell her to go back to where she came from?

Did you assume that because she didn’t speak your language, she was less intelligent than you?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?


She had visions.

She saw things.

Did you call her crazy?

Did you roll your eyes at her behind her back?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?


She was homeless.

She wandered the streets before giving birth.

Did you open your home?

Did you comfort her as she begged for the smallest act of kindness – a place to lay her child?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?


She was raising an odd child.

He just didn’t act like the other kids.

Did you tell your kids to stay away from him?

Did you say they were busy and couldn’t come out to play?

Did you listen to her as she struggled with how to raise such an unusual soul?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?


Her son had run-ins with the law.

Did you think it was probably somehow her fault?

Did you think your kids were bettered behaved than him?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?


She held her baby in her arms.

He was dead.

He was a rebel.

He got into trouble with the wrong people.

It came back to him…and her.

Did you avert your eyes?

Did avoid sitting with her to spare yourself the uncomfortable silence?

Did you stay away from her so as not to bear even the tiniest burden of her overwhelming grief?

Be honest, did you think you were better than her…just a little?


She was Mary, the Mother of God.








Be careful what you say to the universe…and who reads your blog

Life lesson: be careful what you say or post in cyberspace – the universe is listening.

I mopped my floors on Thursday.

C pooped on the kitchen floor today.

I swear, she reads my blog.

I only have three followers. Who knew my two year old was one of them?

Just thought you’d enjoy that giggle! My husband was on kid duty at the time. He did not giggle!)

**if you’re confused by this, you missed my previous post – which means only two people read it , my daughter and my mom!

To my Dear, Sweet Friends

Two and half months ago I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. He has added more love to our family than I ever could imagine. He is truly one of my life’s greatest blessings.

With that being said, the last two and half months have been some of the most wonderful, joyous, emotional, and stressful of my adult life. I’d like to take a few minutes and thank my wonderful friends that have seen me through and are still holding me up as I stumble along as a mommy of two. This one’s for you, girls!

Dear Sweet Friends,

Thank you.

Thank you for telling me that you don’t LOVE being pregnant. Sure, there are miraculous moments that take your breath away and bring you to tears, but there is certainly nothing miraculous about praying to the porcelain God as your eighteen month old applauds (yep, she sure did!), wiping your mouth off, brushing your teeth and heading out the door for another wonderful day of looking like you’ve had too many beers and nachos lately. I love those women who literally glow through pregnancy and cherish every moment, but I really love you for saying that it just kind of sucks most of the time.

Thank you for admitting that your kids eat total crap some days. Some people brag about their gourmet dinners and even take pictures of them. Not you, you admit that your kids eat chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and peanut butter sandwiches most days. No award winning blog for you, but you’re a damn good mom nonetheless, and to be honest – I’m so tired that chicken nuggets and peanut butter sound mighty fine to me! We’ll stop by at 5:30 for dinner 🙂

Thank you for telling me about your full-blown, all-out fight with your four year old. You called crying and we ended up laughing our guts out. You’ve gotta love when a thirty-three year old woman with a Master’s degree is brought to her knees by verbal attacks of a preschooler. You are awesome, and I love you for it!

Thank you for hating the Christmas elf crap. I’m rather ambivalent about him, but your total disgust with such an innocent tradition totally made me laugh and reminded me that I don’t have to buy into everything that the supermoms are posting in cyberspace. By the way, I bet their kids each chicken nuggets and peanut butter too!

Thank you for telling me that you “only bathe the kids occasionally, especially during winter.” I love that about you. Personal hygiene has seasonal requirements at your house. You are fantastic!

Thank you for admitting that your yoga pants are your dress pants because the rest of your pants just don’t fit and are dry-clean only. We match! Caroline recently called me out for “wearing pajamas” in public. “No darling, these are yoga pants. They’re totally different than pajamas.”….wait, maybe they’re not….crap!

Thank you for telling me that you don’t run for health, enjoyment, or athleticism, but merely to be far, far away from it all for a while. I get it. I SO get it.

Thanks for saying that your kids totally suck at church. Who are those children that sit quietly in their parents laps? Last week, she had no less than three time outs and the baby screamed 90% of the time. The only reason we haven’t been asked to leave is because, well, it’s church and they just aren’t allowed to kick us out. Jesus said so. I think it’s in Matthew somewhere….”Let the children come to me… and wail and scream and run from their parents and throw themselves on the ground in front of the altar in a God Almighty meltdown.” (That may be my own interpretation. I’m Catholic. We don’t memorize verses like we should.)

Thank you for admitting that your kid pooped on the kitchen floor and you totally lost your cool. I cannot imagine, and I won’t even to try to. I’m sure it will be a reality in our house one day very soon (I think she’s just waiting for me to mop the floors). You are always so calm and good with her. Thank you for being honest that you lose it sometimes too.

Thank you for telling me you’ve fought with your husband and said things you didn’t really mean. You guys look so happy and perfect. I needed to know it’s normal.

Thank you for saying that you’ve cried in the shower

and the car

and in front of your kids

in unison with your two-year old during a meltdown

and at the grocery

and in front of strangers.

Me too, sister. Me too!

Thank you for saying that you believe in me, that I can do this, and that I’m doing a good job. Something in the sincerity of your voice made me almost believe you. Thank you for walking this journey with me. It’s crazy, and stressful, and so very hard. It’s wonderful, and beautiful, and so very fleeting. Thank you for being honest with me. Thank you for loving me and trusting me enough to show me your weaknesses and your downfalls. I think you are such amazing mothers.Thank you for showing me that “wonderful mother” and “perfect mother” aren’t the same thing. Thanks for holding me up.