The Start of A Good Thing

Here it is. My first post. I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while now, partially because my son, Matthew, comes up with such good material (which I always seem to share anyway), and partly because I thought it might serve as great therapy for me, a mom who has all her eggs—literally—in one sweet, big-green-eyed, cooky, blessed little basket.

One and done. I never thought that would be me. When I was younger, I pictured myself with at least three little nuggets running around my feet. Happily, of course. They were well-behaved, developmentally right-on-target, spick-and-span clean, and ate every healthy thing I put before them. Life, however, had another storyline in place. Pregnancy didn’t come easy. When my husband and I found out after six years of trying that “the test” was positive, we were thrilled. Over-the-moon, really. When we discovered that it was with twins, life took on a whole new dimension. We named the girls as soon as we felt them kick—Madelaine Rose and Charlotte Evelyn—and we fell in love. Sadly, Maddie and Charlie couldn’t hold out for an entire nine months, and were born on March 23, 2004—four months too soon. They did not survive. I won’t go into how devastating a blow that was on so many levels.

Matthew came into my life a little more than two years later, and is both my joy and the cause of every grey hair making its way toward the surface. He is the answer to a prayer. He is a funny, smart, crazy handful, and I adore him. In my heart, he’s one of three, but to the world, he’s my one and only. Whether I’m at the playground, the library, the supermarket (it doesn’t matter), if someone catches wind of a Matt comment, if they’re privy to one of his long-winded-yet-charming anecdotes, or they’re just making conversation, the question always comes up: “Any other children?” I’m starting this blog because of the conflicted feeling that arises every time I’m forced to answer that question. It’s not all I’m going to talk about, of course. Motherhood is so multi-faceted, it can't be reduced to the ONE core thing that drives you mad. But I thought, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a place to air all this out without the cost of psychotherapy?” Wouldn't it be nice for all moms to have "that place"?

So now you know how it all begins. I’m hoping “That’s My Boy” will grow into a community of moms who are sometimes starry-eyed over their offspring and sometimes want to pull their hair out at the end of a trying day, or gals who like funny kid stories, or women who have—whether by choice or by fate—come to realize that the little tyke now in their midst IS their one-and-only, and not feel like they have to apologize for that. Basically I want you all to join me on this crazy, heart-wrenching, wonderful ride called mommy-hood through my stories, my thoughts, and my musings on Matt. Yup. That’s my boy.