In German it would be called ‘Ehebruch’

JFK was famous for it.

Prince Charles was never shy about it.

The Bridges of Madison County almost made you okay with it.

Angelina Jolie, always vocal about how she’d never engage in it due to the hurt it caused her mother, is in the new right now declaring it’s bologna.

John Edwards denied and then accepted a child from it. American Beauty made it seem common. Fatal Attraction made it scary, yet sexy. And, First Knight made it almost romantic. I’ve seen it happen with friends. I’ve seen it happen in my own extended family.

I’m talking about adultery.

This book, though categorized as a fictional account of the deep affair between the fashionista and the musician, is just another story of adultery to add to the list. What bothers me about the whole thing is that I’m not bothered.

I’m not bothered by adultery. I’m not shocked. I’m not appalled. It’s one of those things that exists, that just is.

And, I’m bothered by the fact that I’m not bothered.

I almost feel like I’ve been so conditioned by movies and books and watching those around me that it just seems inevitable. People cheat. People cheat every single day. Marriages, as much as I wish they were, are not always roses and sunshine. When something like an affair happens I feel like I should be shocked, dismayed. But usually the news is followed by a shrug of the shoulders. Meh. It happens.

I’ve always been a romantic. I’ve always enjoyed a good love story. I’ve never hidden the fact that I much prefer a happy ending to life and all its episodes. I never thought that as a romantic I’d so casually dismiss the fact that affairs exist and happen to even the most unlikely of people.

Perhaps my lack of surprise at the sheer amount of adultery that exists in the world happened just about the time I realized that remembering to turn the fan on while you take a crap is truly a romantic gesture when you’re married.

I’m just saying.


This post was written as part of the Silicon Valley Moms Blog January Book Club featuring Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh. I received a complimentary copy of the book as part of the SVM book club.


growing

This morning I was in the bathroom helping my five year old fix her hair for school. She was standing on a stool in front of the sink and asked if I would pull her hair up to keep in out of her face. I grabbed a purple rubber band from the drawer and started to pull up her hair when I noticed something.

She was tall.

She was so tall that standing on the stool was no longer required for her to reach the sink or for me to fix her hair. She had grown. Overnight it seems, but she had grown. She doesn’t need the stool to help her reach her toothbrush or hang up her towel after a bath. She doesn’t need my help to wash her hair or get dressed in her clothes. She’s growing.

They’re all growing.

The monitor next to my bed is really unnecessary these days. The baby, who’s teetering dangerously close to two, doesn’t require constant nighttime supervision. The monitor that lasted five years and 3 babies needs to be put away. It may be what I used to listen to their soft breathing when they were so small and helpless, but now they just come wake me up when they need something.

If they need something.

They use the bathroom, get water, find their lost stuffed animals, and adjust their night lights all on their own. The baby plays quietly and waits patiently in her crib until someone comes to fetch her. No tears, no fussing. They’re growing up.

The crib is becoming obsolete. In a few short weeks the crib will be transformed into a ‘big girl’ bed. While all three of my babies slept their first years in that crib, it won’t make another appearance until I’m welcoming my grandchildren – many years from now.

I’m watching my children grow. I’m seeing the baby phase move quickly into the distance and I’m watching trips to friends houses emerge. I’m watching them become readers and thinkers and imaginary unicorn catchers. I’m watching them explore and discover.

And, I’m watching because the worlds I hear most are ‘No, Mama. I can do it myself!’

Anyone know how to slow this down?

*originally written for Deep South Moms

Where would I be?

Check out my new post on Deep South Moms: Where would I be?

a tall glass of southern sass

I was recently given the opportunity to begin blogging over at Deep South Moms. I am very excited about the opportunity! This network is full of smart women that are helping to form a strong virtual community for mothers all over the country. I will still be blogging here daily. But, I’m uber-happy to be spreading the ‘mamaneena love’ over there as well!

I must give tons of thanks to Caitlin at A Hen and Two Chicks for passing along the opportunity. She gave me the name of who to contact and told me they were looking for bloggers in the first place. What a kind lady! She also has a pretty snazzy blog that often makes me want to abandon all my responsibilities and move in with her family and be raised taking full advantage of urban living. Thanks, Caitlin!

In a totally unrelated note:
My son is obsessed with Scooby Doo and Batman right now. I found a DVD called ‘Scooby Doo Meets Batman’ for $5.00! I didn’t know such a wondrous creation existed. When I saw it on the self it was as if the Heavens opened and the angels sang out! Well, not really. But, it was pretty exciting.

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