Mommy Ever After » A Happy Story

A Happy Story (for a Happy Birthday!)

Rebecca Fox Starr — Tue, 20 Jan 2015 01:50:43 +0000

and the fact that things have been heavy (yet hopeful) around these parts,

I decided to go spelunking, way back into the cavernous, yet delightful, happy story of my past.

As I mentioned yesterday, I receive so many messages from people who are feeling off, or alone, or just simply down, so I have decided to dig up some old happy stories for you, so that if you need a quick pick me up (while we eat any of the cake that is leftover from breakfast. Oh yes. The cake given to me by the girl whom I told I loved!) then here is a virtual sweet treat for you. I hand-picked some posts that I thought would let you get to know me better–the old me–when I was a new mother. I feel so blessed to have written this blog daily for 4 years, as I have my daughter’s entire history recorded;

I have, written down, those tiny things that I wouldn’t have remembered otherwise.

Bon Appetit.

Happy Engagemaversary

A Name is a Name is a Name

“You Know You Have a Girlie Girl When…”

Sunday, Monday, Tu(tu)esday…”

A Mother

This thing that happens.

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Your Grand Tour.

Rebecca Fox Starr — Thu, 08 Jan 2015 16:41:21 +0000

The time has finally come for your official Grand Tour of our new home here at Mommy, Ever After.

I will say that some additional features are being added this week, so I will update you when they are available (including the ability to be a subscriber again and get emails sent directly to you whenever a post is published and also a feed that shows you my recent Instagram @mommyeverafter).

But that’s like saying, “We are replacing the backspplash in the kitchen.”

The main house is ready to be toured.

So let me just remind you (or show you) what Mommy, Ever After used to look like:

And now, thanks to the incredible team at Brand Revive, it now looks this:

I love the new site; How it is so simple but holds so much.

But, I want to make sure that you know how much there actually is to access. We have many different pages, from our top bar of professional pages to the “Story” sections that each are filled with categories. So here, let me show you. But first, let me preface this by saying that the tour I am giving to you is for the full desktop version of the site. If you have yet to check it out, I implore you to, as it is where Brand Revive’s work really shines. I am so fortunate that they were able to build awesome sites for your mobile devices, as well, but there is nothing like seeing the whole thing on your big computer screen. Trust me.

Okay, so the first thing I want to show you is how to access all of the parts of all of the stories. “A Happy Story” is everything that I had previously written on the old WordPress site leading up until February of 2013. It deals with my courtship and relationship with my husband, being pregnant, the birth of my daughter, adjusting to life as a new parent, the enchantment and the craziness. If you hover over “A Happy Story” you will see this:

The next is “A Hard Story”. This section deals with my toughest points from 2013 and 2014. It is the story of my Postpartum Depression and all of the things associated with that dark time. There are no categories under “A Hard Story” because although there are many posts under that section, it is all just one, hard story.

The last story, which is my favorite, for obvious reasons is “A Hopeful Story”. It chronicles my journey out of the darkness to where I am today. In this section I write about my family, friends and, most importantly, finding myself.

Above the story section, you can find some other important information that I do not want you to miss.

Under “About Me” you will find my bio, from my personal life to my academic credentials.

Under “Partnerships and Purpose” you can see my mission statement, as well as specific ways that people and businesses can partner with Mommy, Ever After. My post about Rodan + Fields on Monday was what I call “A Sponsored Post”, and they also have ads on my site (I will get to that later). What I aim to make very clear in this page is that I truly will only partner with good people and companies. I would never compromise the integrity of my site nor the happiness of my readers.

The “Press” page is pretty straightforward; it highlights the places where Mommy, Ever After has been featured, from TV to print to online articles and collaborations.

Finally, there is our contact page, which has proven very helpful (for example, this is where I have been asked to please bring back the option to subscribe to the site.)

Speaking of Contact,

Let me introduce my professional team:

From top to bottom:

My business Manager is Erin Carlson

My Public Relations Manager is Kimberly Ettinger

My Literary Agent is Renee C. Fountain.

Finally, if you are looking from your desktop, down the side of the site are (big!) ads for companies in which I really believe (if you are looking from a phone, these ads will appear if you scroll down to the very bottom.) It is here that I feature a dynamic skincare company, an innovative beauty tool, a fabulous shoe store, an incredible acupuncturist for women, an inventive kick-starter-turned-business accessory and a beautiful family photographer. Click on any of these links to take you to their own personal sites.

I am (we are) fortunate enough that I have some really incredible partners lined up for the future; people whom I believe can truly change your life.

And there you have it. The visual tour of my new baby, which has given me incredible happiness and pride. We all know that it is what is inside all of these categories and pages that is important, but at least now you know your way.

So take off your coat and shoes, make yourself comfortable, and stay awhile.

I love having you here.

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Happy half birthday.

mommyeverafter — Thu, 24 Apr 2014 23:36:47 +0000

Today, my son turned six months old.
His half birthday.
I had such a hard time finding the words that I wanted to use to express how I am feeling. I want to do him justice. But these six months, man,
they’ve changed my entire life.
And without a doubt, this little (huge) guy has changed my life for the better
and for good.
I look back to the post I wrote for my daughter’s half birthday, three and a half years ago, and I am such a different person now. I am no longer a new mom. I don’t mark every milestone as fastidiously. I don’t plan princess parties to mark each month’s occasion.
But I love no less.
No less at all.
So in thinking, this is what I want to say about my son and his half birthday:
There’s this thing that I do with my daughter.
It’s like when I grab her hand from the driver’s seat in my car,
but even more powerful.
I hug her, hold her tight, breathe her in, and all of a sudden, the rest of the universe disappears.
I enter a new place.
This place is home to me. It is my place in this world, where I feel most at peace and most right.
When it comes to my son, the second child,
I feel as though I haven’t fallen prey to many of the common stereotypes. For instance, I still take a boat load of pictures of him, I still am tickled by each new thing he learns or does, I still honor his schedule,
but I realized, just yesterday, that I had yet to create a place in the world for just us.
I tested it.
It was in the middle of the day, right before we were set to pick up my daughter from school. And we weren’t busy playing on the floor or wrestling with a bottle. I was holding him and talking to him and all of a sudden, the urge to hold him close came over me.
And so I did.
And just like that,
home.
My place.
It is my place to be their mom.
These six months have been the hardest of my life, but not at all because of my son. His presence has brought me such joy.
He has blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair and smiles coyly, playing games already.
He sits with great facility, rolls all around, giggles at his sister, and on this past Easter Sunday, squealed with delight while eating smoked pork butt.
He is gentle. He is soft. He is sweet. He is round.
He is home.
And so while I may be in a new place, it is a place better than I could have ever imagined. I love my family in a way that I never thought possible.
And even though it’s been hard,
even though a lot of crap has happened,
I feel so blessed,
so lucky,
that I get to call them mine.

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I guess I named her well.

mommyeverafter — Thu, 03 Apr 2014 11:03:16 +0000

Last night my daughter decided to dress as the Disney Princess for whom she was named…
wearing an old Halloween costume…
from when she was six months old.
Now, my daughter is amazing; she is an old soul, so precocious and astute;
But man, is she stubborn. And insists on method acting.
So if she is playing Peter Pan, I am Wendy. And if I mistakenly refer to her by her name, she freaks out.
I describe it, sometimes, as living with a terrorist.
My husband says he does not negotiate with terrorists. I do. A little bit. Because besides being smart and witty and creative
she’s so darn cute.
But in any case, here she is, sleep in her eyes, cuddled up next to me, in a size 6 month sized Princess Belle dress.
The terrorist has won this battle; here’s hoping I win the war.
Ahhhh parenthood.

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Love Notes/My Reply

mommyeverafter — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 21:46:35 +0000

You may remember my recent discovery,
in which I was able to give new life to (/soak in the beauty of) my husband’s old love notes.
Well, it happened again. Except, this time, the love notes were from yours truly.
I know. Right? You didn’t think I had it in me. Ahhhh, way back in old ’06 when I was just a babe in the woods.
(Or, you know, had two free hands at once, on the reg.)
So here’s how it went down: Once again, I was cleaning out and packing up my basement.
And feeling all sentimental, for a couple of big reasons.
First, the move is imminent. Imminent as in come 2 hours from now, the couch that I am sitting on as I type this story will no longer be in my house, but en route to an old Middle School friend of mine in Ohio. But, again, a story for another day.
Second, I am supa sentimental about things love and marriage for one pretty spectacular reason. You ready? TWIN is getting married. My Twin. I know. I can’t even type right now without crying. Dear Go Go will be making an honest woman out of my girl. My sister. My better half. But this is most certainly another may-jor post for another day. Because, as I said, I have tears to dry, and because, as I said, I have a UHaul to load. But let me just give you this teaser: My Twin Sister is getting married to the most spectacular man + a week ago today she made me ugly cry (with joy!) with some wedding related news + we are planning the most epic pre-wedding-night-sleepover-EVER for late this summer….and, I must be saved from myself. You see? Once I get on the subject of Twin getting married, I can’t stop. And I have a story to tell. A different love story. So the Twin story is coming…but for that you must, as my Twin herself says, “Wait with breath that is bated.”
Sob.
So back to today. I was cleaning out a bunch of boxes when I came across my guy’s old wallet. I saw it and immediately got a case of the sentimentals, as this was the first ever real gift I bought for him.
(In case you’re wondering what the first ever fake gift was, it would be this package, delivered to his doorstep on week 2 of dating: King Kong DVD, a paperback copy of In Our Time and a package of homemade brownies. I know. Now you can sleep tonight. Phew!)
I peaked inside (secretly hoping to find a hidden 20 stashed in that sucker!) and came across a little bundle of papers. Small, crumpled little papers.
These:

My guy is sensitive. And sometimes, when he had been faced with a challenge– the first day of a new job or a seemingly insurmountable task–I liked to give him a little reminder that my love would be with him. And so I gave him little notes; affirmations; poems; I gave him my heart,
in the form of a heart shaped post-it.
And as I sit here and reflect upon that sentiment, I realize that I can do the same thing for myself now;
I am moving to a new house, and about that I am unbelievably excited. But also a bit nostalgic. This house is the place where we brought our daughter home from the hospital. This house has held our memories and kept our secrets. This house means something to me. But all of that, all of the memories, all of the love, can come with me as I move on.
They may not be able to fit into a wallet
or an album of hand-drawn declarations of love,
but I know they will continue to live in me. In us. In the new home we create.
So, while I wish I could write more,
it’s time to get off the couch. Because this couch has some new memories to make.
And so do we.
So,
here we grow.

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Love (notes) and marriage.

mommyeverafter — Sat, 17 Nov 2012 01:35:06 +0000

This evening, as my husband was putting the baby to bed, I went down to the basement to go through our belongings.
I am cleaning things out because (gasp!) we are planning to move. But that’s another story for another day.
So in an effort to purge all things (I) deemed unnecessary, I took a few moments to gather my thoughts. And my belongings.
And in looking for junk to dump, I struck gold.
I came across a photo album, each flimsy plastic slot filled with a neatly folded love note.
A note from my guy,
to his girl. To the me I used to be.

***
Here’s the thing. Partnership is an amazing thing; a gift, a joy, a treasure. It feels good to have someone’s back, and to feel your own weight supported by another. Marriage is beautiful. But, like any other great thing (an exciting job, a child, a new home) it comes with it’s challenges.
Being the parents of a toddler is it’s own unique flavor of hard. It’s hard to talk over a temper tantrum. It’s hard to juggle the demands of the day. It’s hard to make time.
***
Lately, I have found myself getting sentimental about my relationship. Starting many sentences with “remember when”s and reminiscing about our days of old. Because truly, we’ve grown up together. Not just in the literal sense (as neighbors all our lives) but because we met as young people, and have faced some unimaginably hard things together. We’ve lost opportunities, lost jobs, lost loved ones. He cheered for me when I graduated from college. I’ve held him as he’s cried.
That’s what happens when you have history with someone. For someone.
And maybe it’s because we’re making a big life change,
or because our little girl is growing before our eyes, or because we are about to travel back to our special place,
or simply because quality time for us right now often consists of 15 minutes alone together at the end of the day,
with me pointing out a couch I like on Houzz
and with him giving me a kiss goodnight as I doze off during Homeland;
it’s easy to sleep next to the same person
year after year
but it’s hard to always remember how you’ve gotten there.
***
Tonight, as I cleaned out my basement, I unearthed my memories. I read note after note, lingering over each word. Words of love, of hope, words of a future still unknown. Declarations. Promises.
And in reading, it did not feel as though I was seeing these words for the first time, but it felt as though I was understanding their sentiments in an entirely new way.

I picked up a note from this date six years ago. In it he drew a cartoon, and wrote “…You are the greatest caretaker and friend anyone could ever ask for! You are always there for me to help me when I am sick, to make me smile when I am sad, and to do something silly for a laugh. It is just one of the many reasons that I love you so very much…”
My husband tells me he loves me every day. In the morning. From work. On his way home. Before bed. I am no stranger to those words. But these notes told me why.
Because, when it comes down to it, when he gets home from work and I’m in my velour sweatpants, hair up in a ponytail, stirring a pot of soup as I chase after our daughter and dog,
it’s hard for me to always believe that he loves that me. That me that I now see.
Even though he tells me. And shows me. And looks me in the eyes and promises me how lucky he feels that I’m his.
Reading these notes helped me. They reminded me. They did exactly what he promised to do, as he scrawled in permanent marker on the inside jacket to the photo album. He wrote, “The pages of this book hold letters that are the hard copy proof of my love for you. They will always be here for you as a reminder, or when you just need a smile. I am yours, now and forever. I love you.”
***
Marriage is hard. Being a parent is hard. Moving is really freakin’ hard.
And sometimes, you need years and years of memories to envelop you, to make you feel safe, and to make you feel loved.
And sometimes, you just need a little album.

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We’re the three best friends that anyone could have

mommyeverafter — Tue, 22 May 2012 20:30:47 +0000

The Beach Edition:

And we’ll never ever ever ever ever leave each other.

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Good Vibrations

mommyeverafter — Mon, 21 May 2012 18:00:31 +0000

In recent weeks, I have had the privilege of watching as my daughter’s obsession with music has soared to new heights.
She sings along to the radio.
She writes her own songs
(“Sunglasses. I want sunglassES on right NOW. Doggie wears sunglassES TOO. Mommy, sunglassES! Wear sunglassES to Zeydie’s offICE!”)
She plays notes on the piano in time
and turns everything into a drum
and asks for dance parties incessantly.
And I cannot express how happy this makes me.
But, I can’t say I’m surprised.
For as I spent this past Saturday night with my original Fab Four (Mom, Dad, Sis, Moi)
at the Beach Boys Concert
I realized, once again, that she has come by this trait honestly.
Because we (the four of us) lost ourselves in that show.
Like that old saying advises, we truly did dance like no one was watching.
When the Boys did their surfing set, I tapped my foot and patted my thigh, (like the good former drummer I am!)
as my sister swayed rhythmically to the melody.
The four of us belted the words to “Don’t Worry Baby” at the top of our lungs
and swayed, arm in arm, to “Good Vibrations”.
We each put in our right hand, clasped them all together, and waved them back and forth, as one unit, to the cover of “Why Do Fools Fall in Love”.
Fools in love, we were.
And we did The Swim. A lot of it.
We each found our own home in the music
and then joined together
in (what I can only describe as, so pardon the cliche,)
harmony.
It was the best concert ever.
So, the next morning, as we danced to “Wouldn’t it be Nice” in our pajamas,
fighting over who would get the chance to hold the baby as she bopped and swayed and spun around,
I realized that music isn’t just in her
it is in all of us. It’s another member of our family.
Good Vibrations, indeed.

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Oh happy day.

mommyeverafter — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 17:11:26 +0000

Thank you, my sweet friends,
(online, offline, and everywhere in between…)
for making me feel this special.
(Which, by the way, is SO special!)
Today has been a lovely a day
and it’s only 1pm.
So thank you, thank you, thank you.
(And, by all means, keep it comin’!)
Love and Macaroons,
The Bday Gal.

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Just some things.

mommyeverafter — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 18:06:01 +0000

This past week has kept me oh-so-busy.
Like, Bizzy.
And it’s been good.
But, it has not left me with the time or energy to put my pen to paper to keyboard,
or what have you.
So, as a way to fill you in (or an attempt to make an excuse),
here are some things.
Some things I’ve done since we spoke last.
Just some things:
I’ve started to jog. And by jog, I mean I jog for a minute and then walk for ten minutes. But, I’m moving my body, so now I can officially call myself a jock. My next step will be getting a jersey with my name on it.
I’ve become a regular at our favorite lunch spot.
I’ve been singing. For other people (!).
I made these. And I ate them. All of them. Thank Gd I’m an athlete, now.
I found my poetry, again.
I crowded into a tiny dressing room with my Mom and my Mommom and my Aunt and My Sister and my Daughter, as we all helped my sister to find the perfect dress. I felt so lucky. (More on this to come…)
I watched a dear, so-in-love couple as they became husband and wife. I toasted to their marriage. I requested this song I got DOWN.
I bowled, terribly.
I woke up one morning and danced, in sunglasses, to Queen, before brushing my teeth.
I heard a friend tell me that I didn’t seem like myself; I knew that she was right; I let her talk me through it; I felt so much love.
I had a picnic outside with my class. We dined on chocolate cake and rice cakes. We are so elegant.
I heard my daughter sing every word of “Sydney (I’ll Come Running)”.
I got a hair cut. I botched a manicure. I found my daughter in my makeup drawer, with a face-full of blush. And pride.
I explained to a group of 3-year-old boys why my daughter needs glasses.
I haven’t slept well.
I’ve seen piles of feathers.
I’ve missed you.

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