But I am also lucky enough to have an actual sister; She has appeared many times on here throughout the years, and although we don’t get to see each other as often as we would like, my kids adore her.

My sister and I are completely different. She is a stong, driven athlete and fiercely independent. She is an award winning journalist and her resume is extremely impressive. She is a vegetarian, a runner and she does not like to talk about her feelings.

But, the thing is, there are these things–these sister things–that outweigh all of the differences.

For there is no one else on this earth with whom I can discuss TV shows and characters and storylines like I can with my sister.

(Side note: As I am typing this, she just asked me if I had watched a certain reality TV show on Bravo.)

We have inside jokes that no one else would understand, and when we sing together, our voices resonate in perfect harmony. That is because we are sisters.

There are just some sister things. I can’t explain them. They just are.

 Last evening I got a song stuck in my head, but really, it was just about a measure of a song, one to which I knew not a single lyric, but I felt like I had heard it recently and knew that the only person who could  possibly help me was my sister. So I called her and said, “I have this song in my head and I have no idea who sings it but I think it is from a TV show or a movie and it goes something like this.” And sang a few “Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun”s to her.

“It’s ‘Take Me to Church’ by Hozier,” she said, instantly.

There was not a second of hesitation. I ran to my computer and to YouTube and sure enough, she was spot on.

She couldn’t tell me where I had heard it recently, and then it hit me: It was from Tom Schwartz’s Instagram.

Fitting that this mystery song came from the social media feed of a Bravo network celebrity, or “Bravolebrity”, as they say.

But I don’t take it for granted, the sister thing, because as different as we may be, we also share something that I do not share with anyone else.

We look alike. Our voices are hard to tell apart on the phone. She was the first person I told when I found out I was pregnant with my son and she was the first person to take my daughter for a pedicure just this past weekend.

She knows things that no one else will ever know.

I may not always understand my sister, as we speak different life languages, but will always get each others’ melodies.

I always love her. I love her an incredible amount. And I know that the feeling is mutual.

I will always support her.

I will always be her number one fan.

And she will always be the person I call when I can’t figure out a song, when I can only come up with three notes.

Because she can figure it out for me.

Because it’s a sister thing.

The post Sister things. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I have been fighting some major fatigue for the past two weeks and today was just a long day.

By 4pm, I had face planted onto the bed in the guest room, as the kids snuggled and played around me.

I snapped an iPhone selfie so that I could publish it with the words “I am too tired to write. I love you.”

And then I decided to look for a quote about Wednesdays to fill in the blanks, as I am truly unable to come up with anything worth reading, and it hit me! One of my greatest Wednesday stories of all time:

It was Springtime, during my Freshman year of college. I remember leaving a computer lab on campus and I am sad that I cannot remember it’s name now (maybe it was the West lab? Not the underground lab by the library, but a big, two story lab, kind of in the center of campus? You had to walk in to a freestanding building and walk up and it was a huge open room with computers?) and seeing a girl with what looked like some smeared charcoal on her face. I silently wondered if I should tell her, but kept quiet. And then I saw several more kids, all coming from her direction, with similar smudges. “They must have been doing some kind of art project in a studio class,” I figured. I met up with my boyfriend and pointed out this group of people with grey-smeared faces.

And that is how this Jewish girl from Philadelphia found about about Ash Wednesday.

And goodnight.

(p.s. I have now looked up computer labs on campus maps and I am really frustrated with myself; If you can help me to figure out which computer lab I am thinking of, I will buy you a Creamery cappuccino.)

The post Ash Wednesday appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I am used to many of my posts being greeted with great warmth and empathy.

“I feel exactly the same way!” I hear.

But I don’t think that this will be that kind of post; it is going to be a different post.

An unpopular post.

And that is OK.

I am writing in support of the snow day today, and, really, in defense of all snow days, whether the call was made wisely due to blizzard-like-conditions, or prematurely, causing great inconvenience.

I am a teacher. I have been the director of programs for children. I am a stay-at-home-mom and the primary caregiver for my kids. I am a writer who works from my house.

I get it.

But first, let me backtrack a bit. Before I was a mother, I was a teacher. I went to graduate school for education, have taught at many age levels and have heard countless (literally countless) complaints about school being closed for snow days.

When parents enroll their children in school, educational or extracurricular programs, they do so because they need to. And when those programs are cancelled because of (impending or falling or fallen) snow, it can cause problems, ranging from inconvenient to nearly impossible.

But, and I say this with all of the compassion in the world, I think that this culture of “OH NO, PLEASE I PRAY THAT MY KID’S SCHOOL DOESN’T CLOSE” has gotten a bit ridiculous. There, I said it. This is part of what is going to make this post unpopular; perhaps, even unappreciated. But, let me explain.

During my first years as a full time teacher, I was not yet a mother, though I longed to be. This is not a subject I have ever broached on this site before, and this is not the post in which I will really be doing so, though it is coming. It took me a bit of time to conceive my first child. I had no diagnosis, no medical problems of which to speak, and I was very young. It just wasn’t happening. And that situation went from inconvenient to nearly impossible.

I have always been a teacher who loved my students as my own and cared for them as such; It was hard when I held children, for whom I cared so deeply, and found myself waiting month after month, facing the constant disappointment of “we will try again next time”. You may have noticed on my sidebar that I have advertised for The Healing Arts Center of Philadelphia since the launch of the new site. This is because, as I have stated time and again, the goal of the advertising on my site is to make peoples’ lives better and that is what Steven Mavros did for me. Much more on Steven and his practice later, as they will be the subject of a whole post (because, really, the story of how we recently went out for a business dinner and I told our waiter, “This is the man who got me pregnant, but no, we have never been together” deserves a post of it’s own, does it not?) but for now, I am just trying to provide context. I wanted to be a mother, but it took some time. And every time a parent would complain to me about how the school had to close for “another school day?” something inside me would hurt.

But I am a compassionate and non-judgmental person. I realized, always, two salient points: that these parents loved their children to no end and that I had no real concept of what it was like to actually be a parent, day in and day out, as my children left me at the end of each school day.

And then, in 2010, I became a mother. For four years, I taught every day while also being the primary caregiver to my daughter. It was a constant juggling act. I had to miss things little things like pediatrician appointments and snuggly sick days, and then bigger things, like her recent camp visiting day when she learned how to swim for the very first time. Again, these things that I missed, they were sometimes inconvenient and other times, nearly impossible.

But enough about the past. Let’s move on to today. Because today is the first day when I have worked up the courage to say this thing that I have been thinking since I was a student teacher nearly a decade ago.

Let me give you some of my perspective:

Today, I have two kids home with me, as I stay at home with my son and my daughter’s school is closed for a snow day.

Today, I had 4 appointments on my calendar, as well as the management of several projects involved in the finishing of our basement. At least one has been delayed so far because of today’s snow, pushing back our deadline (which was originally scheduled for January 5) even further.

Today I had two doctor’s appointments, one for my son that is possibly scary and definitely time sensitive

and one for myself.

I don’t talk about it all the time, but I am still facing major health issues and a dramatic change in my treatment plans.

I also had a business meeting scheduled for a possible partnership that would be extremely exciting for me and even more exciting for you (pinky swear).

I also have a babysitter scheduled for today, but because of the weather and her commute from center city, we had to change her hours to keep her safe (my top priority, no question).

 Finally, I have this. This is not only a source of great joy for me (which it is–it so is) but it is also my job. And while I try to tell my daughter to watch my son so that I can publish a quick post, the laptop is like a magnet for a 16 month old whose favorite toys are the Xbox, remote and toilet (read: I cannot type a word when he is in the room, and I can’t leave him alone without him crawling into the oven).

This means that for me, snow days are far from easy. But I love them. I love today. I smiled when I woke at 6:15am to see the email from my daughter’s preschool that they would be closed. I was so excited to tell her that we would be able to stay home together, drinking hot chocolate and making up new games. I love the necklace of beaded hearts that I am wearing, just placed around my neck by my little girl who wanted to make me a special snow day present.

I am discouraged that my son’s appointment with the ophthalmologist has to be postponed;

I am disappointed that I won’t have my coffee date that I was hoping to turn into a partnership;

I get overwhelmed by the juggling act, just like everyone else.

But I am also endlessly grateful. I am so grateful that the people who are in charge of my daughter’s school have decided that her safety (our safety) is paramount;

I am grateful that I can hear my kids whispering from the other room right now as I type (I am hiding the laptop under a blanket) as they hide in their own clubhouse of sorts.

But, most of all, I am grateful that I have the problem of having more juggling pins than I have hands, because that means that my dreams have come true.

I have the resources to get help for my health issues;

I am writing, now, every day;

I am a mother.

So perhaps, instead of scorning the snow day (or me, for writing this unpopular post), you can find a way to celebrate it,

inconveniences, impossibilities and all,

because a snow day that makes life hard means that we have so much.

Appointments can be rescheduled. Personal days can be taken. Things can be figured out. Deadlines can be pushed back

And it is not always easy,

but it is my firm belief that it is always,

always

worth it.

The post An unpopular post. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Well, when I look back at what I was writing a year ago, it is not so much different in content, but it is from a different place and a different person. Things that were in the foreground then are now in my background, and I have new characters playing lead roles.

Almost exactly a year ago I wrote this post called Living. It struck me, because it could have been written today.

But, what struck me more deeply, more emotionally, is that I was able to do what that card implied;

and that’s called life.

The post Living. A whole year later. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I have tremendous guilt;

I would describe this feeling of guilt a a combination of pressure that I put on myself and a feeling of failure.

I have a lot going on in my personal life. I am helping to build a most awesome community. I am trying desperately to find time to blog, and get my book published. And, then, there’s the most important thing: I am trying to be a good wife, mother and human. And sometimes I don’t feel like there are enough hours in the day. I have never felt this way before. I honestly believe it is because I have never cared about anything (anything not personal, that is) as much as I care about Mommy, Ever After. I want it to succeed. It is hard for me to admit that, because that makes me vulnerable (like I could potentially fail and I have never failed at anything before, nor have I ever really invested in myself like this) but I want to be honest. That was my pledge since day one, and so I am keeping it.

I stay up late at night, a lot of nights, making sure that I have enough content to publish, when I know I will have a day filled with doctor visits when I wake.

I try to answer every email, every comment, because I want to, because I love this.

And then, here is where the guilt really sets in,

I try to be a really good mom.

Right now I stay at home with my son and from 3pm on I am home with my daughter. I try to plan fun things for them, have dance parties and make special adventures (I have been trying for 20 minutes to find the link to the story of when I took my daughter to the ice cream shop a month or two ago, and I give up!).

I try to make sure they are well fed, happy, safe and warm (in every sense of the word).

And,

and…this is the thing that you are really never supposed to say (but I am going to say it, OK?) I think that I have suffered from all of this pressure. I am so busy responding to emails and writing my blog and getting my kids the right snack (no not the Doc McStuffins gummies, the Frozen gummies) that I don’t often have the time to check in with my own needs. I do not mean that I don’t have time to watch a movie or read a book; I mean that I am having a hard time being able to make my basic needs. Obviously my health has suffered.

Today, my mom came over to help me with the baby as I am still feeling unwell, and I talked to her about how I feel so much better than last year in many ways, but in other ways I am actually worse off.

I am just catching up on this past week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy (yes, I still watch it, thank you, much) and the main medical drama is centered around a woman who drives off of a bridge with her children in the car. Many people (doctors included) are judging her, her husband is incredulous and no one can understand.

But I was very moved by the husband’s speech to the doctor, when she asked if his wife was under stress. He started off by saying “no” but then went on to list all of the things that she has on her plate, all of the carpools she has to drive and soccer games she has to go to and how tired she must be.

And, as I watched, I was thinking, “I get it.”

I do not want to drive off of a bridge, but sometimes it is overwhelming how much we are supposed to hold with only two hands.

Ultimately, the storyline on Grey’s ended up being that the mother had a brain tumor, so she did not have any control of her decision or impulse to drive off of the bridge, but I think that is irrelevant (well, not totally, but somewhat) because we as mothers are constantly beating ourselves up for the things that we haven’t done. The note that forgot to include in the lunch box. The laundry that still has not been put away.

The blog post that doesn’t get posted until 10pm.

And so, I guess the first step in recovery is admitting that I have a problem.

I am Rebecca and I have a problem with guilt.

I am going to work hard to rid myself of the pressure, for my own health and the happiness of those around me.

But, in the meantime, thank you for your support; THIS right here…that is what makes it worth it. So, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Now I am off to make myself a proper protein shake and drink it in front of Vanderpump Rules because I deserve it.

And I will enjoy it.

Or, I will try my very, very best.

The post Guilt. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I woke up, early, to the sound of my son crying at his normal time and was immediately hit with extreme vertigo. I was so dizzy that I could not move or walk.

I got back into bed and went back to sleep.

My husband took care of the morning routine and then I woke up in time for the baby’s nap, so he handed my son to me, we cuddled up, and I just kept sleeping. It was so strange. I am not a sleeper.

I had planned to spend my day in other ways than in my bed, sipping gatorade and taking bites of toast.

I had errands to run and writing to do, but really, my priority was finding time to watch the Parenthood series finale.

Let me back up a bit;

Last night I had a little music hangout with my bandmate/next door neighbor which turned into a little life hangout with both my partner in harmony and my dear friend (his wife). We talked a lot about some hard things; emotional issues that are affecting us and traded words and advice.

I forget who said it first, but I think my bandmate mentioned the fact that I should be eating more cheeseburgers and I said, “I would be happy to eat more cheeseburgers!” and then, not 2 minutes later, he handed me a plate with a hot, homemade cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard and pickles. It was delicious and I felt very lucky; not just that my next door neighbors are great cooks, and not just that we get along so well, but that they are both so incredibly caring. They truly care. They are such good people.

After finishing my burger I headed home to watch the Parenthood series finale, as it has been one of my favorite shows of all time and so this was a momentous occasion.

(When another one of my favorite shows ended while I was in college (where I did not have cable), my parents TAPED it, had it sent in an overnight express package and I watched that tape and cried so hard until I burst a blood vessel below my eye.)

I get invested in my shows; the characters are my friends, and the family’s become extended members of my own. We recently got a new cable box, and despite the fact that I am sure that I had set a series recording, there was no Parenthood. I was so disappointed.

In any case, I went to bed early and then woke up to today, which was definitely dizzying (literally).

I was fortunate to have help in and out throughout the day (I was not strong enough to be able to lift my son), and that Parenthood was now available to watch, but I could not keep my eyes open, and it took me until 4pm to finally get to the end.

I will not spoil anything for anyone; In fact, in an effort to not have anything spoiled for me, I stayed off of all social media until I had finished the episode.

The entire episode was incredibly touching. I was hit with the feels more times than I can even remember. There were so many things that were so close to my heart.

But the part that I think got me most emotional was the scene where Sarah and Zeek sat on the porch. For those of you who do not watch the show, this was a conversation between Craig T. Nelson, the family’s patriarch, and Lauren Graham, one of his four children. Zeek had been having ongoing heart problems and Sarah, who had never quite found her way to happiness, was finally going to get married and to the right person. During the conversation, Zeek admitted to Sarah that she had always been his favorite (his second born). It was very touching.

And then he said, in a voice that was perfectly vulnerable, “Have I been a good father?”

“The very best.” she replied, as they held hands.

And I cried. Cried happy and cried sad.

And it got me thinking about parenthood, the actual state of being and not the television show.

As a child, when prompted to say what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would always say, “A mom.”

It was always my ambition to be a mother, more than any other “job”.

I always thought I would be the first to have kids (I was) and that my life would be devoted to them (it is).

But today, for the first time, I got very overwhelmed with the emotion that although I do not currently work outside of the home, there is a reason why I wanted to be a mother.

My goal with this site, with the book I want to publish, with the stories I share, and in life in general is to help people.

I think that I wanted to be a mother because I have always wanted to help people, and somehow I knew that being in this role would allow me to do just that.

It is much harder to measure success when it comes to the career of parenthood; you do not get promotions, you aren’t given consistent feedback from peers and there are times when, despite your best efforts, things go wrong.

But for some reason today it occurred to me, as I watched Zeek and Sarah on the porch, and then as the family celebrated Sarah’s wedding, that I don’t care that my success cannot be quantified,

as I am living my dream: I am helping people.

I say that humbly, as I am pretty realistic about the scope in which I can actually touch peoples’ lives, but I know that I give my all, every single day to my three babies:

My daughter

My son

and Mommy, Ever After.

Since I had to stay away from Facebook for nearly 20 hours, I logged back in this afternoon to many messages and alerts and notifications, the most of which were from the new Mommy, Ever After Community. I saw people giving each other recommendations, suggesting cute outfits, sending words of encouragement, and, more than anything, connecting. Bonding.

And for that, I am very grateful.

I said this earlier in on the group’s page upon logging back in, but one of my favorite words of all time is “charm” in both the noun and verb forms. To me, this group, which is a symbol of my desire to help others, is my charm. I hold it dear to me. I keep it close. I will protect it with all that I have. Like a mama bear.

Like a mom.

I am bummed that I feel ill, when I so cherish the weekends as time to spend with my family, I am sad to say goodbye to The Bravermans, and I am a bit anxious.

But today, I got to live my dream. So today I am happy.

And as they played in the opening credits of every episode of Parenthood,

“May you always do for others
And let others do for you”

words from the poet, Bob Dylan.

And if I can do that, then I can say, with great conviction, that I am a success.

The post Parenthood. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Well, that is what I wish I could do, but not just in the idom-way that implies the sharing of your deepest secrets and fears; I also am someone who tries not to say the word “literally” when I don’t actually mean something literally (eg. I don’t actually wish to take the organ that pumps blood through my body and somehow pour it out); But, what I wish I could do, right now, is to take the feeling that is coursing through my being right now and pour it out onto this page for you to see and feel and experience, as I am completely and totally overwhelmed and I want you to see it in a way better than I can possibly put it into words.

Let me back up. A week ago, I wrote a a post about sex. I was scared to hit “publish”, but ultimately glad that I had, as I got tremendous feedback (not just in volume but in content). Last night I was set to publish the follow up post about sex, with the answers that I had been given during the week, and, somehow, that evolved, as I was writing, into the creation of a Mommy, Ever After Community. You want to understand that last line better? Click on the link above.

So, as I was writing this post, it occurred to me that I have established this incredible community for myself, as I get to interact with readers every day and share intimate secrets and advice and ideas; yet, my readers were not benefiting from this from one another. So, I decided to start a community; a completely secret and safe space; a vault in which we can all share our deepest secrets, funny stories, fears, findings, and anything else that you can think of but feel like there is no other place to do so.

I published the post, created the secret group (have I mentioned that it is secret? VAULT. Invite only. So if you want an invite, email me rebecca@mommyeverafter.com) and hit post and then had a friend come by to give me a hug, which turned into a 3 hour conversation on my bed. This woman is, as I described to her this morning, an old friend who I happened to have just met. Our husbands are involved in a Tuesday night activity together, so this week we decided to get together ourselves.

So I broke out the good stuff. You know how some parents keep some things (oh, I don’t know, crystal glasses, wine, etc.) for when the kids go to bed in order to keep the items (and kids) safe? Well that is what I do with my faux fur blanket and pillows. I broke that stuff out, and we talked and talked and talked and talked and held hands and hugged many times.

And when she left and I opened up my computer and checked my phone I was stunned.

This community, this idea that I was so scared to mention, had exploded in the 3 hours since it’s inception.

There is now a place where many, many women are now connecting on every single kind of level that you can connect with another human (while over the internet). While I was gone, the people who had been sending me private messages for months (years) INTRODUCED THEMSELVES to the entire group. Do you understand the bravery that takes? Of course you do. Because no one ever does it. But, slowly, this happened, and now…now magic has happened. And it is happening (I type this and see, in another tab on my browser, that I have 17 new post notifications to read once I hit “Publish”).

And I can’t write any more without crying, but it is awesome. Beyond words. It is just awesome. And I could not mean that more literally.

Do you know what is decidedly less awesome?

How I just took 5 minutes to respond to the incredible, moving, brilliant posts that have been written on the page in just the last hour alone,

during which time my son used one of his favorite toys (the TOYlet) as a water play table;

…a toilet that, and I am not naming names here, someone peed in and forgot, while rushing out the door, to flush (someone who also just so happens to be someone who does not use toilet paper when peeing, like perhaps someone who stands to pee).

But it doesn’t matter. Because my life just got better and it is because of you. And I can’t find the words the express the gratitude. This community has become one of the best things I have ever done and I only hopes it helps others as much as it has already helped me.

So, for right this moment, just this moment, ” Nobody, no, nobody, is ever gonna rain on my parade.”…

…not even my urine covered son.

The post AWESOME. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Last week, I wrote my first ever post about sex. I am very careful about the content that I include on my site, a site called “Mommy, Ever After”, but I think that the post (and the subsequent conversations that it sparked) are lifestyle issues that will help all of us in our “Hopeful Stories”.

First and foremost, thank you, you brave souls, who responded to the post, both publicly and privately. I had some of the most entertaining conversations and actually laughed out loud at times. And I also was able to gain incredible insight, and get some really difficult questions answered. I learned SO much!

So what did you* have to say about sex and what did I learn?

Here goes…

First of all, the majority of the people who responded were married** women. The main variable was age, as I heard from women from 25-65.

Every single one of the people in that demographic (demographic being “married woman”) agreed with my theory, in some way or another, that married people do not typically talk to their single friends about sex. They also felt the bubble-person feeling that I feel.

This was, based on my “research”, for two reasons:

Either, the married woman would talk to her single friend about the single friend’s sex life in great detail without the single friend asking about the married friend’s sex life

or

the married friend felt uncomfortable bringing up her own sex life, primarily because of the fact that she was married.

My theory remains that married women do, however, discuss sex details (and sometimes very intimate details) with their married friends. For instance, I heard from married women whom I do not know very well (perhaps I have only met them a few times, haven’t seen them in a decade or our relationship has been limited to online only, thus far) yet they were unabashedly sharing details with me about very specific things regarding their own sex lives and sexual selves. I should note, I am being deliberately vague when it comes to detail, as when I published the first sex post I assured you that the post would not, in fact, be all that sexual, and I am trying not to veer off course. If you want to message me privately, that is a different story. There are some women who do not know my middle name but know the most personal details of my sex life because of the conversations we have shared after my post.

In my original piece, I mentioned that there is a wide spectrum when it comes to talking about sex with a member of the opposite sex, whether one party is married, both parties are married or some other combination. This was confirmed to me in my conversations, as many married women do talk to other men, married or single, about their sex lives, but made sure to say things like, “…usually with my spouse present.”

So, in all, my theories were essentially confirmed. All of the many combinations I had laid out (no pun intended. See? Still got it.) seemed to resonate with you.

But, and this is a big but, this didn’t answer my question of why.

And that question was answered yesterday. Yesterday, in an insightful conversation with a friend whom I just getting to know, things became elucidated.

She wrote, “I think that’s why people often stop talking about sex once they’re married – it’s something that becomes part of a private, shared experience between a couple and if one person talks about it in detail without the knowledge and consent of the other, then it’s akin to telling someone about your husband’s bathroom habits or his secret love of soap operas or something. Again, nothing about actual sex.”

She nailed it (No pun intended. I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself).

In my last post, I wrote:

“And then I got to thinking about marriage. And friendship. When we get married, we are not suddenly bubble people. We are the exact same people we were before we exchanged vows, but just committed to another person for life. So what happens that makes our single friends shun us when it comes to their desire to hear about our sex lives?

When I was dating my husband, I am sure I shared stories with my girlfriends, or asked questions, and that was fine. But nope, oh no, once the ring was on his finger, the idea of talking about my husband became repellent, like talking about one’s parents.”

I was implying that there was a negative connotation around this shift in behaviors; that single people did not want to hear about married people because it was somehow icky, and that married people did not want to share with single people because they feared making their single friend uncomfortable.

But, no. That’s not it. It is about intimacy.

A good friend and I were talking about the subject, and to protect her identity I am not going to say whether she is single or not, and she made the point that when one is single, a sexual encounter is a story; it is entertainment for others. On the other hand, for married couples, sex is implied, therefore not noteworthy, and that only other married people could understand that the notion of “it is just part of the package” is a fallacy.

I have some really smart friends and readers who have become friends.

So, there you have it. Our first foray into the world of sex.

And then, like most things do, this got me thinking.

I thought of my recent post entitled “You are not alone.” which is a nod to Into the Woods but also a very profound message; you may feel lonely sometimes; you may feel like the “other”; but you are not alone.

And in that post, and earlier in this very post, I referenced the many, many emails I get from you guys every day. I feel so blessed. For me, Mommy, Ever After has become a community, and a very strong one at that. But it just occurred to me that you (readers) don’t always get to benefit from it. Yes, I share as much as I can, as I am so inspired by what you share with me, but I am just one person with one perspective.

So I get these incredible messages from you in which you tell me that you can relate to my story or anxiety or problem or triumph and I get to have this amazing web of people with whom I can communicate so candidly.

And I will be honest; A lot of the emails I get are about feeling lonely.

But what about you?

I started this blog four and a half years ago because yes, I wanted to chronicle the life of my new baby, but I also wanted to tell other mothers, honestly, in a real way, that it is OK to feel sad and scared and frustrated and bored…AND enchanted. And Since the “Happy Story” turned into the “Hard Story”, my mission to help others became much stronger. That is my “Hopeful Story”. And so, I am trying to think of a way that you, my readers, can actually feel like you are a part of a community as well.

Do you know that over 60% of you live in the same geographic region? That means that you could meet for coffee or set up a play-date, if you were introduced.***

And the other 40% of readers from California to the Czech Republic to China can develop meaningful, special online relationships…but not if I do not connect you. So that is my next idea.

I have created what is called a “SECRET” Facebook Group. Not only is it a private group (which means that it is by invitation only and not visible to the rest of Facebook) but this group is so private that no one not in the group will be able to know of it’s existence. No one outside of the group can search for anything related to the group, nor could they ever see anything you post or comment on within the group. Let me make this extremely clear: no one outside of this incredibly private group will be able to see that you are a member. No one outside of the group will know that there is such a group. It is as secret as secret can be.

(That said, those of you who do accept will see each others’ postings, only on the group page, and really, isn’t that the point? If you are someone who joins this group, you are looking for community; so everyone who says “yes” to this for me (and I ask you to please, please say “yes”) can raise a hand. You are in this together. You are not alone. You can even join just to watch dialogues from afar, but from some of the emails that I got this week, I think we have a lot of great stuff coming our way…)

What I am trying to say is that I would love to build a community.

This is going to take guts, guys, but I am hopeful that instead of commenting on a post that I put on my personal page, which is then visible to thousands, you will feel comfortable in the privacy and security of Mommy, Ever After’s Private Community Page.

This is how it will work. If you have reached out to me previously, or if you are someone whom I think would be a positive addition to the group, I will invite you. You can choose whether or not you accept.

And then, you can have at it.

I will insist upon a strict set of guidelines (which are posted in the Group’s heading) but the basic idea is that this group is a vault. What happens in the group stays in the group.

Do you know how many of you wrote nearly identical messages to me this weekend about sex and marriage?

Do you know how many of you are looking for new, good friends?

No! You don’t! But you can!

I am hoping that this Facebook Group will allow you to

ask questions

seek advice

share tips

make a playdate

make a coffee date

make a wine date!

Remember, I am the administrator. No one can join the group without my approval. This means that if I do not know you, you aren’t getting in.

It’s like The Pink Ladies but wayyyy more exclusive.

So for everyone who wrote to me this week,

to everyone who has written to me over the past few months,

and the past several years,

take the leap.

While I don’t have a crystal ball, I can almost guarantee that it will make your life better.

We do have feathers on our side, after all.

*no one was quoted, nor was any conversation even referenced in the writing of this post without the individual’s express permission to do so.

**I use marriage here as a general term, the way I used “sex” as opposed to differentiating between “sex” and “gender” properly in my previous post. I do not wish to offend, nor alienate any individual or population. The group whom I refer to as “married” includes life partners, long-term relationships, etc. People who are committed and clearly not single.

***Always use caution and be careful when meeting a stranger from the internet. I will moderate strictly, but it is always a good thing to remember.

UPDATE: If you would like to be added to the group, please send me a message via Facebook or to Rebecca@mommyeverafter.com. I can invite only my personal Facebook friends, but I want to expand our community, and there are thousands of you who could benefit from this. Thank you!

The post We talked about sex. (Let’s talk some more.) appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

That said, this site is definitely not appropriate for children. I share some very personal details about mental illnesses and disorders that are very adult subjects.

And today, I wanted to write about sex. But, I hesitated. I was anxious about it. Would it be inappropriate? And I realized that what I am writing about is not anything explicit, nor is it even sexual. It’s more about being a human being, which is something that I write about often. One of my favorite parts of this site is the response that I am so fortunate to get from my readers to my writing; I hear, over and over again, “I can so relate to you”, so I figured I would broach this subject and see how it goes.

This all got started when I was talking to a single friend about a fun, recent date. I got to hear all about the conversations and the activities and some of the details. I am often regaled with these tales of chemistry (or lackthereof), excitement (or lackthereof), and sex (or…lackthereof).

And I realized something very interesting; If I were to respond to these emails in kind, sharing my own details and stories about sex, it would be weird. Or so I thought.

And so I asked this friend and it was confirmed. My friend agreed. It would be weird.

So I figured out how it works, and it is pretty interesting.

Here is what seems to be the formula

(and let me say that my incredibly sophisticated scientific research applies to my friends and the people I know who are generally open and trustworthy):

1. If you are single and you are talking to a single friend, you can talk about sex. Sometimes in great detail.

2. If you are single and you are talking to a married friend about sex, you can pretty much do the same. There is some slight deviation here if the friendship involves parties of the opposite sex*, one being married, the other single, but in general, this rule applies. (See. I am so scientific! I want to make a Power Point next!)

3. If you are married and talking to a single friend (particularly of the same sex) you do not talk about sex. At least not in the same way.  You don’t tell them stories or talk specifics, typically. You talk more generally, as in “It is important to feel sexually attracted to someone whom you are thinking about marrying.” Or, at most, “I am lucky that I still have a great sex life.” With someone of the opposite sex, it is completely situational.

4. If you are married and talking to a married member (of the same sex), you talk about sex exactly like the single person talks to the other single person about sex, but perhaps even more than you normally would. At least from my experience. You share details, you ask questions, you give tips, you give thumbs up and high fives.

5. If you are married and you are talking to a married member of the opposite sex, it’s a toss up. It totally depends on the relationship, and I don’t think that there is a hard and fast rule (no pun intended). I can only base things on my own experience within my own group of friends, but I know that there are certain male friends, husbands of my female friends, with whom I feel just as comfortable as my girls. I can talk about anything and everything with them, make dirty jokes and say things dripping with innuendo. You should hear some of the conversations we get into over our beloved Shabbat dinners.

However, (and this is something that I have learned) I would say, as a general rule, if you go to a party and are introduced to a couple, you should probably not go over to the corner with the husband and discuss anything sexual unless you are making conversation about a major event in the news or in popular culture, which would give it total relevance.

So, I just laid it all out there (no pun intended, again), and I wonder…why is it like this?

I have asked my husband about this before, in fact; how he talks to his best friend on his drive into work every morning and gets to hear the most colorful tales. “Did you tell him about us?” I will ask. 99% of the time the answer is “No”. That 1% is when there is an opportunity for him to throw in a joke (that isn’t really a joke) related to what they have been talking about.

And then I got to thinking about marriage. And friendship. When we get married, we are not suddenly bubble people. We are the exact same people we were before we exchanged vows, but just committed to another person for life. So what happens that makes our single friends shun us when it comes to their desire to hear about our sex lives?

When I was dating my husband, I am sure I shared stories with my girlfriends, or asked questions, and that was fine. But nope, oh no, once the ring was on his finger, the idea of talking about my husband became repellent, like talking about one’s parents.

(By the way, my parents and grandparents read this blog, so Mom, Dad, Mommom and Poppop: this does NOT give you the freedom to talk about sex with me. That is never going to be OK.)

So I am curious, single peeps, married peeps, people who have been both single and then married, or married and then single: Talk to me. Talk to me about sex.

Because I write this blog to make peoples’ lives better, and I think that answering these questions will help relationships, whether they are friendships, romantic relationships or even interactions with acquaintances.

So here is where you come in (I am not even going to say it): Tell me what you think about what I have just written. If I was brave enough to just write about sex to thousands of people, you can share your opinions with me. You can do so by commenting under the Facebook post with this link on my personal page, or the Mommy, Ever After Facebook page, you can send me a private message on Facebook or at Rebecca@mommyeverafter.com, or you can start your own dialogue, and share with me what you come up with. I can’t wait to find out.

*I am aware of and completely acknowledge the difference between sex and gender, however, for the purposes of this post, I went with the commonly accepted expression that “Sex” means either “Male” or “Female”; This in no way reflects my own personal beliefs on the issue of gender identity or equality.

The post A Post About Sex. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Then, my parents took  my daughter to see her new favorite movie, I picked up the cake for my husband’s birthday tomorrow (more on that later; he actually reads this blog so I don’t want to spoil the surprise) and I awkwardly told the girl behind the counter of the bake shop, “Ok, bye, love you!” I apologized and we laughed.

We had some things to pick up and I had a few gifts to purchase so we went to a store, despite the absolutely torrential rainstorm outside.

As I walked into the store, I saw something from afar that I thought might work for a gift, but as I got closer, I lost my breath.

Now, see below, at what I had written not 4 hours before.

And not only did I write it, but I had included a footnote about to whom I should attribute this quote, as there is great controversy over it’s origin and author.

Sometimes you just can’t explain things; The universe sends you messages and you choose whether you want to believe in them or not.

I believe.

***

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

My hands are running back and forth across the keyboard. I know what I want to say, I am just not sure how to properly convey the message so that it is as clear as I desire for it to be.

This quote is one of many that resonates with me, and I am fortunate enough that I have some very special girlfriends with whom I trade inspirational quotes, poems and photos via text, almost daily.

I write on this site all about my own struggles. My physical and mental issues. My battles.

But there is something that you may not know.

Every single day I receive several private messages that are written differently, but that have the same underlying theme, and that is this: “I wasn’t sure if I should write to you, but I feel like we are so similar in so many ways and I can relate and connect to you and your anxieties and struggles.”

Ever single day. And every single one of these messages means an incredible amount to me. I can’t even begin to convey how much they mean to me; every time I read a new note, I share with my husband how touched I am (I do not share the notes, nor anything about the senders or content) but just that I had a dialogue that was very special. So to those of you who have been brave enough to type these notes, thank you. And to those of you who are still on the fence as to whether or not you should reach out to me,

I implore you to please write.

Because you are not alone.

It is amazing how we as humans (and I would say particularly mothers, but I am not at all trying to stereotype or marginalize) are so hard on ourselves. I remember one of the quotes that I sent to a friend, and it was something like “Imagine if we spent the whole day obsessing about the things we liked about ourselves.”

Now anxiety, like most things, has a spectrum, and there are some people who have very little. But really, most people I know feel it, feel it palpably, and it causes a deep feeling of loneliness.

I used this example before in my writing as a hypothetical, but I want to tell you about something very personal to me. Out of respect for others and to keep things as confidential as possible, I am going to be vague about the context, but I was in a group recently in which I raised my hand, frustrated. I expressed my feelings and insecurities. I shared how lonely it felt to feel different.

The facilitator of this group repeated my sentiments to the rest of the room, where there were at least 20 people present, and asked if anyone could relate to my feelings of insecurity, “different-ness”, and loneliness.

Every single hand went up.

Every single hand.

I was shocked.

In my eyes and from my perspective, the things that I was sharing were clearly not applicable to anyone else in the room. But they felt them, too, just as acutely.

That is when I realized, I am not alone.

And why I say

you are not alone.

I have held my nose and jumped in to the deep end of the pool, so to speak (a metaphor my doctor uses) when it comes to being open and honest about my own mental health issues. I share more than most people. But I realize that sharing things–admitting to these vulnerabilities–is terrifying.

But, while I can’t make a 100% guarantee, I strongly, strongly believe that if you share how you are feeling, you will end up feeling better.

Not only will you have said it–the thing that is so hard to say–but you will have said it to someone who can empathize.

You can take it off of you. You don’t have to carry it anymore.

And, at the very least, you can know that by writing, you will have touched another person’s heart.

I so wish that we, as a culture, were more sympathetic to one another. We rally behind so many causes (which is fantastic), but we don’t really take the time to acknowledge the seriousness of our mental health issues.

So if you can take away anything from this post it is this:

The way you feel–that way that you are sure that no one in the world can possibly relate to–is something that so so so so so many of us feel. Sharing those feelings takes bravery, and if you want to start by sharing with me, I can assure you that you will find empathetic ears and a caring heart. You can always Facebook message me or email me at Rebecca@mommyeverafter.com. Again, everything you say remains between us. I am your vault.

But, most of all, I want you to remember this one salient point:

You are not alone.

Just a reminder: I can offer friendship and support, but I am not a medical professional. Please consult with your doctor if you are having a really hard time struggling with your emotions or, simply go to the nearest Emergency Room.

The post You are not alone. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.