Category Archives: Child Rearing

Plea to My People

**This is an edited version of the post I added to a Facebook group I lovingly dubbed “The Village Fountain”.**

Dear Villagers,

I need your help.

Yesterday, I accepted a job offer to become the Communications Specialist for the Diocese.  I will be working on their newsletter, subscriptions, website, web presence, and parish websites.  This job is basically my dream job; I say “basically” because I’ll be working for a non-profit, which means I won’t be making $2 million a year doing it.

As my new boss said, my skill set is vast and my education is impressive.  I also know that I am stubborn and prideful.  But beyond these things, I am intelligent.  I am smart enough to know when to shelve my pride and stubbornness to ask for help.  None of us were meant to go through life alone, so I am reaching out to each of you for assistance.

Taking this position means that I “switch” with the BHE:  he will stay home with the kids, work on the houses, start projects at the farm, and take Angel to preschool in the Fall.  We keep talking about how we can’t make it a 100% switch since our skills are different and our work around the properties is so different.  This is where you come in!  We would like to have someone watch the children on Tuesdays and Thursdays, starting April 18th, and lasting until we sell both in town properties (goal:  by the end of 2018).

We would prefer that someone we know take care of Angel and Rover in our home or, if they have children of similar ages, in their home.  We will pay, of course, but may need some flexibility on pay being cash or work.  The BHE is very handy and I’ll totally do someone else’s laundry without issue.

Would you or anyone you know be interested in helping us a day or two a week?  Think on it, ask around, and get back to me, please.  I know the power of networking and the power of prayer, so I am confident that among us, we can come up with a solution.  I’m so excited about this job, but I know we need the help of our village to raise our children.

Much love and peace to each of you!

Remember: Not one of us was meant to travel the paths of life alone. 

The 5 Best Pieces of Parenting Advice I Can Give

My last blog post was a couple months ago and on the negative side.  This will be my first blog post of the New Year; I’m going to write something positive.

In the last post, I listed off the 5 Worst Pieces of Parenting Advice I have ever received.  Now I’m going to share with you the 5 Best Pieces of Parenting Advice that I have received as well as what I’ve discovered along the way.

Take these with a grain of salt.  Or as gospel.  This whole parenting thing is different for all of us.  So here goes…

#1.  There is no such thing as the “right time” when it comes to having kids.

The BHE and I were asked when we were going to start our family before we were even married.  I know, I know: this is an acceptable thing in our society.  But for us it was not part of the plan.  We had a Grand Master Plan.  We had our goals and our priorities and we just knew when the right time would be for us to get pregnant.

Oh, boy.

First off, folks, I can tell you from experience that just because you decided you wanted to get pregnant/have a child by such-n-such a date DOES NOT MEAN your bodies will cooperate.  Seriously.  This is out of your hands.

We tried for a couple years after deciding it was the “right time” and my heart broke month after month.  We have friends who tried for much longer, some without any success, and others with the kind of success that led to great loss.

There isn’t a “perfect” time to have children.  Your house, your career, your finances, your car, your whatever will never be perfectly aligned in reality the way you think you want them to be before you have children.


Just a few weeks before the Angel was born, here I am working in the empty nursery, painted yet not ready for a baby!

If you know you want kids, take comfort in knowing that no matter when or how they come, you’ll handle it like a champ.  No matter if your car isn’t a brand-new minivan or if the nursery never got a fresh coat of paint or you’re still at that job you hate.  Parenthood is a whole new ballgame; roll with it.

#2.  But it is all about the timing.

No, seriously, watch the clock and the calendar.  Timing is everything.

During pregnancy, you’ll be seeing an OB or midwife monthly then weekly.  You’ll be asked about when you had your last period, when you last peed, when you first felt movement, what frequency you felt movement, and on and on.

During labor, you’ll be timing contractions and counting breaths.  Make sure there is a clock in the room where you deliver your baby.  The wall clock in the delivery room during the birth of my son was broken, so I had no idea what time of day or night it was, no concept of how long I had truly been going at it, no idea until after the fact that I had been laboring for 29 ½ hours with over 3 hours of pushing.  No idea.  None.


During early infancy, you’ll be tracking the times spent feeding, how many ounces or minutes, when was the last bowel movement, and more.

During the early days of solid foods, you will have to count the ounces as well as days since you introduced a new food.  And you’ll be counting more dirty diapers.

During toddlerhood, you will need to watch the clock to keep track of when your tot got out of bed, when was breakfast, how soon is snack, when you need to feed them lunch so you can get them into a timely nap, how long was the nap, how long after the nap until bedtime, how long between dinner and bedtime…

And you think I’m kidding.  I’m not.  Watch the clock.  It is the best way to avoid meltdowns induced by lack of food or sleep.  Because, really, the wee beasties need copious amount of both if you expect them to be angels.

A schedule helps them as well as you.  There’s advice all over the place, from your pediatrician to this lifestyle blog, about how children need a regimen to maintain equilibrium and how parents need their children to have a regimen to maintain sanity.

#3.  When in doubt, present food.

If your child is crying, check for these things:

  • Is he/she hurt?
  • Is the diaper dirty?
  • Is he/she tired?
  • Is he/she hungry?

If your darling angel isn’t hurt, has a dry diaper, just woke from a nap, and just ate, feed him or her again.  For real.  Present more food or another bottle or your breast.  Feed them.

My son cried way more than my daughter did during his first year.  It feels like he was constantly wailing about something.  He also was the size of a two year old at his 9 month check-up.  He’s a beast.  What I didn’t understand in the first 6 months or so was that he was screaming like he was hungry even when he just ate because he was already hungry again.  He never wanted to stop eating.


Now that he’s one, my son wants a snack cup in his hand as soon as he exits his high chair after breakfast.  For real.  Feed him.  And then feed him again.  When all else fails, feed him.

#4.  Have a canned response that you have practiced delivering without emotion to anyone who dispenses unsolicited advice.

I learned this one from a good friend who chose a very non-traditional route for becoming a mother.  We had a lunch date where I asked her the questions I felt she would receive throughout her child’s life; she told me she had a response ready to cover most of them.  For the ones she wasn’t prepared for, she just wouldn’t answer.

Boom.  Done.  Response is ready, no matter the circumstance.

So I thought this should apply to all new parents.  We all know we will hear things in our lives that upset us or irk us or get under our skin and fester.  What better way to save yourself some strife than to have a reply ready!  It doesn’t have to be snarky; in fact, it shouldn’t be.  It should be an unemotional, canned response.

Try this:  That’s interesting.  Thanks for sharing.

Or:  Great!  I bet that works for a lot of people.

Even:  You are very considerate to share that with me.

I highly suggest avoiding anything that is open-ended or could lead to further discussion.  Unless you really, really want to know/be upset/upset the other person.  Just have a one-liner ready to roll out and then walk away or change the subject.

There are a million other topics you can get into an argument about.  Try politics.  Or religion.  Walk away from parenting advice that makes you shudder.

#5:  You need a village.  If you don’t have one, start building one.

I cannot stress enough how important it is to have a network of people you trust and can count on for anything in your parenting adventure.  You will need a shoulder to cry on, someone to watch the kids in an emergency, a person you can count on to come over with wine but without judgement, a mother-figure for you, grandparent figures for your kids, someone whose advice you can count on, other mothers and fathers at the same stage of parenting, other mothers and fathers further along or even further behind… you need people who get you as well as get this whole parenting gig.

I don’t feel like I had a village for most of these first years of my journey as a mother.  Too many people have come and gone, for one.  Also, I live in the middle of nowhere, a good hour from any member of my family, more than a half hour from most of my friends and former coworkers, forty-odd minutes from any major place for groceries or shopping… seriously, if it weren’t for two libraries within twenty minutes of us, my weeks would crawl by.  I have church on Sundays and three story times a week to look forward to.

People need a community in which to thrive.  We cannot go it alone.  Life isn’t designed that way.  We are commune creatures, to a point.  If you want to fight off baby blues or the more sinister postpartum depression, keep your dears very near.

My advice here, to tag onto this most important piece, is to start with the free things and go from there.  Your family and friends, right now, are free.  Call them, invite them over, make plans, whatever:  keep them in the loop and keep them close.  Then look up other free things to make new friends, to meet other parents, to be around those with kids the same ages as yours; try local libraries and parks, your church, a zoo, a mall playground.  Go to places you would normally go, though, instead of forcing yourself into awkward situations that may repel you from great people.  Someday I’ll write a post about being the odd one out at a mommy group full of women who could not believe I had driven almost 3 hours to be present.

Having children will isolate you from people you never expected to lose.  It will also introduce you to people you once never noticed or maybe even looked sideways at.  Be open-minded and recognize that it takes a village not just to raise a child but to support the parents.  We are human; we are not meant to go it alone.

Parenthood is amazing and eye-opening. Your heart will be full to bursting with love and pride.  Parenthood is really freaking hard.  Your body will be drained, your eyes will be burning, you will lose your mind from time to time, and you will need support.  It can be so isolating and exhausting as well as exhilarating and network-building, what with all the story times and preschool functions.

A village gift

You really do need a village.

Won’t you be part of mine?

The 5 Worst Pieces of Parenting Advice I’ve Received

I have read a couple different blog posts recently about good and bad parenting advice.  Coupled with knowing a handful of lovely ladies with newborns or expecting, I decided to share some of the gems I have received over the past couple years.  It is hard to call it well-meaning advice when it sounds mean… or just plain stupid.


“You shouldn’t cloth diaper because you’ll never know when the diaper is wet.”


The Angel, 2 weeks old, rocking a cloth nappy and matching socks

When I asked for an explanation, she said that only disposable diapers have that blue line to let me know when the baby has peed.  She insisted I would be harming my child with cloth diapers because of the higher likelihood of diaper rash.

Don’t worry; I hear the argument that just ran through your head.  Almost every time I use a disposable diaper that doesn’t have a blue line, I shake my head as I replay her words in my mind.

See, not everything said to a new parent is good or bad or misleading.  Sometimes, it is downright ridiculous.  This gem is my go-to bit of “advice” when I’m illustrating to other new parents how they’ll be inundated with well-meaning people and ought to come up with a canned response to their so-called wisdom.


“You carry your baby so much that she won’t learn how to walk.  She is too big for that baby carrier anyway.”

The baby carrier in question was designed for babies weighing between 8 and 25 pounds, and the baby being discussed weighed about 10 pounds at the time.

I love baby carriers.  I have a couple of them.  There are different designs for different activities, for all sizes and shapes, and you can easily find support groups or meet-and-swap groups on Facebook.

Also, I love holding my kids.  I wish I could always carry them always.  I like having them on me, I like hugging them, I like smelling them, I like feeling their weight in my arms, and I wish I could have them with me always.  Ok, not always:  the Angel recently grasped the concept of “privacy” and now revels in the chance to stand outside the bathroom door while I’m using the toilet and tell her little brother to leave me alone.

Our struggles to conceive, the joy I had about these new lives while they were in my womb, and the drastically different ways my children came into the world are all the more reasons why I want to hold them.  After everything, I don’t need someone telling me to put my babies down.

Believe me, they will learn to walk.  The Handsome Boy was walking independently and extensively before 10 months, and the Angel took her first steps the day before her first birthday party.


“You should hold your infant over the toilet right after she eats, starting around 6 months.  This will potty-train her by 12 months.”


She figured it out and he will someday, too.

I cannot imagine how on earth a child who cannot walk could be potty-trained that early.  Not to mention Science Says the brain and body aren’t wired that early for that sort of knowledge.  Suspending an infant over that “swirling vortex of terror” just sounds like a terrible idea.

Kids do as they want, really, when it comes to potty training.  My experience says that while you can guide your child, she will figure it out before it actually becomes a priority for her.  Then it will be no big deal.

No matter how early or how quickly your tot learns to use the toilet, you’ll still be wiping butts for some time afterwards.

And just because the Angel proudly uses her potty Every Single Time today, including wiping herself and washing her hands, does not mean that tomorrow she won’t leak a bit in her panties or throw a fit when you outrageously demand she wipe herself.


“You should take a switch to her.  She’ll mind you then.”

Wow.  Seriously?  You want me to not just physically reprimand my daughter, not give her a quick spank on her bum, but actually whip her….

I think I’m going to be ill.

Granted, the individual who suggested this was a much older man who had never raised children.  Sadly, his generation was whipped (not using a colloquialism here, folks, but was actually whipped with a thin reed of a stick that could leave vicious welts or even split skin).  He was just spouting what he knew, from 7 or 8 decades earlier.

People, don’t ever suggest someone lay a hand on their child.  If a parent so believes that physical punishment is part of disciplining a child, let’s all hope they keep that to themselves.  It has become taboo to discuss spanking.  We talk about it behind closed doors with close friends and family.  Even then, we know we are subject to criticism no matter which way we say is best or worst.

I am not perfect, I do not always adhere to the guidelines of Positive Discipline, and I have lost my shit a time or two.  No matter how you feel about reprimanding, punishing, disciplining, or the like, I think we can all agree that a switch is just out of the question.


“Because he’s so big,” she says while holding my 9-month-sized 4 month old, “you should tell people he’s a developmentally disabled 9 month old instead of an overweight 6 month old.”



You mean to tell me it is better to lie that he is older but behind in cognitive and motor skills development than it is to have a complete stranger possibly judge me for him being fat?

Challenged is better than fat?!? 

That’s what you’re saying?

Dear me, that is what you’re saying.

He isn’t challenged any more than he is fat.  He is a big baby who actually is ahead of all the mile-markers. But that isn’t what upsets me about this.

It is that you would dare not only to THINK this about a child BUT TO SAY IT TO HIS MOTHER!!


Like, I said, folks:  there are some people who cannot grasp the fact that what they believe is well-meant advice is actually just mean.  Wrong.  Unacceptable.  Or stupid.

If you can’t say something nice (or constructive), don’t say anything at all.  Do not assume you can parent other parents.  I may be new at this, but I really don’t need random advice.  I will come to you if I need some guidance.  Otherwise, everyone, butt out.

Believe me, even after more than 3 years as a stay-at-home mom, I feel there are days where I am still a newbie, still learning the ropes, still bungling through.  I also have the days where I feel like I should have a cape and tights because I’m such a bad-ass mother.

What’s the worst that has been said to you?

Saturday Morning Cartoon Faces

Really, the most important thing to a toddler’s well-being is the attention of her parents.


We have a television, the appliance.  We do not have tv, the medium.  We don’t watch tv.  We don’t really have time for it.

The Angel was around 2 years old the first time we turned the television on FOR HER.  Sure, we had parked ourselves on the couch to watch a movie (we have a DVD/VCR combo) while she was in the room.  But she didn’t have time to sit and watch it with us.  You know how BUSY a 2 year old is!

Now, we pick up different movies from the library (FREE!) or watch the handful of kids’ movies that we own.  There’s at least an hour of television time each day in our house.  Part of me cringes but part of me challenges you to judge me.  Like, seriously, I need a break, too!

We don’t have access to the crap that is on tv these days.  We also don’t HAVE to watch commercials.  We have much more control over what is shown on our television.

Not complete control, mind you, because the Angel really likes Signing Time (the BHE can’t stand it but even I have learned some ASL) and Strawberry Shortcake (I can sing the theme song, and I do… All. Day. Long.)

Having Fun

But, really, the Angel wants me to be present.  It isn’t enough to turn on a cartoon for her.  She wants me to sit with her.  Or dance, if Strawberry gets her guitar out.

She likes to share the experience with me.  Most of the time, I do fold laundry on the couch or leave to wash dishes.  Saturday mornings, though, should be sacred for cartoon watching.

Without further ado, I will share with you how I make it through Max and Ruby, the four-thousandth screening of Shrek 2 (“The Kitty Movie”), and Baby Signing Time.


Really, I don’t mind watching Finding Nemo or The Little Mermaid again and again.  And I would prefer if she would always request a Harry Potter or Narnia. The selfie setting is a lot of help, though, when I have to suffer through “The Bear Movie” (Open Season 2) or “The Fox Movie” (The Fox and the Hound).

Internal Balloons

Sometimes, I get carried away explaining things to my daughter.  Maybe it is because I’m such a nerd, or maybe it is because she is so intelligent and mature for her age.  Either way, sometimes trying to clarify the way the world or our bodies work turns to smite me.

Mealtime Conversations

Finishing lunch the other day, I was clearing the table and reminded the Angel she needed to wash her hands in the bathroom.  Her argument, per usual, was that she didn’t need to pee.  I explained that the bathroom serves many purposes, like peeing when your bladder is full or washing your hands when they are dirty.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said “bladder” because that set off a conversation I’ll never forget.

I explained that a bladder is like a balloon that fills with pee.  When it gets full of pee, like a balloon, it could burst, which is why we get the feeling that we need to go to the bathroom to use the potty.

This explanation was met with disbelief.

Carried Away

I then proceeded to describe all internal organs as some sort of balloon filling with different things:  lungs pull in and push out air, the stomach collects food and expels it towards the bladder and bowels, and the bowels are like a balloon for poop.

She had to stop me there.  I had, so far, gotten looks that became increasingly unimpressed and disbelieving.  She thought I was making it up!

I said I could show her pictures of “internal organs” to prove that our “anatomy” is really a bunch of balloons.

Not So Much

Using the Google search bar app on my smartphone, I requested images of our anatomy that were presented as coloring pages.  I showed the results to the Angel, getting excited about explaining things to her.

Her face, if anything, went from disbelieving to complete disgust.

I thought she was grossed out to learn about all these “balloons” inside of our bodies.  Instead, she was disgusted with me for not producing what I promised.

“Mommy, where the poop?  I want pictures of poop balloons.”

Since I couldn’t produce such a thing, she rolled her eyes and left the room.

She’s only 3.

Quiet Morning Tea

My three-year-old isn’t understanding the concept of waiting until dawn to get out of bed.

My Struggle

I’ve never liked getting out of bed early.  I slept up to 18 hours straight most weekends in my teens and twenties.  My mother used to tell me she’d wake me a lot as an infant because I slept so soundly for so long that she would worry.  My dream job doesn’t start until 10 or 11 am.  If I could sleep 12 uninterrupted hours a day, I would.

For the longest time, the Angel would sleep 12 uninterrupted hours each night.

It was glorious.

I was stupid enough to brag about it.

All the changes our family has seen in the last year (birth of the Handsome Boy, renovating a couple rooms, family drama, toilet training, moving the Angel out of her crib, family drama, and such) has led to a change in everyone’s sleep patterns.

Now, the Angel gets up whenever she thinks she is done sleeping, whether that be at an accommodating 7:13 am or the hellacious time of 5:50 am.

I don’t function well without the sun being fully bright in the sky.

Tea Party

What we did for a bit was this:

The BHE would rise very early for work.  The Handsome Rover would wake and I’d bring him to bed to snuggle with me. Shortly after, the Angel would come in and join the snuggling.

With requests for water.  And turning on lights.  And watching YouTube on my phone.  And getting a popsicle.  Now.



If you’re going to demand a popsicle, go ahead and insist it matches your shirt.


So I’d be cranky, rushing through dressing myself and the kids, before rushing us down the stairs to give her a popsicle for some quiet while I threw together a breakfast that the boy was screaming for (because if a tired infant isn’t getting the sleep he needs, you best be feeding him).  Somewhere in all of that, I’d probably blow a fuse or two and eventually use what the Angel calls my “angry words.”

Then things started changing even more and for the worse in her little world.  Her grandfather became grievously injured after falling off a ladder (he’s recovering well and should be leaving the rehab facility in another week).  This meant that her daddy was gone a lot, driving to the city over an hour away to visit and talk to nurses, missing dinner, going more than 48 hours without seeing her, being stressed and needing to have “important talks” with mommy instead of her, and not being the daddy she was used to having.

This was such an upset to her little world!  I didn’t see it at first, but her incessant requests for more of this and that, especially my full attention, were a direct result of her brain telling her she needed to latch onto me so she wouldn’t lose both parents.  Her mind couldn’t see the temporary situation for what it was.  Her mind didn’t want her to lose any more.

But it made me lose my mind!  I couldn’t readjust to her new demands, just assumed she was going through some new phase that was a pain in my ass.


Check out that bedhead and how well she’s expressing she doesn’t want her picture taken.

The morning she asked to have a tea party with me, and just me, sorta rang a small bell in my head.  I got the boy back into his crib, where he slept for an extra 30 minutes, and crept downstairs to make a pot of tea.  Sipping the tepid green tea with too much sugar because I let the Angel doctor it, I was given a bleary-eyed glimpse of what my darling daughter needed.

Morning Ritual

There can be a lot said about routines and rituals in the lives of developing persons.  Here, though, I will say that my daughter needed uninterrupted time with at least one of her parents in order to feel comfortable going through her day.  We had to develop a new routine, create our own morning ritual.

Too much upheaval was causing the worst behavior I’ve seen in her.  And it was pulling the worst behavior out of me in response.

Until the small bell turned into a clanging gong.

I’m trying, folks, I am.  Parenting is hard.  I’m giving it all I got, though.


Tea party in the library means books must be included.

What we do now is this:

The BHE rises very early for work.  When the boy wakes, I snuggle and nurse him then put his sleeping body back in the crib.  I doze until the Angel wakes and comes into our room.  Then I whisk her downstairs as quietly as possible so we can make and sip our tea, uninterrupted, just the two of us.  When the Handsome Rover wakes for the day, she helps me clean up our little tea set and we both climb the stairs to start the old routine.

Well, minus the blown fuses and angry words.

I Never Asked for Her Number

Making friends as an adult is hard work.  Unless you share a common past like school, a common interest like a club you attend regularly, or a common place of employment, it is really hard to build a friendship from the ground up.

Add in constant distractions like little people, it is no wonder so many SAHMs write blog posts about feeling lonely and isolated.

The Shift

I have been making bigger steps to get out of the house.  It used to be that I considered myself a homebody, content to be a bum in my house unless I had to be somewhere like work or church.  Then came the Angel and BAM I was alone.

A lot.

With my thoughts and a newborn, things got a little whacky in my head.

At first, I had my schoolwork to keep me occupied.  And phone calls to friends and family and even the place I used to work, keeping my finger on the pulses of those I cared about.  Slowly but surely, though, as my Mommying consumed my time, my friendships dwindled.

There was this shift in my priorities that made it so difficult to hold onto the friendships that used to be at the top but had, understandably, dropped out of the top 10.  No one is to blame, really:  my single friends with no kids or older friends whose kids were in high school or further along weren’t able to jive with my newfound definition.  I went from being the sarcastic, drinking partier to the sarcastic, sober, unable-to-stop-talking-about-my-child, attached mother.

Story Time

To get more socialization for myself and the kids, I’ve been dragging us to every library event for kids in the area.  I figure it is as good of a place as any to meet other SAHPs.  Think about it:  our kids must be about the same age, we must live within the same geographical area, they must be around my age with a similar schedule, and so on.

Unless, of course, they already have their set of friends are really are just going to story time to get out of the house.


Just us and the librarian… again.

We have been going to three story times a week, and it really is hit or miss.  Some days, we are the only three attending the event.  Those days, I sit with the Angel on my lap, trying to keep her focused on the book or song or activity while the Handsome Rover either climbs all over the librarian or wanders out of site to knock over chairs.  Really, not ideal.  Some days, there are over a dozen other kids and at least 10 adults.  Those are the best for the Angel, since she doesn’t cling to me but gets to play with other children her age.

I thought it would be great for me, too, since I could mingle with other moms and dads.  But we live in a rural county with small communities full of people who have known each other most of their lives.  Or know someone who knows them.

The Golden Mommy

At the library where we typically are the only attendees, there once was a mother with three children.  Her oldest was just a little older than the Angel, the middle was just a little younger, and the baby was a few months younger than my Handsome Boy.

But she, the mom, this other SAHM, was practically crafted to be my friend.  She was Golden.

We liked the same books.  We did the same activities at home with our kids.  We shared our birth stories, even the nasty details, only to be excited to have similar experiences with the same midwives.  I don’t know who brought it up first but, yes, we are both Gryffindor.  Oh!  And we live within minutes of each other, closer than the library!

She was the Golden Mommy.

We talked for a good hour after story time ended, letting our kids play together and be social without our interference.  We bonded and were both smiling brightly when it became clear it was time to go.  It was time to usher our sweet children who were now hungry and tired and no longer so sweet out to our cars.  We said our goodbyes and promised to see each other at the next story time.

That was the last time I saw her.

The Phone Number

I’m a 33-year-old happily married mother of 2.  I grew up in a suburb, went to a community college in Florida, ended up graduating from Purdue, had a hell of a streak of partying and clubbing years, and really enjoy reading.

In all of my life, I have never had to ask another for their number.  Any guy that I was interested in was interested back and would ask for my number.  More guys than I was interested in would ask!

All my girlfriends were from school, from work, or from our reenacting group.  These were people I had plenty of opportunities to get to know, to feel out, to have lunch with or camp with, long before I’d have to take the plunge to get contact information.  And usually, that information came into my possession organically.  I didn’t have to ask.

I’ve never had to ask for someone’s number!!

When I told the BHE all about the Golden Mommy, my voice and hand gestures showing my excitement, he asked me if I got her number.  All the excitement whooshed out of me like a blown up balloon let go before it was tied.

Well, no.  No, I didn’t get her number.  I’VE NEVER HAD TO ASK SOMEONE BEFORE.

So now I’m going to see if I can stalk her on Facebook.