Sanity = good girl friends

I have found over the years that my mental health is directly proportionate to my good girl friend quotient or GGF. I love my husband and I literally tell him everything but this can not replace the GGF. I am not talking about a quantity thing; this is not about "lots of friends". This is a quality thing. In fact, if a woman has one real GGF in her life than I consider them a lucky person.

How does it happen? Organically. So many adult relationships seem to be comprised of adjacency; kids around the same age, living nearby, commute or working together, hobbies and interests in common. Our lives are busy; it all has to make sense. GGFs are no different.

I remember I was freshly pregnant with Shea, just a couple of months, barely showing but feeling sick and excited. I decided I had to start walking and getting some exercise. One of the downsides of my beautiful little island that I am lucky enough to live on is I do a lot of driving. Long gone are those days of walking to the grocery store and to do neighborhood errands. That went away when we left the big city and came to our little rural oasis.

The long and the short; I was really getting out of shape. And, now I was pregnant at 39 to top it all off. That frightening reality got me out the door and I started walking in the morning after I dropped my daughter off at Kindergarten. I walked alone for a month or two; spontaneously ran into another mom here and there but didn't really have a walking buddy.

I remember I was hanging out waiting to pick up Molly and a woman said to me, "I see you out there walking. Good for you." I sincerely asked her if she would like to join me. As luck would have it, she was quitting her job to be around more for her Kindergartner who happened to be in Molly's class. We commented on the obvious adorableness on each others children and she took me up on that walk.

We walked every morning all through my pregnancy. And, you know, that exercise did help to get the old body back even after a C-section.

5 years later, we still walk almost everyday. But let me be clear; this is not just exercise. This is therapy. This is a bull session, coffee clatch, stitch and bitch all rolled into one. This is about girl time to kvetch, whine, ask advise, get pats on the back. This is sanity, pure and simple. I miss it physically and mentally when we don't walk. And, as our endurance has increased, we puff and moan less as we climb hills; an honest to goodness friendship has grown.

We were lucky, our politics and and interests coincided nicely. Of similar age, going though many of the same things; we filled the walks with stories and comparisons, sagas and tributes. I respected her mind, accomplishments and perspective. Let's just state it simply; it was a good fit and now I can't imagine her not part of my life.

Time goes on; even more quickly now. Our kindergartners are in 5th grade now, getting ready for middle-school (gulp). Yet we have no problem filling our walk time with plenty of new comment and conjecture. And, yes; we ask others to join us. We try to share this little piece of magic we have developed together.

So, hats of to the GGF! What would we do without them? If you are lacking, then cast about, she is out there; waiting for you to extend a hand. You never know who will become indispensable in your life.

Mommy guilt or battling the many headed Hydra

"I wonder if my egg was too old?" I remember actually saying this several times and thinking it many. How could anyone not be just a little bit horrified to hear a mother say that. Oh, they were, I am sure of it.

Mommy guilt is a natural part of motherhood. I say motherhood because I don't think fathers bludgeon themselves to the extent that mothers do. Maybe I am wrong but it always seems fathers are just a bit more pragmatic about parenting.

I would describe it as tap dancing through a mine field. When you least expect it; Pow! I wonder if I breast fed long enough? Pow! Maybe I didn't sing to him enough as an infant? Pow! Is he getting enough; food, time, therapy? Pow! It's a no-win war with your own worst enemy and there is no winner in sight.

I think that if your child has special issues, you tend to beat yourself up even more. Maybe it's because it's really one of the only things you can do. Not being able to "make your kid ok" is the hardest, most vulnerable feeling in the world. Being out of control, not being in charge is excruciating for many of us. At least with mommy guilt, we apply the pressure ourselves even if it can be unfairly placed, anxiety provoking and many times irrational.

I feel guilty about Shea all the time. As I try to give voice to the worry it seems flimsy and unsubstantial. Yet, when I wake up in the middle of the night unable to sleep, the guilt is black, deep and amorphous as storm clouds. During the day, guilt is an annoying mosquito; never far from my ear yet easier to ignore as you go about the tasks and duties of life.

I am from the generation that felt like we could have it all. The first generation of girls who grew up with Woman's Lib as a done deal. We didn't have to burn our bras or do epic battle with the status quo but we saw our mothers, teachers, aunts and heroes do it. They did it so we didn't have to, right? Tail end of the boomers; we knew we could have careers, interests, lovers, a full rich life before we settled down to motherhood. Oh, and we did; those were the days my friend. We were the ones that put off babies until later and later in life. Look at me; Molly came when I was 34, Shea when I was 39. We didn't think anything about it. It wasn't odd; in fact it was considered modern, wise, the smart way to do it.

And, yes, there is some wisdom to this. Older parents tend to be more relaxed, financially and emotionally stable. But, there are down sides, of course. And, maybe this is where the guilt comes back into it.

There is something a little wacky about having children during the classic mid-life crisis years. What we we thinking? Or having them so near Menopause. Again, what were we thinking? Then there is just the physical demands. Parenthood is exhausting; even more so if you have some years under your belt. Yes, we are more emotionally stable but maybe we are too thoughtful at times, too circumspect after seeing all we have seen. Dare I say too controlling, set in our ways? Plus, there is the reality of time. I will probably be an old, old lady (if I am lucky enough to still be around) by the time Molly and Shea have children. I probably won't have the luxury of being the spry, springy Grandma like my mom.

So, unfortunately I don't have a silver bullet for this particular beast. I sure wish I did; I would make a fortune. What to do? Get some exercise so that sleep comes easier. Cultivate a small select garden of good girlfriends who will listen and bring you back down to earth. Listen to your husband when he says, "Don't worry, honey." Love your kids, try to be a little kinder to yourself and count your blessings.