A FOF friend who chose not to have children adores her niece and treats her like a daughter.  She even planned and paid for her niece’s wedding.

Another FOF says she’s “grateful for not having kids.”

A third is completely involved with her adult children’s lives; it seems like she defines herself by their successes and happiness.

And a forth leads her own life and lets her kids lead theirs. She loves them and wants them to be happy but she doesn’t get caught up in their every move.

FOF women make all kinds of mothers—or not. We may be our mothers’ daughters, but many of us took dramatically different roads than our moms when it came to our own children.

It’s not a cakewalk being a mother, and motherhood isn’t for every woman.  No matter what decisions we made yesterday, or what decisions our daughters make today and tomorrow about their kids, all we can do is try our best….

…Just as long as Joan Crawford isn’t our idol

The Clinton Girls

When Hillary Clinton was in Vietnam during the last few days, an artist there presented her with a jewel-encrusted portrait of her with daughter Chelsea. The piece was modeled after a photo of them taken when they were in Vietnam together in 2000. The gift was in honor of Chelsea’s upcoming nuptials to her longtime boyfriend at the end of the month.

I have no idea if I’m correct, but I would bet Hillary and Chelsea are friends. I’d guess they confide in each other, have fun together and respect each other tremendously. We sure have different relationships with our adult sons and daughters than we had with our moms. Moms used to be moms to their kids. That was it. Today, we’re a whole lot more, including mentor, pal, therapist, sounding board, and sometimes even boss.

I love hanging out with my kids a whole lot. I know they wouldn’t want to be with me 24/7–or even 12/3–but they know I’m here for them whenever they want. After all, that’s what friends are for.

A single or unattached 22-year-old woman in the 1960s was about to enter “spinsterhood.” As the decades moved on, the entry point for spinsterhood moved up, so by 2010, a woman could enter her thirties without the spinster stigma.

But I see something else happening in our society today: Many women are entering their forties, fifties and beyond—successful, satisfied, secure and single. They aren’t embarrassed and ashamed to be man-less. They still look cool, sexy and confident, even without a man by their sides.  They’re adopting kids on their own, giving birth to kids on their own (all you need is sperm!) and buying homes on their own. They know enough men they can call on to escort them to a party, event or come along for a movie. Even to have sex.

Granted, not all women feel this confident and relaxed about being sans man. Many still feel anxious and worry they’ll be alone for the rest of their lives and never have kids. Although I understand wanting to be part of a couple, married or not, I feel bad for women who become scared and desperate. That state of mind can be pretty big turnoff to a man. Personally, I think it’s better to never marry or marry later in life than to marry out of hopelessness.

I’ve been married, divorced, alone and in relationships.  The way I like being best is being happy with myself. No man can make that happen for me.

he may be a brat, but he sure is cute!

I’ve become a dog lover in my FOF years. I was nipped in my upper thigh by a neighbor’s dog when I was a kid, an incident that instilled the fear of God in me whenever I came within 50 feet of a dog, even if it weighed in at three pounds. I had to go to the ER to have the bite cauterized.

My dog fear dissipated over the years, but I still wasn’t a big dog fan. Actually, I thought any woman who adored a dog really needed a good man.

Turns out, I barking up the wrong tree. After hearing David talk about how much he loved the dogs he’s owned, I wanted one. My biological dog clock must have kicked in.

We took Rigby home a little over four years ago, and although everyone I know thinks he is a spoiled brat, needy and a pest, I love him. I can’t even tell you why I love him, especially because I agree he’s a brat. Maybe it’s because he would be lost without me. Where would he get his food, his shelter, and his companionship? And who would wag their tail furiously when I came home?

Rigby and I went into a pet store on tonight’s walk, where I always like to look at the puppies for sale.  I wanted to take them all home, especially the ones who looked forlornly up at me.

I could tell Rigby knew he was a lucky dog.