Anthony and Bubble

From the time I was old enough to realize I wanted to be a mother,  I've wanted sons. By the time I was 27, I had them; three of them. (Even then, in my beautiful 20s, I was so insecure I thought, "What the hell do I want with a daughter; when I'm going through menopause, she'll be at the peak of her sexual attractiveness! I don't need THAT hanging around the house!")

I'm 56 now, so for almost 30 years, I've known myself as the mother of three sons. Giving birth to and raising them was the great joy of my life. They've been with me through my divorce from their father, my alcoholism, my recovery; I've been with them through their courtships, heartbreaks, jobs and job losses, and their entry into father- and uncle-hoods. My middle son, Matt, gave me away when I married John O'Reilly, and all three of them stood with me at his funeral. I've loved being the Woman with Three Sons. And now . . .

I've fallen in love with and will soon marry a man who has a fourteen-year old boy. So in addition to having found my great love in the person of his father, I get to be the mother of a son again.  I get to mother a teenage boy, and that's something I know I know how to do. Meet my Bonus Son, Anthony. Wish us well.