A good friend of mine is having a baby and confesses that she’s worried that she’s not going to be able to love this baby as much as she loves her first born.

She wants to know if I think there is something wrong with her. She wants to know how on Earth a mother — those primally programmed to be the open-armed kissy love machines since time began — could worry about loving one baby, and not the next?

I tell her I want to know how on Earth she got this far along, with her rounded belly and waddling walk, without realizing that 99.99 percent of women who give birth more than once face the same fear?

Maybe it’s our Heathcliff-and-Cathy, Angel-and-Buffy culture that seems to make us think there is one true love. A beloved pet dies, and almost every pet owner worries about getting another, lest the loss taint their affection for pet No. 2. Some of us get married — yay! true love at last — and fret about what age will do to our marital affection. And then what pets will do to our marital affection, and then what kids will do to our pet affection and our marital affection and I think you see where I’m going with this.

The answer, which we explore in this month’s magazine, is love. More love. And then some more. Heathcliff and Angel neglected to tell us that it truly is an exponential gift.

— Erika
erika@womensmag.com

Ah, balance.  

We launched this issue — our first of 2010 — with some exciting changes. We welcome several new voices: Stylist Marian Rothschild will share her insider fashion tips in a column, Mile High Style, and Boulderite Cheri Felix will dig deep as she tries to live 2010 as if it were her last.  

Once again, it’s all about balance.   

You’ll notice our stories are shorter (we know how busy you are, ack!), but we’re still rocking your favorite columnists, like Kate “Eco Diva” Nelson and Boulder’s organization goddess Liz Canavan.

Look for us now bimonthly inside your local newspaper, on stands throughout Boulder County or order your free subscription at www.womensmag.com. And if you’re a techy geek, don’t miss our Facebook fan page or our Twitter updates (@womensmag).

We continue to joyfully evolve to meet your needs and ideas. After all, this is the only magazine created right here in Boulder, by Boulder County women for Boulder County women. Our office is your playground.    
— Aimee  
aimee@womensmag.com

She grabs you by the straps of your sports bra and says: What are you going to give me this year? How are you going to make this year better than the last?

Well, give us a break, January. We’re already on it.

We recrafted Womens Magazine in 2008, with a mission to connect with Boulder County women on several levels: We wanted to share your stories, offer you tips to simplify your busy lives and tell you stories to inspire and entertain you.

It’s been a tough task in a tougher economy. But it also has been the most enjoyable of adventures.

So many of you have contacted us over the months with your amazing stories: Stories about survival and of extraordinary transformations. We’ve heard from our neighbors, who are successful businesswomen, philanthropic powerhouses and kick-butt athletes. This is the kind of dialogue we’ve been seeking, people coming together to uplift one another in our journeys together as women, and as wives, friends, daughters and mothers.

So, here’s to 2010! We don’t need January’s ice-cold stern lecturing to get us motivated for a great year. We are already on our way.

Aimee Heckel, Editor
Erika Stutzman, Managing Editor

Photo by Geoff Deakin.

I can be just as bad, in my own way. I know the true meaning of the holiday season, and I know the deep, fleeting value in family gatherings. But more than once, I’ve spent the better part of a holiday season obsessing over the perfect “get” for the family gift exchange. I’ve spent the better part of a holiday family dinners trapped in my kitchen, hand-slicing Brussels sprouts into identical paper-thin ribbons or making homemade croutons in a 12-step process that takes as much time as baking and decorating a once-in-a-lifetime wedding cake.

But it’s the unexpected gifts that can help us leave that toy catalogue at home, to go on and leave those Brussels sprouts whole.
I intricately planned a day off from work earlier this season — my to-do list included perhaps 750 little activities — only to have my children’s school close down for the day due to snow. As I mentally scrubbed 750 things from my day, I remembered how much I loved snow days as a kid. There’s a reason: It’s an unanticipated gift. A gift of time, a gift of family togetherness. We baked chocolate cakes and watched princess movies; we went out for lunch at a restaurant and built a sturdy snowman with a carrot nose.

It wasn’t obsessively planned, and it wasn’t intricate or impressive. It was just perfect. That’s what I’m hoping for, for the season. But I’m not planning for it.

— Erika Stutzman
erika@womensmag.com

This was going to be the year of slowing down. (Insert maniacal, hyena-like laugh here.) I figured with a subjective and vague resolution like “slow down,” I couldn’t stray too far.

And 15 days into this year, the universe seemed to be on my side. I got slammed with a major surgery and bed-bound for two months. It doesn’t get much slower than bed.

Photo by Molly Plann

But my body bounced back — and with a vengeance, every month trying to make up for the earlier downtime. Suddenly, I was run over by December, and the victim of the craziest year of my life.

Of course, I might have torpedoed into outer space if I hadn’t been trying to drag my heels. And anyway, isn’t success just a matter of perspective? Perhaps I had already rocked my resolution so well that by
March, my life was ready for the next step: the reward.

Because when we think about our lives, we don’t remember the goals we’ve set. We think about the outcomes. Like a vacation. Sure, the plane ride or road map is important, but it’s the memories and photos of the destination that change our lives. Regardless of how we fold the map when packing; regardless of our resolutions.

I welcome 2010 with a smirk, knowing that this year might not turn out how I expect it to, and knowing that is the best part of it all.

That is my resolution next year: To enjoy.
I wish for you joy, too.

— Aimee Heckel
aimee@womensmag.com

Just like we are made up of countless little cells that miraculously hold together in the shape of a woman, our lives are comprised of countless little choices. Funny little details that, when taken out of context, are trivial and meaningless.

Photo by Molly Plann.

Like this: I am obsessed with drinking orange juice.

Alone, this factoid is pretty trite. Silly. Not worth a second thought.
But it is a piece of the biggest thing to ever happen to me. Let’s add a few more little things to the chain.

A flirty glance. A shared cookie on the rooftop of a Boulder business. A few hangers in my closet. A shelf. Little acts of patience. Quick hugs. A moment of tears. Three little words. A bigger bed. A white veil tornadoing in the wind. One kiss.

A little too much wine. One tiny plus sign. One tiny cell inside my uterus. Little hic-cups. A new life. An obsession with orange juice.
It’s fun to play with perspective. Many people choose to focus on flashes in their lives, bad or good, out of the context of the greater picture. This leads to disconnect. Yet it’s those details that give our lives character. Without the details, I’m just another procreator. The little things are the color for our unique story.

That’s why this month, for Thanksgiving, we salut the little things. From our gift guide (page xx) to cover story, about a local photographer trying to make a difference one face at a time (page xx), we hope you enjoy the small ways we’ve tried to brighten up your winter.

Cheers to life’s little-big joys. Now can someone pour me another virgin screwdriver?

– Aimee Heckel
aimee@womensmag.com

So we’ve trotted out the kids’ teeny little mittens and their small winter boots. My running shoes are still out and at the ready — there’s a Turkey Trot this month, after all — but my own ski helmet is no longer in the very back of the closet. It’s graduated to a spot near the front.
Another friend, this one in Florida, shares holiday photos of her family on Thanksgiving and on Easter Sunday, and more often than not, they’re all on surfboards, or in swimsuits, the littlest ones grasping their Easter baskets with little tanned, sandy hands.
Having grown up here, I remember a childhood of wearing Easter bonnets on my head, and either Moon Boots or strappy sandals on my feet, depending on the weather. And you really wouldn’t know until a day or two in advance.
This month is all about being thankful for things, and my list is too long for a magazine of any size. But today, a crisp fall day that started out under a canopy of  gray clouds only to erupt into a glorious big blue sunny sky, I will count the glory of our changing seasons among them. Thanksgiving on a beach may sound dreamy to some people, but we are thankful for the element of surprise.

– Erika Stutzman
erika@womensmag.com

This is a controversial topic for women. As editors for a magazine that runs advertisements for cosmetic procedures, we hear it all the time: Some decry the ads, insisting we don’t run them and saying we’re harming women. I don’t know much about advertising, but I can safely assume that if those businesses are spending money trying to get their phone numbers to you readers, not everyone can be outraged.

That is to say, for all the angry readers, there must be some of you picking up your phone as well.

It has always been this way. And it will always be this way. When I was 22, I had the opportunity to meet with a famous feminist. And she told me — off the record during some chit-chat, so I won’t divulge her name — that she secretly wished to have a face lift. She wanted the lines off her face, she wanted her eyelids to be up off her bright eyes. But she wouldn’t go through with it, because if she got caught, it would hurt her reputation with women.

In truth: I was disappointed. It sounded so shallow, coming from one of my heroes. And a feminist? We aren’t supposed to be like that.

But the lineless face of that 22-year-old with small pores looks a lot different now. And the babies that were housed in my body for a while marked their territory, and how. I don’t know that cosmetic surgery is right for me — in truth, I don’t believe that it ever will be — but just because it’s not for me, doesn’t mean it’s not for anyone.

Drop me a line, I would love to hear what you think about this issue.

— Erika
erika@womensmag.com

When I was a kid, that was a vampire. The other kids in school made fun of me for not dressing up like a princess or Jem and the Holograms or something sparkly and “girly.” What kind of girl wanted to drench herself in fake blood and white face paint?

Photo by Iman Woods

But I didn’t care. I was intrigued and inspired by vampires for reasons beyond reason. And Halloween was my day — my choice. What kind of girl would want to look like everyone else?

True freedom is free will. The chance to mess up, or rise up, and make your own crazy, fake-blood-splattered pathway through life (and the afterlife, if so be it, Buffy). Choosing to transform yourself, whether permanently or just for moment, is the greatest gift we have — and we can give it to ourselves as many times as we want. The only catch: You have to be brave enough to take it.

This month, as Colorado slowly transforms into winter, I’m thinking about my own transformations. What am I doing today that will make me who I want to be tomorrow?

Sometimes, a choice to transform is physical: trying to go back in time through cosmetic surgery, or starting a new chapter with a tattoo. Sometimes the only choice is how we change: with grace and strength. Other times, it might be as simple as rearranging the kitchen, as a way of appreciating where you already are.

Whatever face your change takes, remember, it’s yours. You have more control in this game than your realize. And take it from 8-year-old Aimee: Don’t be scared to shake up your classroom. It’s way more fun when you’re doing the scaring.

— Aimee
aimee@womensmag.com

Offering cool respite from a season of heat, autumn arrives like a gift.

Not that I’m complaining. Not at all. The summer was warm, but the long sunny days offered me more time for adventure and fun. And a few early summer storms excluded, the healthy amount of rain and clear cool nights made for one awesome Colorado summer. One for the books, really.

But fall has always beckoned to me. Maybe it’s the book nerd in me: I was one of those children and young adults who was thrilled at the start of each new school year. A chance to learn new things and meet new people, and frankly: Fall in love. I was always falling in love, in the fall. I still am, only it’s with the same person now, year after year.

Maybe it’s the fashionista in me. You can only do so much with T-shirts and shorts. Fall means beautiful sweaters, big vintage jewelry that would make you sweat under summer’s swelter, and boots, boots and more boots.

Maybe it’s the homebody in me. The pressure to spend sunny days constantly out-of-doors slowly dissolves as the sun sets earlier these days. Dusk is the perfect time to cook up wonderful meals for friends, or snuggle up with my children and some books on the couch. An unexpectedly hot morning will send us barreling outside, looking for one last gasp of summer to soak up and savor until next year.

What’s not to love?

— Erika
erika@womensmag.com