Toothless!

Guess who lost their very first tooth? Yes, of course, I cried. Of course, right?

Welcome Home

Chris and I both grew up in Buffalo. It is wonderful to move back to the place you grew up and be surrounded by family, particularly as you raise your own little family. But the friends we had growing up have all moved out and on, setting down roots in places far away from the place we call home. We have been blessed to make new, amazing, life long friends that have settled in Buffalo, but we still miss the old. Always have and always will.

In a bizzare coincidence, this week many of these friends planned visits to Buffalo. We have some of Chris's closest friends visiting from Charlotte and my dearest, bestest friends visiting from Oregon. It is like a dream to have them all here. We love sharing our life here with the people who share our history. There is comfort in history, a sense of ease and shared experiences.

I spend a lot of time dreaming of a life with all of them here. A life where we raise our children together. A life where we share weekly dinners together. A life where we are all there to support each other and assist each other in difficult times. We joke about buying land and all of us building our dream homes right next to each other. So we can be there, always there, for each other and our families.

But one by one, they all have to return to their lives. This morning my best friend Diane, her hubbie Scott and their beautiful three children flew back to Oregon. I know we all have blessed lives in our homes, as spread out as they may be, but I still cling to that dream. A dream of all of us settled together in a village we call our own.

Aliens Have Abucted My Children and I Like It

Wednesdays are normally tough nights in our house. It's hump day of my work week (T/W/TH) and the boys are wiped from two full days out of the house in school. It doesn't help that Griffin only naps periodically at school and Brennan has been on a complete school nap strike. By the time we arrive home, I am guaranteed some bickering and screaming leading to tantrums with tears. Lots of tears.

But then there is today. After I picked Brennan and Griffin up, we headed to grab Aidan who goes to my Aunt's house after school. Aidan hopped into the car munching on a bag of chips he clutched in his hand. I counted to ten, knowing the inevitable brawl that was about to occur when Brennan realized he didn't have chips. I was surprised to hear this:

Brennan: "You have chips Aidan?"

Aidan: "Yes."

Brennan: "Can I have some chips Aidan?"

"Sure," Aidan replies as he hands him a handful of chips.

Brennan: "Thank you Aidan."

Aidan: "You're welcome."

Hmmmm, what is this? Sharing? Manners? Kindness? I was afraid to even comment and incur the wrath that is the jinx of mommies everywhere.

We arrived home moments later. On normal Wednesdays, one or two of my children will dissolve into hysterics by the time the front door is shut. This is followed by rapid fire demands cried at me in high pitched whines. "I want to watch tv." "I want dinner." "I want milk." "I have to go potty." "I want my binky." "I want my blankie." For twenty to thirty minutes after arriving home, I manage to comply with continuous demands and extinguish the fires of hysteria brought on by sheer exhaustion in my children. And on each and every Wednesday, I question my decision to work. Because it is that bad.

Today? We walk in the house. Aidan volunteers to take Brennan's shoes off for him. I settle Griffin in the high chair with a snack and offer to put on a Caillou episode while I make dinner. I brace myself for the nightly fight over the television selection. (Brennan likes Curious George. Aidan is more a Super Why kid.)

"Caillou!" The boys yell with jubilation as they happily settle onto the couch without one demand, without one whine and without one tear.

I make dinner in a peaceful, quiet kitchen and enjoy the babbles of Griffin from his high chair. The boys eat dinner - even taking the required bites of veggies without a whine in sight. At this point, I am convinced. Aliens have abducted my children and replaced them with robots. Is it bad I may want to keep these little robots? Maybe just for a little while?

Mommy Negligence

Has anyone ever turned their back on their crawling baby for perhaps, a moment or two? And then discovered said crawling baby eating out of the garbage?

No? Just me. Good. Good to know.

On a totally unrelated topic, I have to share and document the best thing said to me today. Brennan and I were snuggled up on the couch. After hugging me for the millionth time, he smiled at me and said, "Momma, you make me happy."

It almost made me forget that an hour earlier, I had to put him in his room kicking and screaming and crying so loud I was convinced our neighbors would call the police.

I may let them eat garbage, but at least I make them happy. How's that for some maternal justification?

Free at Last

I escaped today. I managed to carve out an afternoon of nothingness. Nothingness sans children, that is. The euphoria of the child free afternoon bubbled inside of me as I danced my way out of the house to my car intent on getting myself to Borders. I ignored the screams of my children as they protested my leaving and yelled "good luck" to Chris over their hysteria. When I just had one child, I would have felt guilt at leaving when I saw the tears. After three children, I just giggle and run before my husband can change his mind.

I sipped coffee, ate a scone and browsed books to my heart's content. I did some retail therapy at Ann Taylor Loft (shhh, don't tell the hubbie) and even took in a matinee. It was perfect.

After the movie, the reality of Wegmans awaited. But Wegmans child free is a wonder. No crying, no bribes. Just me, leisurely strolling the aisles as I marked items of my list.

As I checked out, the college student/check out clerk made small talk with me. He admired the weather and noted how busy the grocery store was today. And then he asked, "Did you do anything really, truly exciting this weekend?"

I laughed. "Exciting? Hmmm, probably not."

"No?" The clerk smiled.

"Well, this is exciting for me, " I said with a grin. "I have three children under the age of five. So going grocery shopping without children in tow and hearing crying or tantrums that I have no responsibility for - well, that, to me is exciting."

The clerk's smile faded as he stared at me. Then he said, "Wow, that's pretty pathetic."

It's a good pathetic, though. I came home to a smothering of hugs and kisses from Aidan and Brennan and excited sqeals from Griffin in the high chair. I took the boys outside to push them on the swing and then sat on the grass with Griffin and watched Chris play football with the older boys. We laughed and cuddled. We chased and tackled. We enjoyed each other.

Nothing pathetic in that. Nothing at all.

Soccer!

With my hubbie otherwise engaged, the soccer duties fell to me today. While I have taken Aidan to his various toddler soccer activities, this was my first glimpse into the world of "real" soccer in the distinguished kindergarten-1st grade slot for our town's soccer league.

Pre-soccer, we had my friend Christine over with her girls' Ellie and Casey. I asked her to keep an eye on the kiddies so I could take a moment to actually brush my hair. At her laughter I responded, "Yes, I will not brush my hair for a visit with you - but for all those soccer moms, I'll break out the brushin'".

And was I so glad I did. So very glad. (I only wish I had thought to break out some lip gloss.) Because, apparently, the entire town of who-ville plays soccer. It was a mass of mini vans and SUVs descending upon the soccer fields. All for the love of five year olds who can't kick the ball and run at the same time.

But for one of those five year olds, mine, that hour of soccer was a picture of a child in pure joy. Aidan didn't score a goal. I'm not sure he even attempted a goal. But every moment he was on that field, he was laughing or grinning. He loves the game. Not the score. Not the competition. Just the game. It was such a pure emotion, so unspoiled. Just pure joy.

Tired

I'm tired. Last week, before the plague struck our home, I told Chris I seriously needed a little break. A day or two away from our beautiful children to regroup and refresh. As payment for uttering this fallacy out loud, the stomach flu from hell struck our family down one, by one. Instead of peace and rest, I was gifted with the smell of vomit stinging my nostrils. (I swear, even a week later, I swear! I can still smell it.)

And that brings us to today. Since Wednesday, Chris has been burning the midnight oil at work. He is gone before we get up in the morning and home after we are in bed. He will not be home until late tonight and is also tied up all day tomorrow. From morning 'til night, it's mommy time.

I am not sure I am going to make it. The acrobatic juggle of children, work, life, friends and family has left me spent. I do not have an ounce left to give. I feel utterly depleted. And I spend way too much time dreaming of me alone in a hotel room with nothing but a room service menu, a good book and silence.

Me and Buzz

"I love you," I said to Brennan as I gave him one last final good night hug.

"I love you too Momma," He replied back with a smile.

I turned to leave.

"You know what Momma?"

"What B?"

"I love you the best."

My heart melted as I stared down at his sweet, earnest brown eyes.

Then he paused and continued, "After Buzz Lightyear Mom, I love you the best."

Well, at least I beat out Woody, right?

Kindergarten: The Update

All is well and good in kindergarten land. Aidan is adjusted. He likes the bus. He loves his class, particularly his little friend Danny who he talks about incessantly. I asked him, yesterday, if he plays at all with Todd, a friend's child in his class.

"No, not really," he responded.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Todd is not a good listener." Aidan said emphatically. In my silence, he went on to say, "And he likes to talk when the teacher is talking. And Mom, That Is Not A Good Thing."

Okay then. Aidan is also apparently very well adjusted to the rules of the classroom.

Now we just need to convince Aidan that the entire family does not need to join him at the end of the driveway each and every morning to wait for the school bus. All five of us. Every morning. After a week at waving at the neighbors as they drive by, I have a hunch we have gone from the cute family with the new kindergartener to the freaky family out every morning to greet the neighbors in our pjs. I'm hoping they ask us to pose for a picture for the neighborhood newsletter.

The Plague

The Plague has descended upon our house. Aidan and Brennan tag teamed a happening Friday night of vomit and poo. The flu revelry was action packed and lasted all night long.

This morning, I tucked Aidan under a blanket on the couch where he sleepily watched some mind numbing tv.

"Thanks, Mom," he said with a sleepy smile. After he snuggled deeper under the blankets, he smiled again and said, "You know what? This feels just like Christmas."

Yes, because unlike other children who equate Christmas with gifts, santa and holiday cheer, my children now equate Christmas with vomit and poo thanks to the furious stomach virus that was Christmas 2006. This gives me many creative ideas for our Christmas card this year.

The Vomit Chronicles

We had plans to see Ani DiFranco on Wednesday evening at the Church. We left the kiddies with Grandma JoJo and were off to enjoy some preconcert drinks with friends.

I slurped up the last drop of my raspberry martini at Scarlett when Chris's cell phone rang. It had the ring of doom. Our night of freedom, music and fun lasted all of an hour because Griffin started projectile vomiting all over the flippin' place. He even managed to coat my mother in bile - leaving her wandering our home in her bra.

Instead of dancing the night away to Ani's tunes, we spent the better part of the evening playing catch the vomit before it hits the floor.

Just livin' the dream, one day at a time.

Bus Update and a Game of Tag

The only tears at the bus stop this morning were mine. Aidan hugged me goodbye, slapped Chris a high five, said goodbye to both his brothers and hopped on the school bus without a care in the world.

This made me cry. It’s a lot harder to send your child off to school when they are happy and not kicking and screaming. I only wish I thought to take a picture of Aidan as a happy bus goer.

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In unrelated news, I have been tagged by my dear cousin Kristen to write eight random things about me. (My first tagging, very exciting.) I think there are some rules about what to write and how to pass it on, but I’m bad at rules.

So here’s my version of some randomness about me:

1. I once rode the bobsled track at Olympic Park in Park City Utah. It was very fast and it scared the hell out of me.

2. If I was alone in the car during my long drive home from college, I would put on the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack and pretend to be Belle. Really. I’d sing at full volume each and every note right along with Belle. With inflection.

3. I have been a passenger in a police car three times in my life. Two of the three times involved some (ahem) underage drinking. The third was my police ride along for my training as an assistant district attorney. During my ride along, we got in the midst of a threatened shoot out with a ‘perp” after a burglary. This made me so excited I told one of the detectives that, “I almost peed my pants.” That engendered a lot of respect for me among my friends, the cops.

4. I am a horrible liar. The only way for me to make a fib look passably believable is to convince myself that it is actually true.

5. I didn’t drive on the highway until I was nineteen. I failed my drivers test the first time I took it. (I blame it on my husband, Chris, who taught me how to drive when I was 16.) I also like to drive fast. Really, really fast.

6. I love to bake. When I first learned how to make apple pie, I was so excited that I made two or three a week until my husband had to gently put an end to my madness.

7. I once wore one brown shoe and one black shoe to work. It was two hours before I noticed.

8. I can’t sleep at night unless my husband is next to me. And I still cry when he has to go away on a business trip.

The Bus (again!)

Kindergarten: the Bus ride take two. The big yellow bus stopped in front of our driveway, opened its doors and the cousins waved at Aidan, again. And Aidan? He melted down in hysterics, again. Chris tried to nudge him up the stairs of the bus, but Aidan just screamed louder and grabbed at me. As we were about to concede parental defeat and just drive the boy to school again, the bus driver told Chris to carry him onto the bus and put him in the seat. And so he did. Chris picked Aidan up and carried him, crying and screaming, to the front seat of the bus. Chris sat Aidan down in the seat and our cousin Liam immediately sat down right next to Aidan, thereby preventing Aidan from leaving his seat.

Chris ran off the bus. The bus driver smiled at us, waved and said, “He’ll be fine.” I could still hear Aidan crying as the bus driver shut the bus doors. My son, the kindergartner, restrained and hysterical, off to his second day of school.

Chris followed the bus to school in his car in order to reassure us both that Aidan would be okay. Aidan was fine, of course. He hopped off the bus, laughing, content to stride into school among a sea of his cousins. As he passed Chris, he grinned and slapped him a high five.

Sigh. While Chris drove to Aidan’s school, I had to go in and get the other two munchkins off to their school. Brennan dissolved into a fit of tears when he found out he had to leave for the day. At first I thought he was sad to be away from me, but then I knew better. Brennan just loved having the house, Aidan’s toys and Aidan’s room all to himself. God bless that middle child.

Tonight I have my very first parent association night. I have to confess to a bit of nervousness myself. The other mothers scare me. I have a feeling they would never let their nine month old eat rice off the floor (I did yesterday) or lose their car in a parking lot (two days ago) or put carrots in the freezer instead of the fridge (last night.) It's going to be a long night.

Kindergarten: Game On

It started out well enough. We trucked the whole family out to the driveway to wait, with excited anticipation, for the big yellow school bus to arrive and pick Aidan up for his first day. See how happy he looks? So happy. So very, very happy.

There were hugs all around. Some excited waves as neighbors drove by us. And Brennan rocked his early morning fashion statement of a sweatshirt hastily thrown over his Batman pjs with crocs.



And then the bus arrived. Aidan's cousins excitedly waved from the bus as the big door swung open. Aidan made it up one stair and well, then it all just went to shit. My dream Kodak moment shot of my little boy climbing up the stairs on his first real school bus looks like this:

This is Aidan running back to grab me after making it up only one stair of the school bus. After this picture was taken, we endured ten minutes of screaming as Aidan clutched my leg, my arm or any other part of my body he could hang onto while he wailed in terror. I did everything I could to get him on that bus, including climbing right up there with him. Nothing worked. He screamed louder. Minutes ticked by and the line of cars behind the bus snaked around the block. Finally, we admitted defeat and let the bus head on to school without Aidan.

Unfortunately, we still had to get the kid to school. The meltdown continued inside the house until Chris carried him, screaming, into the car to drive him. Apparently, he cried and screamed (Aidan, not Chris - although I am sure Chris was tempted) the whole ride to school. When they arrived at school, the principal took Aidan, wailing, and told Chris she would walk Aidan to his classroom. We were told by the principal and by kind family and friends that Aidan calmed down once he was inside of his classroom.

And this afternoon? Aidan rode the bus home. Without a tear or a sniffle. Of course, I don't have a Kodak moment picture to share of his triumphant bus return because I was too busy opening my arms for a giant hug from my little kindergartner.

But if you ever want to see the meltdown to end all meltdowns? We have video of the entire morning. Chris caught the whole thing on our camcorder. I may make Aidan watch it when he's 18 and off to college.

Twas the Night Before Kindergarten

As I tucked Aidan in bed tonight, I spent a good fifteen minutes talking about what to expect tomorrow at kindergarten. We covered the bus, the class, the other kiddies. We talked about getting ready for the day, his clothes, his friends and his teacher. We went over his lunch and its contents. We even discussed the snack he wants when he gets off the bus.

After I kissed him goodnight and turned to leave, Aidan smiled at me and asked, "So, what are we doing tomorrow mom? It's a mommy day right?"

I look at him perplexed and responded with exasperation, "Aidan, you're going to school tomorrow."

"I am?" He asked with shock, "But, it's Monday. I don't go to school on Mondays."

I closed my eyes, shook my head back and forth and prayed to the god of all mothers for patience. After a beat or two, I smiled and said quietly, "You start kindergarten tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, right. Kindergarten. Okay."

Ah, boys.

Kindergarten: The School Supply Drop Off

Who knew there were so many facets to starting kindergarten? Friday was school supply drop off day. I am happy to report we conquered school supply drop off without incident. No tears, no screaming, and no breakdowns. (Well, okay, there may have been one wee little incident. Just a small matter of my mistakenly setting off my car alarm in the school parking lot when I thought I was locking the car doors. My life is destined to be a constant spectacle.)

I liked school supply drop off day. I think it went a long way for helping Aidan feel comfortable in his classroom and with his teacher. We were told supply drop off was from 10-11 a.m. Fortunately for Aidan, I am a slacker Mommy and we arrived at approximately 10:55. By then, all the other kiddies and over achiever mommies had come and gone, leaving us alone in the new classroom with Aidan's new teacher. I wish I could say I planned that. Yep, I did! I did! (Pat self on back. )

After the supplies were all taken care of, we were off for a hand modeling gig for Aidan at Fisher-Price. I still giggle when we arrive and the stylist is all lotioning up his hands and filing his nails. The humor in this never gets old for me. Coming soon to a toystore near you - Aidan's hands will soon be featured on the package of some pirate mountain thingie. We also caught some of his earlier work at the Fisher-Price store. His hands are on the boxes of the shake and go planes. It's beautiful work, I tell ya. My hand famous little boy.

Happy Birthday Aidan!

We took this picture when Aidan was just five weeks old. I look at him today, at five years old, and my heart breaks a little to remember him as a baby. Tonight, I was so very grateful he is still young enough, still small enough, to snuggle up in my lap.

Kindergarten: The Screening

Today was kindergarten screening day for Aidan. Our appointment time with his teacher was 9 a.m. We arrived in the school parking lot at 8:52. Aidan started crying and screaming at approximately 8:53. In between his cries and general hysteria, he refused to get out of the car and yelled he didn’t want to go to kindergarten anyway.

“I’m not going!” “I’m not going!” He yelled repeatedly as his screams got louder and louder.

I sat in the front seat, taking deep breaths, furtively looking around the parking lot for other parents with their calm and happy kindergartners who would now be witnesses to my parental ineptitude. As I did this, I also fought off the temptation to just start screaming right along with him.

A good mother would have known how to calm her child down. A good mother would have been able to reason with her child. A good mother would have validated her child’s fears, but still manage to get her child to be brave.

What did I do? I smiled at him and through a clenched jaw told him that if he did not get out of the car right this very minute, I would call up his preschool and reenroll him for another year of pre-k. I went on and said, “And if you aren’t in Kindergarten, this means you can’t do many of the big boy things you like to do. Including playing Star Wars Legos on the XBox!”

He was out of the car one minute later. I didn’t reason, act calming or validating. Nope. I just threatened. Great parenting technique.

Once we were in the building, he did great. Not a tear or a hiccup in sight. I am convinced children have multiple personalities that allow them to turn their emotions on and off at a whim. They are like little Sybils.

Monday morning, the bus arrives to pick Aidan up at 7:30 a.m. I am not sure if even the threat of a world without Lego Star Wars is even enough to get my child on that bus.

Is This Normal?

I turn to Chris after an especially hellish morning with the kiddies and ask with an irritated sigh, "Do you sometimes look at the chaos that is our life and think this is just plain insane??"

He looks at me, shrugs and replies, "No. I've just convinced myself this is normal."

Lived to Tell the Tale of the Party

We did it. We successfully planned and executed Aidan's fifth birthday party. The key to our genius success? The key to entertaining sixteen five year olds? We didn't do the party at home. No clean up, no stress and how much do I just adore the local YMCA? Bunches and oodles of love and adoration to the Y.

We rented out the Y's Adventure Room. The Adventure Room is every child's dream. It's a huge two level room with slides, climbing walls, suspension bridges, cushy blocks, and one giant ass "mountain" composed entirely out of humongous gym mats. The kiddies went crazy nuts for an hour and then retreated to another room for cake and a pinata. All Star Wars themed, of course. We even gave out "Jedi Space Goop" as favors. (plain ol' flubber with a picture of Yoda.)

I may never, ever, have another child party at our home again. Ever.


Aidan and Brennan hold on for dear life on top of the mountain. And at the end, the daddies had to do some climbing too. (I kept out the pictures I have of our dear friend Dylan climbing up the mountain wall. I may just use those for some blackmailing at a later date. I couldn't resist putting in the picture of Chris having a blast though.)