Christmas 2009 : the Pictures

Christmas Eve. The boys shed their matching sweaters approximately two minutes after arrival at dinner. They managed a few smiles and kept on the matching shirts. I can't help myself with the matchy-matchy. I find it horribly cute.





Nana whipping up a storm of Italian food for our feast.

Aidan with his cousin Liam.

Brennan with his cousin Matt.

The boys in a mid-Wii match.

Griffin with his cousin Alli. Alli, home from college, sweetly and generously took the boys to see the new Alvin and the Chipmunks movie the day before Christmas Eve so I could get some wrapping done. I adore her.

Casey and Bridget. I don't think they have ever taken a bad picture. Ever.

Christmas Morning! A shot of the sweetest, cuddliest, most adorable pup:

It's always a lego Christmas in our house:

Grumpy Griffin and his hockey guys:

We are grateful for the lego building prowess of Chris:

Aidan and the much desired nerf gun. What's Christmas without some nerf warfare?

I bought the boys each an inexpensive (read: mucho cheapo!) mp3 players as a last minute, throwaway gift. I loaded up a few songs on each before gifting them. Of course, as is always the case, the mp3 players were one of the biggest hits of the day. It felt like we had been inhabited with teenagers and they lazed around the couch grooving to their tunes. (It was also really quiet. Peacefully quiet.) The boys are over the moon with their new "ipods" as they call them. (I am not about to instruct them in the differences in the brands of their mp3s and the beloved Apple ipods.)

I didn't know what tunes to put on each of their players, so I made a mix of music already loaded onto our computer, but not through itunes. It didn't leave much of a selection, but it meant the boys are developing sophisticated musical tastes as they enjoy Maceo Parker, Tragically Hip and Dave Matthews Band. (It could definitely be worse, right?!)

Griffin's favorite presents were all Sabres related. Santa brought him a new Sabres sweatshirt, which, after opening, caused Griffin to dance with glee. Chris scored each boy a new Sabres hat, personalized and signed by Ryan Miller. Griffin would not take the hat off. He wore it for two days straight.

Griffin running down the stairs to get to the stack of presents under the tree, bright and early Christmas morning:

Christmas evening - dinner at my Aunt Nancy's and Uncle David's house. Griffin, of course, picked out his outfit - all Sabres, all the time.

Brennan enjoyed much quality time at their piano.

The day after Christmas, we opened presents with Chris's family and spent the morning playing and talking. Later that afternoon, my brothers and sisters-in law stopped over to play with the boys.

Griffin made up some fantastic stories to entertain his guests and had his uncles dying with laughter over his antics.

Aidan and Brennan, soaked up much Wii playing time with all their new Wii games. Mario Kart was a favorite.

After all the quality time with the boys, the adults retreated to an adult dinner out with wine, good food and much laughter. It was a perfect end to the holiday.

And a Merry Christmas to All

Christmas is my favorite time of year. I revel in every little bit of the Christmas celebration. But each year I forget until we are immersed in the season, that Christmas, at least how my family does it, is a marathon.

It is a fun marathon of gifts, visits with family, food and drink, but it is a marathon that saps you of any energy or any desire to get off the couch or out of your pajamas.

We started Christmas Eve at my grandparents with our traditional dinner: wine and much Italian food. It is a tradition in my family that after we are all seated for dinner, my grandfather directs one person to give a toast. We never know which person he is going to choose, but it always someone with something significant to celebrate. (I gave a barely coherent, rambling, teary eyed and hormone filled toast in 2006, nine days after giving birth to Brennan.)

This year, my grandfather chose my cousin Bridget. Bridget is a high school senior and just learned she was accepted to her first choice college. Her poise and beauty while she spoke of how blessed she feels to have our family as her own left not a dry eye in the house.

After the toast (and a good heaping gulp of wine), my grandfather selects someone to lead our table in grace. My sister in law Tennille gave a beautiful blessing and dinner was served.

A few minutes later, Griffin walked up to Chris and said in his ear, "I want to say something Daddy."

Chris laughed and told Griffin that if he did, indeed, want to say something to the table, then he had to go ask "Pop Pop" at the head of the table. Griffin nodded and set off for his great-grandfather.

I saw Griffin whispering in my grandfather's ear as he nodded with a smile and laughed. Griffin walked back to me, grabbed the seat next to me, sat down and yelled, "I want to say something!!!"

The chattering didn't stop. Griffin took a deep breath, and tried again.

"I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING."

We all laughed and grew silent as we looked at Griffin. He grew more shy as twenty some pairs of eyes watched him quietly.

"Close your eyes!" Griffin yelled as only a three year old can command.

We did. And then softly, he continued, "Merry Christmas."

It is hard to believe he is three. Just impossibly hard to believe most of the time.

The rest of the night passed with presents, laughter and time spent amongst those we love most in the world. I feel blessed everyday to share my life with my family, but even more so amongst the magic of Christmas.

The boys were up way too late. And again, Chris and I fervently hoped and prayed they would manage to sleep in a little later to make up for the late night bedtime.

They were all up at 5:30 a.m. Of course, right?! 5:30 is just too early for anything, even for Christmas.

The boys and Chris finally dragged me out of bed at 6:30 am. We spent the day in our pajamas opening gifts, playing and napping. It was lovely.

We finally had to force ourselves to get dressed for round two of holiday cheer at my Aunt and Uncle's house. If I could have, I would have gone to dinner in my pjs.

We celebrated Christmas with Chris's parents the day after Christmas. More gifts, more cheer, more holiday fun.

A marathon of celebrating the season with people you love. It must be the best Christmas present of all.

That New Car Smell

Since I was pregnant with Aidan, I have driven a black Ford Explorer. Prior to my Explorer, I was footloose and fancy free, cavorting in my convertible Volkswagen Cabriolet. But then I got pregnant. (Really hugely pregnant. ) And I couldn't fit behind the wheel of my sweet, little convertible. It was time for the family car.

I like my Explorer. It is reliable (mostly). It has a third seat so it is roomy enough to cart around my family and many of my cousins. And it is paid off. (NO CAR PAYMENT = A DAMN FANTASTIC CAR.)

I'll be honest though. My car sort of smells. It's not a pungent, overpowering type of smell. It doesn't knock your socks off or anything. But, it's there. It is sort of a lingering, background odor of eight years of spilled milk and juice, lost french fries in seats and well, an episode or two of vomiting.

In fact, at least everyone of my children has thrown up in my car at least twice. In Griffin's case, he may have set a new record and thrown up more than we can count.

So yes, it does smell a bit.

And well, it is a little dirty. I am pretty easy going with my car. It is the car in which the kids spend most of their time. We all eat and drink in the car. It has been well lived in by three messy, sometimes very messy, little boys.

It has been almost 8 years in the same messy, somewhat smelly family car. But today, I get to soak up some new car smell. Yes! A car! I am getting a new car! A car no one has vomited in or spilled milk or juice or even lost a spare goldfish cracker! It is fresh and clean! And it even has an MP3 hookup so I can play my ipod and listen incessantly (and perhaps sing along) with the soundtrack from Glee! A new car! Yipee!

I am already having anxiety over how long I can keep my new car vomit free. I shudder at the inevitable christening of my sweet ride by my constant car sickly children. I think they just have to go throw up in Daddy's car from now on. And that's a rule.

Party Pooper

It's not a party until a kid poops on your floor. Yep.

At least this is what we are telling my mother.

My mother hosted the boys, Chris and me over for a pre-holiday dinner on Sunday. Our plan was to exchange gifts before the craziness that is our holiday celebration. (Or perhaps we have only added to the craziness by making Christmas one more day/event long. At this point my boys think Christmas is a string of days, fueled only by presents and decorated cookies.)

We had a great evening. Dinner, wine, a smorgasbord of desserts, it was all lovely. Aidan's favorite part was drinking his fruit juice out of a wine glass and chatting with the adults like he was seventeen instead of seven. My favorite part was a mom who knows how to serve a good pinot noir. (And my cute new fiesta ware. My dinnerware - it's a fiesta!)

Griffin's favorite part was when he realized he had (ahem) a little accident on Grandma JoJo's carpet. And his sock. And his pants. And the floor. Oh boy - oh poop. Griffin definitely brought new meaning to the term party pooper.

Thankfully, Grandma JoJo handled the pooping with grace and dug through the stockpile of presents to locate the cool new Buzz Lightyear undies and new jeans to outfit Griffin. She even found a pair of ankle socks from her drawer that G just loved.

I guess it's not really a party until someone poops. At least that's what we are telling ourselves. This may cut down on our holiday invites for next year.

The Party

Brennan's party for his friends was yesterday. He had requested his party be all dog themed and I was set with doggie themed cups, dog bone candies and scooby snacks for nibblers.

I wasn't set for the migraine that took me out for most of Saturday. Right up until we left for his party at the Y, I honestly wasn't sure I was going to make it. My face was bright red. My eyes still saw spots. And my head was so unbearably sore from the prickles of pain pounding my skull.

I rallied. But I forgot the camera. So we have no sweet pictures of Brennan racing around the Adventure Room at the Y with his buddies. They climbed, jumped and raced until they were sweaty little kiddies. A good time was had by all.

I did manage to snap off two quick shots with my phone. This is Brennan about to dive into a gigantic pile of presents.



And this is the birthday boy about to dive down the two story enclosed circle slide.

It's good to be five.

Brennan at Five

Today, Brennan is five.

Brennan truly marches to the beat of his own drum, content to take his own time and find the funny in anything and everything. He is at his happiest when he is making those around him giggle with his antics. He loves to make funny faces and tell funny jokes. He is our jokester and our performer.

He loves music and has insisted his grandmother teach him songs to play on our toy piano. He likes to spend time each night at bedtime learning new songs I sing to him. After I leave his bedroom, I will hear him singing to himself over and over softly until he finally falls asleep.

Brennan is a gentle soul. He is sensitive and caring. He loves to cuddle and hug. If I sit down or lay on the couch, Brennan is the first to run to snuggle up next to me. He loves to have his back gently scratched as we cuddle up under a warm blanket. But he is also our easy going guy. He doesn't let the little stuff bother him and often, seems oblivious to the little stuff.

Brennan's favorite movies are the Buddies flicks - starring the adorable Chewy like golden retriever puppies. He could recite them all by heart by now and can even pick off the theme song on his toy piano. He loves books and has spent the last three months pretending to read at his older brother's level, carting around duplicates of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series with him here, there and everywhere. (He even sleeps with it next to his bed.)

Brennan loves the snow. He could play outside digging and shoveling until his cheeks and nose turn blue. He loves to play sports - from hockey to soccer to tennis. If it involves him running and jumping, he wants to do it all.

Brennan has so much joy in him. It is joy he spreads to us, those who love him. Happy Birthday to our joyful, sweet, five year old boy.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Brennan got his birthday present delivered a little early in the form of a nice stomach bug that turned him into the kid from the Exorcist from 10 pm until 2 am last night.

I had just finished frosting 2 dozen cupcakes when the gift arrived. Poor B handled it like a champ and hardly offered one word of complaint. In fact, Chris and I had to laugh when he looked up as he crouched over the toilet, smiled and said, "Wow, this is is some tough stuff to get out of my belly."

I'll be honest. I see stomach bug and Christmas and I start to fear it may be a reprise of the year we missed Christmas completely because of children vomiting here, there and everywhere. In my attempt to be positive, I am relieved to report the current bug circulating Whoville appears to be a quickie as Brennan is completely recovered this morning.

Let's see how quickly the bug can make it through my family. It'd be nice if it stopped at the birthday boy. (fingers and toes crossed, prayers being said.) Please, let it stop with the birthday boy.

Leading Up to the Birthday

I asked Brennan a few weeks ago what he wanted for Christmas and his birthday. Prior to our adopting Chewy, he had been intent on asking for a dog and insisted it was the only thing he wanted. Now that we had the dog, I was trying to get a sense of what else would make Brennan happy under the tree.

He looked thoughtfully at me, shrugged his shoulders and replied, "You know what Momma? I know Santa keeps alot of lists of really great toys for boys like me and I am sure he is going to bring me stuff I love. I just know it."

Oh the sweetness. You put this next to Aidan's itemized list, complete with charts and cut out pictures, and the sweetness just amplifies until you want to cry.

A week or so after that discussion, Brennan and I were discussing his upcoming birthday party for his friends.

"Momma, I decided I don't want to open all my presents at my party. I want to bring them here and open them up at home," Brennan announced.

"Okay B," I said in response, "We can bring the gifts home and you can open them up with our family."

Brennan was already shaking his head as he said no. "No, I am not going to open the presents. I am going to put them all up in my room. And whenever I want, whenever I have time or I am bored, I am going to open one. Just one. And then I can play with that one present. Okay, Momma?"

Our B. He always manages to surprise me. Always.

Let It Snow

The boys have been desperate for snow. Each day, I have had to answer countless questions on when we would finally get our winter.

Be careful what you wish for. We got some and a little bit more. Two snow days and a few feet later, it's winter. And not just any winter, but a Buffalo winter.

Seeing Santa

We took the boys to a Christmas Party on Sunday to see Santa. I loved this party last year and really looked forward to it for the boys.

I tried to remember this when the boys were in line for their turn with Santa and they were alternating fighting, yelling, crying or screaming. I gamely smiled at the people behind us in line, gulped my wine and tried to disappear. It is a miracle we got this picture.

Aidan asked Santa for a nerf gun. Brennan asked Santa for star wars legos. Santa is prepared for both requests. Griffin, being the third child, asked for slippers. Apparently his feet get really cold in the winter. (As an aside, he has also now requested a robe. He really is a little old man trapped in a three year old body.)

After the hysteria of Santa, they ate their fill of cotton candy, the make your own sundae bar and christmas cookies. They worked it off in the bounce house and on the dance floor. Brennan pronounced it the "best night ever" as we left for home.

G at Three

Today, Griffin is three. I am not quite sure how this happened. The last three years have past in a blink of an eye. My home is empty of babies and full of boys.

At three, Griffin is as independent as ever. He prefers life done his way, at his pace, with his rules or else. He is a child of extremes. When Griffin is happy, he is really, really happy, but when he is not happy, well, let's just say he lets us all know. Loudly.

He has, from the moment he has been born, been intent on keeping up with his brothers. He refuses to be left behind. His keen intellect, outgoing personality and immense will have made this possible for him for most of the time. I am not sure I have ever had to stop and teach him something. If anything, Griffin has taught himself - from shapes, to letters, to counting and adding. He just seems to just know it how to do it, how to say it and how to get it done. There is a reason he is known as a "little old man" because he is truly an old soul.

Griffin loves life. He loves to dance and can bust quite a move. He loves to sing his own, silly, made up songs and listen to music. In the car, he prefers to listen to jazz on our local NPR station, but will often request I sing with him, telling me to "hit it Mommy" because we are "rock stars." He constantly asks I turn on music for him to either listen to or dance to when we are at home. And he also isn't shy to ask me to skip a song because it doesn't have the beat he needs for his groove. (He can bust quite an impressive groove.)

At three, his favorite book is If You Give a Pig a Pancake. We read it almost every night before bed and he still giggles at the pig getting sticky and needing a bath.

He loves to watch Blues Clues, the Wonder Pets or Curious George. He loves to play with "guys" in his Batman castle or pretend he is a super hero, flying around the house. Griffin loves hockey and play-dough. And he loves to pretend to build and fix things around the house.

Griffin loves food. He will try anything and everything edible. He adores veggies and would rather have a sliced apple than a cookie. He admits to not caring for the resident kiddie staple mac n cheese. Instead, Griffin's favorite foods are yogurt, sliced tomatoes, bananas, apples, grilled chicken and cheese sticks. He is an food enigma to us after so many years under Aidan's junk food reign of terror.

For most of his life, Griffin has remained a Daddy's Boy. But lately, he has been Mommy's little shadow, requiring that I be the one to get him dressed for bed, read him bedtime stories or snuggle up under a blanket when he is cold. I treasure this transformation, soaking up every moment my sweet, independent boy will give me.

Welcome to three our G. We love you dearly. No matter how big you get, how independent you are, you will always be my baby boy.

Chewy

Chewy may have won the dog lottery. He has wrapped the boys around his paw and receives more love than I ever thought possible. He has made the transition easy, adjusting to our new home, without much work. If we could just get him to stop chewing on the carpets and eating socks, life would be perfect.

The Annual Tree Day

As is our family tradition, we were off to hunt for a perfect Christmas tree the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We found the perfect tree for our living room and the cutest littlest tree for our landing upstairs near the boys' bedrooms. Our home is ready to be decorated with holiday cheer!