A Special Lunch

I spent lunch today with Aidan. Once a year, his school hosts a special persons lunch and each student gets to invite a person or two to share lunch in the decorated, festive cafeteria. Last year, Chris went – and this year, Aidan decided he wanted me to go.

The parents get really into the lunch and bring special menus to please the kiddies. Parents come into the school bearing pizzas, take out bags and picnic baskets. There are also the brave souls who come to the lunch to purchase the cafeteria food with the students. (I am not so brave.) I brought Aidan’s requested meal of chicken nuggets, french fries and chocolate milk. (He’s a fast food connoisseur.)

The parents gather in the cafeteria and wait for the children to come in with their class. One by one, we watch the teachers usher in their students as they walk in a single file line. The students are dismissed in a mass, off to find their “special person.” It was wonderful to see the kids’ faces light up as they spotted their mom, father or grandparent waiting for them. Kids raced everywhere, jumping up to give hugs with glee.

Aidan and I gabbed with his friends and their parents while he ate. He sat as close as possible to me, hugging my arm, rubbing his hand against my hand and softly touching the back of my hair. Near the end of the lunch, one of the other mothers smiled at me and said, “He is such a sweet boy.”

He is truly such a sweet boy. There is a part of me that never wants him to change. I wish I could box him up and have him remain my sweet little boy forever, hugging my arm - just happy to be with his mom.

Cookie Jar

I have a love-hate relationship with parents' magazines. I love to read and have amassed a startling number of subscriptions to monthly reads, including several child-parent type mags. But to be honest, the parents magazines annoy me. They always profile these freakish parents who live and breathe their kids and come up with things that I would never even dream of in order to ensure a perfect universe in which to raise their precious young'uns.

(Like the one magazine that profiled the mommy who wanted her children to eat only organic veggies so she started a completely organic garden in her backyard, complete with her own COMPOST PILE. I mean seriously. Who has time to do this? Really? In this same issue, they also profiled a mother who keeps her grocery list on her blackberry so she can buy food that only has rebates back into her children's college accounts and is on sale. Ain't she thrifty? Now, when I go to the grocery store, I'm just happy if I remember to use a few coupons, the kids are alive at the end and I haven't harmed any innocent shoppers with my gigantic, extended kiddie friendly shopping cart. (After reading this issue, I think I both canceled my subscription and wrote them a letter asking if anyone who works at their magazine actually HAS any children. I doubt it.)

Okay, I digress. Every once in a while, one of these magazines does have a cute tradition or a tip I find helpful. A few months ago one of the blurbs was about creating a winter tradition of baking cookies. A mother wrote that she had a special winter themed cookie jar she brought out at the first snow and baked cookies with her kids to keep it filled all winter long. (Now this I can get behind! Cute cookie jar and baking! Yipee.)

I picked up an adorable snowman jar at Target and with help from the boys, we got a baking. The boys love the baking, they definitely love the eating and they love peeking into our cookie jar for a snack.

This afternoon, the cookie jar was empty. Unfortunately, our cabinets were also pretty empty. Using the ingredients on hand, we improvised a chocolate cookie with mini marshmallows. I wasn't quite sure how it would turn out, but we may have hit a home run. Aidan declared it his "favorite cookie ever." Brennan concurred that it was "the bestest cookie." And Griffin yelled triumphantly, "And I make it! I make the cookie!" before he took a huge bite.

The boys glowed as we filled up our jar with our creations. And I decided that maybe, just maybe, there may be some value to these parents magazines after all.

They had us at Limo Bus

Imagine a gigantic limo bus. Now imagine that bus filled with twenty four kiddies. TWENTY FOUR kids, ages 2 to 13. Would you want to be one of the adults on that bus?

Our neighbor organized an outing to Disney on Ice. But being our neighborhood, this wasn't just a plain ol' excursion to watch Mickey skate. Oh no. They rented a limo bus. They rented out the new local kiddie gym for two hours. We would feast on pizza, let our kids bounce and jump and run their heads off, and then, only then would we make it to Disney on Ice.

I'll be honest. Chris and I could not stop giggling when the whole shin dig was explained to us. Who lives like this? Who does this? But the thought of doing it was too tempting to say no.

And that is how we came to spend a Friday night on a fancy bus with two dozen children.

My boys were so excited at all of it that I thought they would burst from sheer excitement. We live across the street from the organizers, so when that giant bus pulled up in front of our house, Aidan and Brennan were squealing with glee. It didn't help their anxiety level that I was still in my pjs. (Don't judge. It's my Friday at home - an unofficial pj day in our house.) The boys kept screaming at me to get dressed already! We can't miss the bus! The bus may leave! We must get on the bus!

After we were on the bus, the bus traveled slowly around the neighborhood to pick up other families. It was very funny to see eight other families in their driveways waiting for their bus pick up.

We all loaded up, complete with drinks (both kiddie and adult), snacks and music, and headed to the kiddie gym. The gym is new to our neighborhood and we haven't had a chance to check it out yet. The boys loved it. It was pretty amazing. They climbed up rock walls and nets. They did uneven bars and rings. They jumped into a giant pit of foam cubes. Griffin did his first balance beam. A good time was definitely had by all. By the end of the playtime, they were all a sweaty, exhausted mess.

We refortified with pizza and headed downtown to HSBC arena. On the bus ride there, the organizers passed out favors to all the kids - large, swirly glass globes on sticks that played music and lit up in psychedelic colors. The kids went wild.

And then... Disney on Ice. While the other kids stared transfixed at the ice show, Aidan and Brennan kept up a running commentary the entire first half.

"Is this real Momma? Where's the puck? Where's the hockey guys? Is the ice real Momma? What are they doing? Who are these people? Why is that girl gliding around the ice? Who is she supposed to be? Did she jump? What happens if they fall? Do they get in trouble? Is she going to fall? Is she going to trip? How did they do that? Where's the music coming from? What happened to the lights? Who's back there? What's up with the castle?" Imagine all this and more (much more) for a good 45 minutes.

My personal favorite was two quotes from Brennan: Every time they ended a number or had a break in the music, Brennan would shake his head and yell, "Is it over? Now? Is it over?" Every. Single. Time. He also finished our entire bucket of popcorn. When he reached the bottom of the bucket, he sighed and said, "Wow, I hope no one wanted any more popcorn." And then he burped. Loudly.

Griffin, meanwhile was in awe. He oohed. He ahhed. He danced with his arms up in the air. I honestly didn't care much for the show myself, but to see it through Griffin's eyes and expressions was a delight. I could have watched his face all night.

When all was said and done, we didn't get home until 10 pm - a good three hours past our normal bedtime for the boys. I said a quiet prayer the boys would sleep in this morning.

I should have known better. I really should have known better.

Scenes from the gym portion of the evening:

Fore What?

Brennan asked to give me a kiss on my head. He lightly kissed my forehead, and then asked, "What do you call that part of your head momma?"

"My forehead?" I replied, uncertain.

"Forehead?" He said unbelievably, "I like to call it my egg head. Do you want another kiss on your egg head momma?"

Sure, B. Sure.

Snowy Friday

It is bitter cold here - so cold that you want to wrap yourself up in fleece and stay inside until spring. The 20 below temps made me cave to Aidan when he wanted to stay home from school. The thought of all of us, warm in our pjs, playing and doing nothing much at all was too tempting to pass up.

We stayed in our pajamas all day. We played Legos and space ship. We made home made chocolate chip cookies and ate them warm from the oven. And then we all climbed up into my bed, popped in a dvd, and snuggled under the covers to watch it.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

It was so perfect that I almost forgot about Brennan and Griffin's yearly appointments at the doctor's office. Reluctantly, we changed out of our pjs into more presentable attire to trudge through the cold to the doctors.

In an act of maternal genius, I scheduled both boys in a group appointment. It made it go faster, seemed to keep everyone much more calm and less scared. Brennan handled the exam like a champ. He is in the 95% for both weight and height. And he also appears to be colorblind.

I had a hunch he might be color blind for about a year, but the doctor confirmed it today. My poor guy. I am honestly not at all sure what this means yet, beyond the fact that Brennan will never be able to match his own clothes!

Griffin also did great with the exam. He is in the 95% for height - and off the charts considerably for weight. He weighs about the same weight as an average three year old. He is one solid little boy, who may just be genetically predisposed for the football career he is currently obsessed with. (He will only wear clothes related to or about football. This has narrowed our choices considerably.)

After the exams, we came home and had dinner. The boys begged to watch one last show before bedtime upstairs with all of us cuddled up back in bed. Chris came home from work and found us upstairs, all in our pjs, snug as bed bugs. It's a good way to spend a Friday night.

Foreshadowing

I was changing out of my clothes from work while Aidan and Griffin played in Griffin's room. Brennan was in the boys' bathroom on a potty break. After a few minutes, I heard the toilet flush. And then it flushed again. And again. And again. And quickly, it flushed again.

Remembering Brennan was the child in the bathroom, I got a tad worried and I hightailed it to the bathroom to check on things. I found Brennan hunched over the toilet, flushing the toilet with his head almost in the bowl, watching the water go down the drain.

"Brennan?! What are you doing?" I asked (maybe screeched... just a little.)

"The water won't go all the way down Momma. It's stays up. I think it's broken."

I looked over at the toilet, saw the water resume it's normal level in the absence of repeated flushing, and assured him it was fine.

Brennan gazed at the toilet thoughtfully for a long minute. He turned to me and asked with contemplation, "Momma? What would happen if a whole lot of toilet paper got put in there? Would it stop working then?"

"That's not going to happen, so it doesn't matter, right Brennan?" I said with emphasis.

"No, no. But, if it did? If somebody did put a whole lot of stuff in there?" He asked gesturing to the toilet. "If they did do that, would the water go everywhere? Would there be a whole lot of water running all over the place?"

"Brennan. We do not put anything in the toilet, okay? NOTHING in the toilet."

"Why? Why can't we?"

"Because, it will break the toilet. And you will have no where to go potty." I said with force.

"And water would go everywhere! All over everywhere!" He said clapping his hands and with one last backwards glance at the toilet he walked out of the bathroom.

I sense trouble flowing our way. Big overflowing, watery trouble.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: My Monday in a Nutshell

The Good: Tonight, rocking Griffin in my arms before bed watching his eyes close as I softly sang "Blackbird." I stopped for a moment when I thought he was asleep, ready to put him into bed, when he opened his eyes to look at me, smiled and said softly, "More singing momma. I want more."

More Good: Tonight, watching Brennan declare he wanted to give a hug to Aidan before bed, right before he jumped on top of Aidan in bed and tickled him. They giggled together for at least five minutes. There is no sound sweeter than that of a child giggling.

The Bad: The incessant smoke alarms going off periodically for an hour because I spilled lasagna in the oven. I had to open every door and window in the house to get them all (like five of them!) to stop screeching in unison. It's winter in Buffalo. I thought we were all going to turn into Popsicles. And my neighbors may think we are a tad insane.

The Ugly: Catching Brennan in the bathroom after he dropped his mini soccer ball in the toilet. He shrugged, grabbed it out of the toilet he HAD JUST PEED IN, and them WIPED IT OFF WITH HIS SHIRT. When I gasped and yelled, "Brennan?!" He looked at me surprised and said, "What?" Because in Brennan's world - that is completely acceptable hygienic behavior.

Just an Hour, I Swear

Chris and I start almost all of our nights out with the pre-function whining. We will whine about having to leave the house, or having to get dressed up or make ourselves look presentable. We will share jointly out loud to each other our fantasy weekend night - a night at home watching a movie. In our pajamas. And then we really up the ante when we talk about how great it would be to go to bed really, really early and wake up the next day refreshed from our perfect quiet evening at home.

The whining continues as we both get dressed, as we prepare to leave, hug the kids goodbye and bid farewell to the babysitter. We then, almost always, assure the babysitter we will not be longer than an hour, because, truly we just want to be home. Quite and comfortable at home.

We mean it. We do. It just never happens. Inevitably, once we get where ever we are, join in whatever festivities we have planned, we evolve into party people. I don't know how it happens, but the next thing I know, the night has stretched from one hour into many.

Last night was such a night. We were invited to a friend's 40th birthday party celebration - Vegas style. The invite specified dressy attire. I was cranky when I was forced to bust out the cocktail dress and make up. Chris moaned about having to wear a jacket. We promised each other - an hour, maybe two - but at the most, home by 11. Sure.

The party was fantastic. We were greeted by a life size Elvis and balloons galore. Upon walking in the door, you were given a raffle ticket and each half hour a ticket was drawn for someone to spin a giant wheel of fortune wheel for party favors. And these were not your grandma's party favors. Throughout the night, we saw people winning ipods, sabres tickets and gift certificates.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, including a guest who came dressed as Elvis, resplendent in a polyester jump suit. There were five black jack tables and a roulette wheel all manned by dealers. I played black jack for hours, laughing harder than I thought possible with a drink constantly kept full by friends or the waitresses. Chris and a friend were constantly running back and forth from our spot at the black jack table to place bets on roulette. It was pure mayhem and lots of fun.

At the end of the night, guests were asked to cash in their chips for more raffle tickets. The chosen tickets got a chance for thirty seconds in a cash machine filled with two hundred, dollar bills. I can not tell you how absolutely hysterical it is to see people with many a drink in them jumping for dollars at 1 am. Dollar bills were shoved into dresses and pants as people cheered and hooted. It was a riot.

We were home late. Very, very late. It wasn't the early Saturday night at home watching a movie we had dreamed about, but I think I liked my late night gambling in Vegas just the same. But next time, just an hour, or two, I swear. Really.

The Party Circuit

Aidan's first foray into the birthday party circuit was at the age of four. He had just turned four and while he had attended parties for children of my and Chris's friends, this was his very first invite solely for him and secured by him. It was quite an occasion.

The party was at the home of his buddy Seth. (not Uncle Seth, but Seth of the Whoville, preschool set.) When we arrived the rest of the party goers were jumping with glee in a giant bounce house. The boys called to Aidan, but Aidan shook his head and clutched my legs in fear. He basically spent the first half of the party hanging on to my legs or my arms, scared to death at the whole thing. We watched all the other kiddies bounce and play, make crafts or swing, but Aidan was resolute in his determination to stay attached to me.

He started to warm up about half way into the party. He may have even let go of me for a brief exploratory moment or two, right up until he had to go to the bathroom. And that's how we spent the second half of the party. In the bathroom.

While all the other kiddies ate birthday sheet pizza and sang "happy birthday", I stayed with Aidan who was working out one hell of a poopie. He literally SCREAMED during most of the bathroom experience. ("Oh this is a hard pooopie! Oh Momma, this poopie HURTS. It's a horrible poopie!" - all yelled at the top of his lungs no matter how many times I pleaded with him to lower his voice an octave or two.) I prayed the other parents couldn't hear us over the celebratory din, but sure enough when we finally emerged into daylight, I caught the smirks and grins on the other parents faces. We were a playground story in the making, I am sure.

Today, Brennan had his first birthday party for a friend from school. Brennan is also four. And while he has attended parties for the children of our friends, this was his very first party outing that was all about him. He reveled in it from the minute he opened up the invitation. He pranced with glee when he said goodbye to his brothers this afternoon and explained to them with a slight air of superiority that he was off to a party. For his friend. His party. And he would eat cake. With his friend. At his friend's party. (I am not exaggerating. It went on like this for days.)

We got to the party. Brennan ran into the party without a backward glance to me. He barely said goodbye. And when I said goodbye to him, he gave me a half wave and barely noticed. He stayed at the whole party, without me or Chris, for an hour and a half. I am still a little shell shocked at how easy the whole thing was to do - for me and for Brennan.

We Present Our Drummer Boy

Aidan was devastated when his Christmas pageant was canceled due to a snowstorm. He was ecstatic the teacher rescheduled it for today. The Little Drummer Boy got to make his debut after all. (And the costume of choice for the Shepherd/drummer boy set? Towels! Teachers are geniuses.)

(And I swear, I only cried once. Watching the first graders, in their costumes, signing and singing Silent Night would have been an emotional moment for the strongest of people. Truly.)

Acceptance

One of the things I try to remember as a parent is to take my children for who they are and not who I want them to be. I repeated this often to myself as a mantra when Aidan would cling to my legs for hours at birthday parties while all the other boys would run off to play, leaving their moms happily forgotten. He is my slow adjuster. He warms up and will be off to play eventually, but it will take him more time than the other boys. And that is okay. This is who he is.

I haven't had to use my mantra for a while, well, until today. Today, I got Aidan set up at the kitchen table happily working on math problems and spelling words. In order to keep the other two munchkins busy I set Griffin up with coloring and Brennan up with tracing letters.

Brennan is fantastic at tracing letters, but he would prefer to stay in the dark about the actual names of the letters. Who needs pesky names anyway? Brennan doesn't. He could care less. Letters, schmetters. And deep down, this drives me insane. How can he not care? How? I realized that I am better at parenting the child who can't wait to show you what he has learned, who is eager to learn more and who wants to be the best at his letters, his words and his math. But this isn't Brennan. Brennan marches to the beat of his own drummer. And I must remember who he is, and not who I want him to be.

I haven't quite figured out how to get Brennan excited about learning. But for now, I am resolved to keep at it, with my sense of humor intact, and my mantra handy. Because the truth is, I love him for who he is, my sweet four year old little boy and I wouldn't want to change a thing. Letters and all.

Popcorn Fest

We had a lovely family day today. We shortened up nap time and took the boys to a movie, Bolt, and out for dinner. The movie was cute - truly just an excuse for the kiddies to gorge on popcorn. Brennan looked crestfallen when the closing credits ran across the screen, grabbed my hand and asked me, "Momma, Can we please do this again, soon? Please? I love this."

How can you deny that boy a thing? Really.

After the movie we went out for dinner. We each got our drink and egged on by Griffin had to toast each other with "cheers" before any of us could take a sip. The simple act of watching my family toast each other with chocolate milk across the dinner table was enough to put a smile on my face for the rest of the night. That, and the joy in which Griffin greeted his side of broccoli.

"Broccoli! Broccoli! Yum, Broccoli!" He yelled with pleasure as he feasted. There is something amazing about having a child who loves up many a fruit and vegetable and treats them as a delicacy. I think Aidan shuddered, ate a french fry, and acted generally disgusted by his baby brother's appetite for all things wholesome.

We ended the night with a sloppy kiss showdown between Brennan and me. Upon hearing the giggles, Aidan ran into the room, jumped into Brennan's bed and joined in the mess. My cheeks became a slobbery, well kissed mess after my boys were done. I told them both I would give them each one last, sweet, non sloppy kiss to end the night. At my soft kiss good night on his forehead, Brennan sweetly smiled and said, "That was the kiss, Momma. I loved that kiss. I'm going to rub that one in to make it last."

I loved each of their kisses. Even the slobbery, slimy wet ones. I only wish I could rub each of them in to make them last.

High, a Low, and a High

Motherhood is life amidst many a high and a low. I spend most of my life wanting to eat my children whole such is my love for them. This all encompassing, overwhelming love in which you believe they are truly the moon, the sun and the stars all wrapped up in this adorable package for you to love unabashedly. Love in its purest, most beautiful form.

And then there are the lows. The lows in which you question how the hell did I get here. Here! Among the noise, the yelling, the fighting, the incessant whining. How did I get here? Here! A life where I am a slave to requests for more milk, feed me, he hit me, help me, wipe me, blah, blah, blah, whiny, whiny, blah. How did I get here? Here! A place where my needs don't matter at all to the child set.

The lows are the worst not only because they are the lows, but because you hate yourself for the sheer existence of the lows. A good mother never has lows. A good mother dances through her day loving each moment with her children. How dare I not feel blessed and perfect? Pile a huge mountain of guilt on top of the lows and your shoulders are horribly weighed down by the burden of it all.

In the midst of the lows today (the fighting, the whining and the yelling - nonstop), when I felt as if my head was truly going to explode, Griffin caught my eye, smiled at me and yelled, "My Momma!." He ran to me with his arms wide open and a huge smile on his face. Without hesitation, he jumped up into my arms, hugged me close and said again, "My Momma." He put his head on my shoulder and held me as tight as I held him.

I breathed him in deeply and just like that I was back to the high. The highs make you forget all about the lows. The highs make it all worth it.