First Football

A few weeks ago we took the boys to the pre-season Kids day Bills football game. The boys were excited to see the stadium up close, view the players on the field and well, eat a whole lot of junk food.

They lasted all of half of the first period. After the whining and fighting got to be too much for all of us (and the people in front of us), we decided to head home. About half way into our walk back to the car, Griffin started projectile vomiting on the side of the road. (Good times, people, nothing but good times for our crew.) But for a moment, in between the whining, complaining, vomiting and fighting, we had a sweet family moment and snapped this shot:

This family looks like they are having fun. Let's remember the evening that way, shall we?

Hot is Not Just a Temperature

Aidan and I are chatting in his bed before bedtime about, what else, Star Wars. (The kid is like an encyclopedia on Star Wars. It just never ends. The only other topic getting any play from him lately is his fascination with ancient Egypt. I have no idea either.)

Aidan pats my arm and says to me, "Mom, you're hot!"

I nod in response and say, "It is hot in your room. I will open some of your windows to let some air in, okay?"

He laughs and says, "No. Not hot like that, but hot as in DEAD SEXAHY."

I am not sure I heard him right and say, "What?"

"SEXAHY, Mom. HOT! Like the Hot SEXAHY ladies, you know?!"

I was laughing so hard I couldn't speak for a good five minutes. I would like to thank Aidan's older cousins for imparting some of their extensive and valuable knowledge upon my not yet seven year old.

The Rocker

I listen to alot of music around the house. After I had Aidan, most of our music hours were consumed with children's music. He adored the Wiggles and Laurie Berkner. When we were not listening to the kiddie tunes, Aidan's tastes tended towards the more mellow, preferring the likes of Norah Jones. (He used to cooo over her songs as a baby.) Brennan liked any and all music. He could bust quite a groove to Dan Zanes and he would go crazy for a little Choo Choo Soul.

But of course, as it is always the way with the third child, Griffin was raised on my playlists, rather than his own. He wouldn't know Laurie Berkner if he fell on her, but he will pump his fist in the air with exuberant joy over the Killers. He likes anything with a hard, fast beat that allows him to bust a move around the family room. If music is on, he is bobbing his head, jumping in the air or twirling with abandon. But he also isn't shy about sharing his opinion about the music randomly selected from my ipod and will regularly demand I pass on Adele, Fiest or anything else that does not fit his rocker groove. If it's slow, soft or melodic, forget it. It just isn't Griffin's style.

My baby, the rocker. Let's just hope he doesn't try to transform his preschooler buddies into a band.

From the Mouth of the Middle Child

I am getting ready to go out to an adult dinner. Brennan, who would be happiest in a world where he is surgically attached to me, always gets antsy when he knows a babysitter is coming over. I hear him calling my name as he searches the house for me. He finally comes upon me in my bathroom upstairs.

"Momma, are you going now?" He asks me nervously.

"No B. Not yet." I smile at him, gesture to my unkempt hair, makeup free face and underwear clad self and say jokingly, "Do I look like I am ready to go out yet?"

Brennan looks relieved and says, "Nope. You don't look pretty at ALL."

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I am putting Brennan to bed. He grabs onto my hair, up in its ever present ponytail, and takes the elastic out of my hair. He pulls my hair around to the front of my face, looks at me seriously and says, "Wow, Momma, you almost look like a real girl!"

After I put the hair elastic back into my hair to make a ponytail, Brennan looks sad and says, "Now you are a mommy again."

Big Boy

Griffin has had quite a week. He has abandoned diapers in favor of Star Wars and Buzz Lightyear underwear. Apart from a few accidents, he is doing well as a member of the potty trained set. I am aghast at the thought of a world without diapers. It has been almost seven long years of life amongst diapers and now, finally, remarkably, this may all be coming to an end.

What? Did I cry? Over diapers? Come on now. Let's give me some credit now, shall we. I shed not one tear over the arrival of the underwear. Not a one. I swear.

But then we had to roll out the big boy bed. I was all set for the transition for our G from crib to the land of the twin bed. I pre purchased adorable sheets (Batman!) to charm him from his crib. And let's face it, Griffin has probably exceeded the weight limit for his crib from the time he turned one. At two and a half, it's time. Seriously, it's time.

Chris set up the bed this morning before joining us at the pool. When we arrived home and I saw the crib in pieces resting in the upstairs hallway, I couldn't help it - I cried. The crib - our crib - has lived in our house over the last seven years sheltering our babies. There was such a finality in seeing it taken apart. We're done with babies now. We have boys. Sweet boys who sleep in beds and don't wear diapers. (They also tend to pee anywhere and everywhere, but that's neither here nor there.)

Yes, I cried alot then. I thought I was all done with the tears, but then I went grocery shopping and cried in the baby aisle. I also teared up whenever a baby drove by in another cart. It's amazing no one called security. (Crazy lady in aisle five crying over baby wipes!)

Griffin loves his new bed. He looks comfortable and happy and all big boy now too.



(Yes, slightly blurry picture of new big boy bed is not due to parental tears of joy, but rather a camera that was almost out of batteries and kept shutting off during my Kodak moment. I persevered with the picture taking until it came through, albeit blurred. I need to spend some serious time learning how to use my brand spankin' new fancy camera that would never take blurry shots like my traitor of an old camera. But the instruction manual is so thick, I need a good day to figure it out. So, blurry picture of our G's big boy moment. Sigh.)

27, right?!

I keep telling the kids that I turned 27 yesterday. I am not sure who I am trying to convince, them or me because I'll be honest, 37 has the sound of 40 barrelling towards me more quickly than I would like. 37!

I spent the birthday morning with the boys. I got my behind handed to me in Wii tennis by my four year old. I then engaged in a battle of chess with my six year old. Aidan beat me in about eight minutes into our chess game. Apparently 37 means you can no longer keep up with the young 'uns.

After our morning entertainment, we headed to the pool for lunch and swimming. We soaked up the sun and heat, content with the very late arrival of a beautiful summer.

I spent the evening with Chris and friends, eating good food and drinking (much) red wine. And even better, was the sweet husband who got up with our boys this morning so I could sleep off that red wine until the ripe old hour of 8:45 am.

37. Let's just try and hold off the impending arrival of 40. That just may be too much for me.

All Tennis Weekend

This past weekend was the USTA Eastern Sectionals in Syracuse, New York. The teams competing were all the winning teams from their regions around the Eastern Division of the USTA. We were up against teams from New Jersey, Long Island, New York City, Rockland County and Cooperstown.

Our first day of competition was at the courts at Syracuse University. My nerves were jittery with excitement as I saw the people gathered to compete and to watch the matches. I truly felt like a real tennis player. (This feeling dissipated somewhat as I watched the men from the 4.5 level (which in non-tennis speak basically means they are unbelievably good) play matches right next to our matches. There may have been a (ahem) slight difference in our playing levels. Just a bit.)

I couldn't' t believe I was at Sectionals. I never imagined our team would win the Buffalo area and I know none of us believed we could prevail at Regionals, so to be at Sectionals facing all these talented players seemed almost surreal. I was proud of our team. And I was damn proud of me. I never knew I had any of this in me.

I played five matches in three days and faced physical exhaustion beyond anything I have ever experienced. There was a point in my second match on Saturday that I honestly didn't think I was going to make it. We were in an intensely competitive, physical match that left me serving one game for almost half an hour because we reached so many deuce scores. I had to chase a loose ball during that long game and I saw my friend Carolyn who had driven to Syracuse to see us play, watching me walk towards the ball. I gave her a long look through the fence and whispered, "I'm not going to make it." She told me I was. She told me to take my time fetching that ball and take some deep breaths. Her calm and confidence in me reminded me I had it in me.

I did make it. My partner Christine made it. (Okay, she also runs marathons, so perhaps, for her this was not the test of physical endurance it was for me.) At the end of that first unending game, she turned at my groan of relief, grinned back at me and muttered dryly, "Hallu-fucking-lueigh." That quickly became one of my more favorite quotes from the weekend.

That match was my favorite. We didn't win, but I played better tennis than I thought I could. I kept going even though I wanted just to curl up in a corner and take a long nap. I pushed myself further physically than ever before. I won two matches of the five I played over the weekend, but that match, that physically demanding intensely competitive, but losing match, will always stay with me.

As an aside, the match will also stay with me because of a little "disagreement" we got into with the other team over one of their calls. We had to call in the ump to work it out and when it was resolved in our favor the other team was none too thrilled. A few minutes after the resolution, I had a particularly good shot and our opponent said quietly to me, "Nice shot." Christine hadn't heard her, but knew she had engaged me somehow and bounded up from the service line, pumped up to all her 5 '10 height, leaned over the net to the other player and said evenly, "What did you say to her? "

It took every ounce of my willpower not to laugh hysterically at this new side to my very calm, non-competitive, conflict avoidance friend. It was fantastic.

Over the weekend, I learned alot. I cemented my obsession with tennis. I now have a to-do list a mile long of what I want to learn next to improve my game. I also laughed more than I have in a long time at the antics of my teammates and friends. I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to share my new obsession of this wonderful game of tennis.

You Just Never Know

We do not know the extent of our talents until we are challenged to expand our boundaries.

Aidan reminded me of this today as we sat at his swim banquet, gathering his swim meet ribbons and, the real hit of the night, his first swim team trophy. Aidan hated swimming when he started taking lessons at the age of 3. His fearful tantrums were legend among the whoville swim set.

This summer, he wowed all of us with his enthusiasm for swimming, his love of the swim meets and how quickly he grew into a truly competitive swimmer. He evolved from one of the slower swimmers on the team to one of the faster swimmers for his age. At the swim championship, he not only raced in his age for the freestyle stroke, but he did the six and under relay, and got bumped up by the coaches to also do the eight and under mixed relay.

The most miraculous part of his evolution has been his love for swim team. He loves the practices, the meets and the swimming. He has already asked to continue his training in a winter swimming program.

You just never know.

Swim Championships: In Pictures

So Much Good Wrapped Up in a Weekend

I don't know where to start. There was almost too much goodness wrapped up in our weekend. Lots and lots of goodness.

We enjoyed a fantastic dinner with friends on Saturday night, outside on the patio soaking up a perfect summer evening. As we finished up dessert, we found out there was a fireworks display scheduled that evening for a wedding reception being held in the same venue. For fifteen minutes, we were treated to an almost personal fireworks display that took off above our heads, streaking the night sky with color and light. It was perfect.

I barely slept Saturday night keyed up for the big tennis play offs for my tennis team in Rochester on Sunday. My teammates and I streamed into the Rochester tennis club for our matches bleary eyed and pretty nervous, only to meet our competition, the uber tennis squad. Their coach was screaming drills at the women as they ran laps across the courts. After their drills were over, they took turns trying to psych us out by giving us evil stares. I'd be lying if I didn't admit they freaked me out.

At the same time, I started humming the melody from "Eye of the Tiger." Yes, really. I blame my hubbie and Aidan for putting the idea in my head. But all cheesiness aside, the Eye of the Tiger humming and singing got us all laughing, even in the midst of the evil stares.

First match of the day: doubles with a new partner. We did not start out strong. We were both really nervous and things were not looking good for us. We lost the first set and were down 4-1 the second set. The next thing I knew, we had come from behind to win the second set 7-5 to force a tie-breaker. We won the tie-breaker 10-8. We took Rochester and their crazy drill running coach down, on to the afternoon match.

Second match of the day against Binghamton Region: doubles with my dear friend and more regular partner Christine. We are good partners because we embrace the fun in tennis. We are competitive and like to win, but we like to have fun more. And we had a whole lot of fun. A whole lot of 6-0; 6-0 fun.

Two competitive matches in one day was exhausting, but it was also exhilarating. After some disbelief and a whole lot of giddiness, we realized we are on to the Eastern Region Championships. Three days of tennis next weekend. Game On.

We celebrated by meeting up with the hubbies to see Jason Mraz on concert. And we toasted, of course, in our new USTA champion glasses. I am currently renting them out for special events.