Reflection

It is interesting as a parent to reflect upon your life with your children in years past. Each year there are things we do, as a family, that are the same in previous years. This sameness gives me perspective as to where we were and where we are as a family.

Chris has traveled on a guys' ski trip once a year since Aidan was four months old. I always want him to go and enjoy his time doing something he loves so much while enjoying the company of his buddies. I do. Really. It's just that when he gets back from his trip, I am so exhausted, mentally and physically, from my days as a single parent that I feel a tiny bit bitter.

I know. Bitter is not attractive or nice. But if I am being honest, I do. I usually feel a little bit of bitter with a tiny slice of anger mixed in to my haze of exhaustion. I think if you asked Chris, he would admit to all the same whenever I have gone out of town. It isn't easy to do the single parenting thing. But we want that happiness for our significant other and are willing to embrace the bitter and anger and exhaustion to give it to them.

Except this year, I have no bitterness or anger as Chris returns tomorrow from his trip to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Not an ounce. I still feel exhausted, but it's a happy exhausted. This year was easier than the past years. As with all things, as my children grow up, it gets easier to single parent, even when your husband is off on a ski adventure.

The boys are growing up. They like to help me. Brennan took over dog duties and woke up each morning to run downstairs to feed Chewy and let him outside. On Saturday, Aidan fed everyone bowls of cereal and cups of juice. (Aidan even mimicked me as he gave his brothers their juice. "And the cups all have the same amount everyone so no fighting!" It is funny to hear your voice coming out of the mouth of a seven year old.)

They will even insist that they let me sleep in on Saturday morning. I quote Aidan, "Mom, we let you sleep in!" He exclaimed as he nudged me awake.

"You did? What time is it?" I sleepily respond with a big yawn.

"It's 7:01!" The boys yell with a cheer as they climb into my bed.

Yes, 7:01. Quite a decadent sleep in.

And Griffin, well G is still our three year old. He woke me each day at 5 am, insistent it was time to get up. I am not an attractive mother at 5 am. (Much better at 7:01.) But even he was simply easier this year.

I think I have also matured as a mother. I have stopped playing the martyr and accepted help when it is offered. I used to spend alot of time hunkering down at home when Chris was out of town, declining offers of assistance, just wishing for the strength to get through it with minimal yelling. There was a part of me that thought I had to do it all on my own. But this year, I said "yes!" when my aunt offered to take the boys to a basketball game on Saturday afternoon. I said "yes!" when my brother and future sister in law offered to take the boys on Sunday morning for a few hours so I could get in some tennis time. And I even scheduled my cousin Nikki for babysitting on Saturday night so I could enjoy an early dinner and a movie with girlfriends.

It made the difference. I feel nothing but happiness at the thought of Chris returning home. Not an ounce of bitterness or anger underlying that joy. I like it. It feels really good.

Life continues to get easier with my boys. But I realize it's not just the boys that are growing, it's me too.

For the Love of Snow

While I get a little stir crazy for spring as March approaches, the boys adore the snow. They play outside for hours, building forts and throwing snowballs. They will only come inside when their faces are bright red and their coats are encrusted with snow. And there is of course, the promise of hot chocolate with marshmallows. That may be their most favorite part of winter.

8 AM on a Friday Morning

It is 8 am on a Friday morning. What should we do? Why, play twister of course. Why shouldn't we?

Clothes Horse

Griffin and I have fallen into a nice clothing routine.

At bedtime, I lay out his clothes for the next day and place them on his dresser so he can get dressed in the morning.

He wakes up in the morning, carefully puts the clothes I picked out back into his dresser drawers and greets me in a completely different outfit he picked out.

His choice of outfit requires one pair of pants with elastic and some sort of fleece material. No buttons! Nothing that is not soft or comfy! His shirt must feature some sports theme, preferably that of the Buffalo Sabres. If the Sabres are not available, he will wear the Bills. In fact, he continues to wear his Buffalo Bill sweatshirt that is sized at approximately a 2T in spite of it looking like a half shirt on him.

It's a mess. A big, huge, fashion victim sort of mess. And I would be lying if I didn't admit that it bugs the hell out of me.

I miss dressing my sweet little boy in adorable preppy little man outfits. I miss button downs and jeans, sweaters and cords, rugbys and chinos. Oh, how I miss them. I have barrels of clothes to pass on to my third child. Sweet, adorable, oh so cute little man clothes. But he will have nothing to do with them.

And yet, I continue to lay out Griffin's clothes, night after night, just hoping that tomorrow may be the day he decides he wants to dress my way.

I don't think I should hold my breath.

It Took No Time at All

Chris left early, early, early this morning for his guys' annual ski trip. I forgot to do my pre-trip ritual of analyzing the contents of our wine shelf to ensure I have ample supplies while he is gone.

That was a serious tactical error.

He hasn't even been gone for all of 12 hours and I have morphed into crazy, screaming, psycho mommy. ("No wire hangers! No wire hangers!")

I hate crazy, screaming psycho mommy. I don't even realize she is there, lurking in the shadows, until she has fully unleashed her crazy. And it is a hell of a crazy.

Thankfully, I have a piece of chocolate cheesecake with my name on it calling me from the fridge. It's not wine, but chocolate has been known to banish quite a bit of the crazy.

Four days to go. I hope patient, loving, sweet mommy makes an appearance tomorrow. We need all the help we can get here.

More on the Pup

One of my most favorite things about Chewy is how, without fail, he waits by the front door peering out the glass as he waits patiently for Aidan's school bus. There is absolute joy on Aidan's face when he walks up the driveway and he sees his puppy bounding towards him, tail wagging.

One of my other favorite things about our dear Chewy is how he has given my children such unconditional love. I witnessed this first hand when Brennan, fresh off a spectactular time out for some mischief, opted to drown his sorrow with a snuggle into Chewy's soft fur. There is nothing like a boy hugging his dog for comfort.

Now if I could just get the damn dog to stop eating legos, army men and WII REMOTES FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, life would be good. Really good.

Hibernation

I love winter because it slows life down for us. We hibernate just a bit and enjoy quiet weekends at home, reading books, watching movies, and playing games.

This weekend we had next to nothing on our schedule. I love the freedom of having nowhere in particular that we had to be or had to go. Chris got up with the boys this morning and let me sleep until the surreal time of 8:15 am. (Decadent in my life! 8:15 am is the new noon for a mom to three young boys.) After letting me sleep in, he greeted me with breakfast, a cheddar broccoli omelet, made special by "Daddy's Diner." (Hmmm, perhaps this spoiling has been brought on by his upcoming guys' ski trip? Maybe? I will soak it up regardless!)

After breakfast, we decided to pay a visit to our Whoville sledding hill. I laughed hysterically watching the boys take turns on the sleds. Aidan even brought his snowboard and took off down the slope at full steam. We then moved over to the adjacent playground where climbing quickly dissolved into a family snowball fight - parents vs. the kids. I spent more time laughing than I did making snowballs.

Tonight, we will embrace a nice quiet evening at home and perhaps a movie. Yes, I will be stir crazy for spring by March, but for now I am soaking up the quiet and peace of winter.

Insanity

Tuesday and Wednesday were insane days.

I work on Tuesdays and I also try to play tennis at 6 pm. This requires that I scramble out of the office at a frantic pace in order to pick up the boys and get them home in plenty of time to start dinner. I start dinner, get the boys settled, change out of my work clothes into tennis clothes, give a brief hello to the husband as he walks in the door and head back out to the tennis club.

I play for an hour and a half and return home starved. This past Tuesday, I ate dinner alone at the table reading a magazine, while Chris worked on his lap top in the family room. The boys were already asleep in bed. The phone rang and I opted not to answer when I glanced at the caller id and saw it was an unknown California number.

"Who was that?" Chris yells from the family room.

"No idea, some California number." I respond as I flip the pages of my magazine.

A few minutes passes until Chris yells back, "Oh! I almost forgot. Someone from TMZ called because they need a comment from you."

"What? A comment? What does that mean?" I asked, confused.

"No idea." Chris responds.

I finish up my dinner. After a few minutes, I walk into the family room, look at Chris and ask, "Isn't TMZ some celebrity gossip website?"

Chris shrugs his shoulders. "No idea who it was. They asked if you were available. I said no, that you were playing tennis. They said they needed a comment from you."

"That's weird." Just then, the phone started ringing again. Same California number.

I decide to check my work email. I log on to a number of emails and voice mails, all from TMZ. I get a little nervous, but decide it must be about the trademark applications I filed on behalf of one of the infamous cast members of Jersey Shore. I email our head of marketing to alert her to the media interest and contemplate if I should phone the client's manager.

I decide to wait and take a shower instead. After a quick shower, I come back downstairs as my cell phone beeps to alert a text message. It's from my brother Travis and it reads, "Have you seen The Smoking Gun today? If not, you should."

As my home phone rings yet again, I race to my computer to check out The Smoking Gun. And sure enough, the featured document is one of the trademark applications I filed. I was floored. Absolutely stunned.

I have to admit, it freaked me out alot. There is something paralyzing about seeing your name, your email, your phone number up on a popular website.

Our home phone kept ringing every fifteen minutes for another hour. I figured that while it was a little insane, it would all be over by the morning.

The next day I met with our head of marketing and contacted my client's manager to ask them if they wanted me to comment on the story. I was asked not to comment and we hoped if we simply ignored the calls they would eventually stop calling. The manager warned me it would probably get worse before it got better.

He was right.

The calls just kept coming. I put the calls into my voice mail and tried to ignore them. After I sent a number of calls to voice mail, the reporters called my firm's main phone number, lied to our receptionist and tried to get transferred to me. The reporters also called other attorneys at my firm, using their direct dial numbers, and tried to get transferred to me. After a few hours, a reporter even tried to get the managing partner at my firm on the phone to get me to comment.

Yes, ignoring it didn't seem to work. I had to call the reporters and give them an official "no comment."

In the meantime, the firm had to send out an email to the entire firm asking everyone not to speak to the media. It was completely crazy.

When I finally got the courage to call the reporter from TMZ, he tried to engage me by asking about my "tennis game last night." He was disarmingly kind and funny, but grew less so as he realized I had called to merely refer him to my client's manager. After saying nothing beyond, "Thank you for your interest" and "no comment," I got off the phone as quickly as I could.

The calls stopped until a few hours later when another reporter started calling. In the meantime, I got an email from my client's manager, forwarding a message from the reporter I had just spoken to on the phone. In it, the reporter claimed I gave him great comments on the client, including an outline of her business plan.

Crazy, right?! He outright lied in the hopes of getting the manager to comment when I had not. I may be a bit naive, but I couldn't believe the extents to which this person was willing to go to get someone to say something, anything.

I started forwarding messages from the rest of the reporters to my firm's head of marketing. She offered to call them back to stop the remaining calls.

It was a long, crazy, surreal sort of day, not the ordinary day for a intellectual property lawyer from Buffalo. Not at all.

From Skiers to Snowboarders

Chris was adamant that the boys must learn to ski before the snowboard. This resolve stayed firm right up until he went to a going out of business sale at a local ski shop. He returned with two kiddie snowboards, boot and gear.

And snowboarding it is. The boys were thrilled with their new snowboards and immediately had to try them out in the family room.

As an avid snowboarder, I think Chris was just as excited as the boys. He started them off with a lesson in our front yard. They were so adorable falling all over the place that any car driving past slowed to grin at them.

After the lesson in the front yard, Chris took them to the local free ski hill for a quick spin. They all returned exhausted, but still excited for their first official lesson the next day.


Their Sunday ski lesson has evolved into a Sunday board lesson and they are loving every minute of it. As skiers they had both moved up fairly quickly and joined the group that was allowed to go up the ski lift and down the hill alone. But now, as boarders, they have started all over and returned to the bunny hill to learn how to turn, to fall, and to get back up.


They love it. Chris has two little boarders under his wing and number three, little Griffin, can't wait for his turn at the slopes.

It's all the Hugs and Kisses

"Momma, you know what I really love about you?" Brennan asks me as I am putting him to bed.

"What B?"

"It's all the hugs and kisses. You give the best hugs and kisses."

I am going to remind him of this when he is a sulky teenager and forces me to walk two feet behind him in public places. Until then, I am hugging him and kissing him to death.

Rainbows

I was looking through Brennan's paperwork and crafts from his day at school today when I came across a beautifully colored picture of a rainbow.

"Wow, Brennan. This is a beautiful rainbow!" I say to Brennan as I gesture to the picture.

"What?" Brennan asks as he looks at the picture. "Oh, I didn't make that. Hannah made it for me."

"She did? That's really nice of her. It's a very pretty picture."

Brennan shrugs his shoulders, gazes at me with a sheepish smile and says, "Hannah says she is my girlfriend and I am her boyfriend. So she made me a rainbow."

I can't help but laugh as I nod.

"She's not my girlfriend Momma! But Hannah says she is, no matter what I say." Brennan pauses, looks at me thoughtfully and continues, "Actually, alot of the girls in school say they are my girlfriend and I am their boyfriend. So many! It doesn't matter what I say." Brennan walks off shaking his head.

I had noticed some enthusiasm among the girls in the class whenever I drop Brennan off. In fact, one day a group of girls actually started squealing when they saw Brennan and yelled, "Brennan's here! He's here" as they ran up to him and then demanded he immediately chase them. When I asked Brennan about the chasing, he smiled and told me the girls like to play a game when he chases them all around the room.

Yes, our B. has quite a way with the preK girls.

Getting the Game On with the Kids

Today, I discovered child care at the tennis club. Child care! Tennis!

I knew they had child care, of course. But I had relegated it to some option for mothers whose children actually do things like go to Wkids without requiring their parent be paged ten or so times during the hour long grocery shopping visit. I figured it would never happen for me. Not a chance.

But as my game has improved, so has my circle of tennis friends. Many of my tennis friends live pretty nice lives that basically consist of husbands who work, children who go to school all day, and a mommy who plays tennis everyday. (Sometimes twice a day!) My tennis friends have started asking me to play tennis with them on my Mondays and Fridays at home and this, well, it's a little bit like offering crack to a drug addict. How can I turn down a game?

Tennis! During the day! Oh my, the possibilities. But, first guilt set in. Mondays and Fridays are my mommy days with the boys. Is it fair for me to use this time for me? I wrestled with this for awhile, but as Chris gently reminded me, it is for all of an hour and a half. I have all day with the boys. I then reminded myself that tennis, while I love it, is still my exercise. I have a whole lot of guilt built into how much I enjoy tennis. You are supposed to hate exercise and if you love it, well then, it is selfish. But, I need to remember that exercise, in any form, is good. It is even better when you enjoy it. It keeps me healthy. And a healthy mom is a better mom.

But what to do with the kiddies? My tennis friends regaled me with wonderful stories of the child care available at the club. While it sounded lovely, they have never seen what I go through when I try to just use Wkids for an hour. I couldn't believe we could do it. But I took a deep breath and started to sell it to Brennan and Griffin like a saleswoman possessed by a greater power.

"Hey guys! Guess what?! On Friday, you are going to get to play in a very special room FULL OF TOYS at the place where Mommy plays tennis! They only let very special boys play in that room. VERY SPECIAL. And the toys are AMAZING! You will love it! Doesn't this sound great?! Doesn't it! It is!"

The boys stared at me with untrusting, wide eyes as Chris nudged me and told me I may be overselling it, just a bit.

I kept up my sales pitch right up until this morning when we left for my tennis date. The boys seemed underenthused, but we made it into the child care room without incident. In fact, after meeting the babysitter, seeing the huge window in which they could watch me play tennis to their hearts' content, and viewing all the new toys which they would have to themselves, they barely said goodbye to me.

I figured I would get called back in a half hour or so. My odds of a full match were not good.

As I played, I would see one of their heads pop up in the window every so often. Brennan and Griffin would wave to me, smile and then pop back out of sight. Time passed and before I knew it, the whole hour and a half was done.

We made it. (And I won too. Whooohooo!)

I flew off the courts, ran up to the child care room and was greeted by two smiling, content little boys playing happily with the tennis babysitter. I was floored. The babysitter assured me they were great, and told them she hoped they could come back soon.

As we left, Brennan asked me, "Can we come back to play again Momma? It was so much fun!"

I think we can have that arranged B.

Yes, and faster than you can say "game on", I had scheduled the child care for the very next Friday and accepted an offer for another match. I feel like I may have found my very own, little slice of heaven.

When I Grow Up

"Momma?" Brennan says as he hugs my legs.

"Yes, B?" I respond hugging him tightly.

"When I grow up," Brennan says with big serious eyes, "When I get to be big, I am going to be a person like a doctor but for animals."

"That's great B. You want to be a veterinarian!" I say.

"Yes! A veterinarian." Brennan nods and then yells to his brothers, "When I grow up I am going to be a veterinarian!"

"Mommy, when I grow up I am going to be a scientist!" Aidan chimes in, eager to share.

"Wow, a veterinarian and a scientist! That's great." I say with a smile.

Griffin runs over to me, "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

"Yes G?"

"When I grow up, you know what I am going to be?" Griffin asks me expectantly.

"No G, What are you going to be?" I ask smiling.

"I am going to grow up to be BATMAN!"

I like it.

Not Proud

I am not proud to admit that last week, instead of spending quality time with my children on our "mommy day" Monday, I instead put them in the bath to play so I could read the Stephanie Meyer unpublished draft of Edward's version of Twilight. My 17 year old cousin told me I had to read it. Just HAD to read it. I, of course, LOVED it. And I am 37. Oh, shame.

I am not proud to admit that I have made up a game that allows me to lie in bed and rest while the boys pretend the bed is a spaceship and we are on voyages to seek out the bad guys. The bed spaceship game usually guarantees me at least fifteen minutes of peace. In bed. Under covers. I just have to yell out "I see a bad guy!" ever few minutes or so. If it works, don't question it.

I am not proud to admit that I am horrifically and totally addicted to this season of the Bachelor. I can not stop watching this train wreck of a show where women declare their undying love for a man they met all of two days ago. I have to hide my face because I am often so embarrassed by their antics and the kissing. Oh, the kissing. I am like a shy 13 year old blushing and red faced, watching this man kiss woman after woman, as if they were his harem. I shouldn't watch it. I know I shouldn't. But I can't stop. It's a problem. I need serious help.

I am not proud to admit that I told Brennan and Griffin that the library was closed this past Friday because the very thought of going out into the cold and snow was too much for me to bear. We stayed inside in our pajamas all day long and played Gassy Gus instead. (There is nothing funnier to five year old and three year old boys than a game involving passing gas. Not a thing.)

I am not proud to admit that I made it through an ENTIRE HALF DAY AT WORK with the bottom of my pant leg tucked into my knee high. Yes, I did. Seriously. And not one of the guys I work with thought to mention it to me. I am amazed it took me almost four hours to notice myself. I am a style maven, me. Oh yes, I am.

I am horrified to admit that Aidan has lost at least three points off his math grade because neither Chris nor I can freakin' remember to sign his math homework sheet. I mean, really. What is wrong with us? This is sending my perfection obsessed child into a frenzy. I also threw out his homework by accident last month and had to email the teacher to apologize because Aidan was flipped out that he would drop a grade. I am a liability to my child's academic success. A serious, absent minded liability. It's shameful parenting.

I am not proud to admit that I finally, after hearing about it here, there and everywhere, watched an episode of Jersey Shore. Hey - I was born in Jersey. I can totally relate. (Yes, not so much.) I was, therefore, quite surprised to find out that my newest client is also a cast member on the show. Yes, I am almost like a lawyer to the stars. Almost. Maybe. Sure.

Mommy, Mom, Momma

Brennan calls me "Momma." He has always called me "Momma" and is the only boy out of the three to use that as my name. Aidan and Griffin call me "Mom" or "Mommy," but Brennan is my "Momma's" boy.

Tonight as I put Brennan to bed, he sighed, smiled and said, "I love you Momma."

"I love you too B." I said, as my heart melted with love for this sweet, joyful boy.

"Momma?"

"Yes B?"

"Am I the only one to call you Momma?"

"Yes B. You are the one and only!"

Brennan smiled, threw his arms up in the air, and yelled, "YES!"

My Momma's Boy.