Springfest

We had a nice, quiet kind of weekend. Aidan's school had a big fundraiser on Saturday - Springfest. A bounce house, kiddie entertainment, games and a whole lot of snow cones made the boys euphoric. Aidan was the big man on campus, reveling in his confidence in his school home. Within a few minutes of arriving, he was grabbed by a group of boys to play in a mini-sticks hockey competition and slapped high five by more boys than I could count.

Brennan was Aidan's sidekick, soaking up the school environment and reminding me once, twice, a few hundred times that he is ready to start kindergarten. Now. Anytime now. Please.

Griffin was thrilled to bask in the attention of his cousin Patrick. Pat is an 8th grader at Aidan's school. He loved showing off Griffin to his buddies and guided him from game to entertainment with his hand in Griffin's. It was beyond sweet.

After an hour of the Griffin/Patrick show, another mom from the school came up to me, smiled and said, "I am so impressed that Patrick will allow Griffin to hold his hand while he hangs out with all his friends."

I nodded and smiled as I watched my three year old gaze at his thirteen year old cousin with adoration. "Yes, Griffin really loves Pat. And Pat is a great kid to allow all the affection."

The mom squeezed my arm, looked into my eyes, and said, "It says alot about your family."

It does say alot about my family. A whole lot. And I am proud of every last inch of it.

All three boys gorged on snowcones. They may have eaten their weight in sugar coated shaved ice. They also had a chance to say hello to Sabretooth. (Always a highlight in our hockey obsessed town.)

Today, we were all a little bit spoiled by my brother Travis and my future sister in law Lynda. While they took the boys to the park to play and out to lunch, I folded a million and one pounds of laundry and then took an indulgent, luxurious nap on the couch. Just because I could.

There is nothing as sweet as a Sunday afternoon nap in a quiet house. Not even snowcones and Sabretooth.

Wishin' and Hopin'

I have begun the dreaded seasonal shift of the boys' clothes. It is a labor intensive project in which I spend hours upon hours going through stacks of clothes in three different closets determining what to keep, what gets passed down, what gets stored and what gets passed on to a friend.

Brennan and Griffin were beyond thrilled to see the emergence of their summer clothes. This meant, of course, only one thing: we must dress ourselves in bathing suits!

In spite of the 30 some degrees outside last week, my boys spent the day in bathing suits, t-shirts and well, of course, super hero masks. What's an outfit without a super hero mask? The UPS delivery guy really appreciated my superior mothering skills.

(I love seeing Chewy in the background of this last picture. He waits, patiently, for Aidan's bus to come around the bend. Without fail, he does this every afternoon. It is the highlight of Aidan's day. )

The Luck of the Irish

I always have a little bit of fun with St. Patrick's Day.

Leprechauns are known to do much mischief in our house and this year was no exception. Milk was stained green, toilet water turned green and small treats appeared at the boys' chairs for celebration.


Now that our affair with green and St. Patrick's day has passed, the boys have turned their sites to Easter. Brennan has become pretty suspicious over the whole idea of the Easter Bunny and shared his concerns with me at bed last night.

"So, at Easter, we get baskets?" Brennan asks when I tucked him into bed.

"You do! Baskets filled with Easter treats!" I reply with a smile.

"And who gives us these baskets?" Brennan asks wide-eyed.

"The Easter Bunny does."

Brennan gives me a long look, "So a bunny, a rabbit, gets us all that stuff and fills up all those baskets? All by himself? Really?"

"Yes." I reply, willing myself not to laugh, because honestly, it does seem a little ridiculous. "Who else would do all that?" I continued.

Brennan thinks for a second and then says, "I don't know. Some guy?"

Some guy. Sure. At least the boys haven't started questioning our belief in leprechauns. I have a few tricks up my sleeve for next year.

39

Saturday was Chris's 39th Birthday. The boys love birthdays, even when it is not their own. I had purchased several small presents for Chris this year and on friday, I let the boys select which one they would like to give to Chris.

I set them loose on the presents with wrapping paper, tape and markers. (This was a good time sucking activity for all of us. I may start to make up occasions that I need them to wrap things just so I can get dinner on the table.)

After the presents were wrapped, Aidan asked what Daddy had picked for his birthday dinner. It is the rule in our house that the birthday person gets to pick the what and the where of the birthday dinner menu.

"Well," I said slowly, "Daddy and I are going to go out to dinner with adults for his birthday and Megan is going to come over to play with you."

All three mouths flew open as they considered my response. Finally, Aidan said with some shock, "You are going to celebrate Daddy's birthday without us? Really?"

Ouch. To counter our growing guilt, we opted for a family celebratory dinner out at Duff's on Friday night. (Requested by Chris after watching and drooling over Duff's chicken wings on full display during the Food Wars on the Food Network this past week. )

The boys loved the wings, the games, and the chance to soak up some Daddy birthday celebration time as a family. I liked that I convinced them all we really needed ice cream afterwards. What's a family birthday celebration without a little Cold Stone?

On Saturday morning, Chris's parents offered to take the boys for a few hours to shop for new sneakers and do the rounds of the local toy store. Our romantic birthday morning involved shopping for new exercise equipment at the new Super Wal-mart. (We are lovebirds. We are.) Apparently, when you hit 39, you feel a renewed sense of purpose for living healthy. (But not before you indulge in a night of deep fried chicken wing goodness. Right.)

Later that evening, we set off for our adult birthday celebration with friends at Trattoria Aroma. Good food, much wine, and a great time was had by all.

39 looks good on my husband. Better than it will look on me. Let's not discuss my impending 38. Not a word.

What's in a Name?

The boys and I had a trip to the dentist last week. It was Griffin's first visit and he held up like a champ, jumping into the dental chair and opening his mouth wide without a trace of fear.

He never ceases to surprise me, my third child.

At one point the hygienist was making small talk with Griffin and asked, "Wow, you are the third boy? That is a whole lot of boys in one house."

"Yes it is!" Griffin replied with a wide grin.

"Does your mom ever get confused and call you by your brothers' names?" The hygienist asked.

"No, she doesn't," Griffin said as he shook his head, "But she sometimes calls me by the dog's name."

The hygienist burst into laughter when she caught my horrified face. Mother of the year.

Growing Up Overnight

I have moments when I look at the boys and feel as if they have grown up overnight. I felt this way with Aidan this morning as he prepared for a morning of snowboarding with Chris. He looked so confident, so excited, so grown up.

My handsome, first born son.

The New Work Out

We had a lazy morning today as the family gathered over an episode of Arthur in the family room. Chris and I sipped our coffee as the boys' lazed about in a tv coma.

Brennan walked up to me, gave me a hug and said, "Guess what I did this morning Momma?"

"What B?" I asked, as I ruffled his hair.

"I shot myself three times!" He said with a grin.

"You shot yourself?"

"I did. I shot myself three times in my wiener with my nerf gun. It will make my wiener big and strong!" Brennan yelled with a huge laugh.

Chris and I laughed so hard, we could barely muster a response.

Finally, I managed to say, "B, you shouldn't shoot yourself in your private areas. It will hurt you and it will not make you any bigger or stronger."

"Yes it will! My wiener is going to be so big and strong! I will exercise it so I can swing it and hit things with it!"

I turned to Chris, shot him a look and said, "This is yours to handle. All yours."

It's a new workout for the kid who wants superhero "wiener powers." Who ever knew nerf guns could come so handy?

Spring is in the Air. Really!

The boys still needed snow pants, gloves, hats and boots to play outside today, but I swear, really, that I could smell spring in the air.

Feeling Better Through Love

The last few days have kicked me in the butt and stomped on top of me, repeatedly and hard. My stress level is through the roof. I am irritable. I am angry. I am spending a whole lot of time wishing I worked at a book store. (I could rock a book store. Really.)

I crawled in bed with Brennan last night wishing for a moment's peace. He asked me what was wrong.

"I had a tough day at work today B." I told him with a sigh.

Brennan smiled at me. "Come here," he said as he reached across the bed to pull me closer to him. Brennan snuggled against me with huge hugs.

"You just need some love to feel better Momma." Brennan said with a smile.

Words to live by from my five year old.