The Sun Finally Came Out to Play

It has been one rainy spring. While I am grateful Whoville isn't prone to floods or tornados, the incessant rain has been tough on the spirits. My three very active little boys have been itching for some outside play time and the weather has not been cooperating. Finally, in desperation, they have managed some outside playtime in our giant mud-like backyard. Between the mud play leading to three mud covered little boys and the dog lying about in mud pits creating a 95 pound mudden retriever, my floors have seen better days.

I finally gave up on the floors, the muddy shoes, and the dirt covered dog. The mud wins. But, please, oh pretty please, can we see some sun again?

The forecast for our long Memorial Day weekend showed us a whole lot of sun. We endured the rainy Friday prelude with a three hour long marathon Monopoly match, content to know that tomorrow we would be at the opening day of the pool soaking up some rays.

Because the weather people never lie. No. And they are always reliable. (We should know better.)

Saturday morning, I woke up to clouds. I was a bit worried. But the weather people! They showed me sun! Five days straight of sun!

I tried to stay upbeat. I told the boys to get ready for the pool. I got my swimsuit on and packed the pool bag even as the clouds got darker.

I saw Griffin in his swimsuit, goggles on his head, standing in front of our sliding glass door watching the clouds quietly. And then the rain began to fall. Big fat tear drops, raining all over our sunny day at the pool.

Griffin turned to me with huge tears in his eyes and cried, "NO! I can't take it anymore! NO MORE RAIN!"

I shared his pain.

To perk the boys back up into our summer fun mode, I told them we would swim anyway. What's a few rain drops? We can swim in the rain! In fact, we will spend the whole day at the pool, rain or not!

I spent the first two hours or so at the pool huddled under some towels while the boys swam happily in a nicely heated pool. But finally, the sun started to break through the clouds. I have never been so happy to finally see the sun.

We soaked up another sunny day on Sunday. The boys and I were at the pool from 10 am to 4:30 pm! My little fishies of children didn't want to get out of the pool, but I promised them it is only the beginning of the summer with many more sunny pool days to come.

Memorial Day

We celebrated Memorial Day and its bright summer sunshine at our neighbor's backyard bash. Margaritas, diving competitions and brand new super soakers. Summer celebration at its best.

Take Me Out to TOO Many Ball Games

Three boys, three different little league teams. Oh holy hell. I knew not what awaited us in the spring of little league when I registered all three of my boys for baseball so enthusiastically this past January. But then the schedules rolled out and I sat down with my calendar to input the baseball schedules into our life. Three boys on three different teams equals a whole lot of baseball.

(Too much if you ask my opinion. But nobody is asking.)

I did look at the massive amounts of games, practices and little league stuff on our calendar, shake my head and immediately call my dear husband to commiserate the fate of our spring. After discussing it, we decided that we needed to make sure that the boys truly loved baseball and wanted to play little league, rather than falling into the trap of just doing it because everyone else seems to be doing it.

I gleefully considered that one, two or all of my boys may end up hating little league so much that they wouldn’t even want to sign up next year. I considered this so joyfully as Chris and I set up camp at the baseball fields on opening day, preparing for a marathon day of games upon games. We got to the diamonds around noon, and I knew we wouldn’t be home until after 7 pm. (We got home around 8 that night. In fact, we ate both lunch and dinner at those fields. And treats. And drinks. Damn, that concession stand does a mean business.)

But, here’s the thing. The boys loved it. Every single one of them had a ball.

Brennan had the first game on his Pee Wee Texas Rangers team. He played first base and scored the first out of the game. After the game, the coach called all the players over to the side of the field and presented Brennan with the game ball. My little B. It was a moment for him. He was so proud of his ball that he refused to let it go for the rest of the day and night.

Aidan had the second game on his Minors Cincinnati Reds team. I will confidentially admit that I enjoyed watching Aidan’s game the most. It was the first time I had ever seen one of my children play a *real” game that was actually competitive. Up until this point, the sports we have done are still in the cooperative and learning category, so they tend towards the fun, rather than keeping score. I was cheering and yelling just like a crazy sports Mom. And Aidan gave me a lot to cheer about. (I was cheering so much that I forgot to take any pics!)

It surprised the hell out of me to discover that Aidan can really play baseball. He scored outs, caught and threw balls with ease, and was quite the presence on the diamond. I could not believe it. I even overheard two of the parents asking who he was after a spectacularly good pop fly out he caught in his glove.

(Instead of pretending I hadn’t heard them discussing him like any cool mom would do, I smiled a HUGE smile and yelled “He’s mine! That’s my son! That’s my Aidan!” I make a lot of friends at these games.)

Our last game of the day was our Griffin on his Tee Ball New York Yankees team. He was just the cutest little player ever and possibly the most adorable catcher in the history of tee-ball. Tee ball is pure fun to watch. There is no competition, just a whole lot of laughs as the kids try to figure out which way to run on the bases and what do to with the ball if you actually get it in the glove. Griffin had a great time at his first ever official team sporting event.

Over the last few weeks we have been juggling the insanity of our spring baseball schedule as best we can. It has been made a bit easier due to the weeks of rain outs for both practices and games. But I see a few more marathon sessions at the fields in our near future, both this year, and probably many more to come. Game on.

Hilton Head 2011

As our group of friends was getting close to hitting the big milestone of 40, we made a collective decision that we would usher in the big 4-0 with a trip. A trip, chosen by the birthday celebrant, at which we would all partake.

This was Chris's year of 40.

At first, he started looking at adventure camps in Costa Rica that involved peeing outdoors, living in a tent and windsurfing. When I gently reminded him that he should probably pick something a little more agreeable to a group of friends (indoor plumbing and a tennis court maybe?), he decided he wanted to golf.

Golf it is! Our friend Dylan mentioned the lovely town of Hilton Head, South Carolina as a possible destination. Apparently, there is a lot of golfing in Hilton Head and a very fancy golf course which hosts some very fancy golfers that people watch on tv. I just heard beach! tennis! a kids free vacation!

Hilton Head it is! Happy 40 to my hubbie!

My dear brother Travis and wonderful sister in law Lynda agreed to move from their hip downtown lifestyle to the suburbs to live in our colonial, drive our mom-obile and parent our three kids and the dog. (They knew not what they had done. But I was not about to tell them. But I did thank them profusely. And I will continue to do so. Because, yes, they are the sweetest, most generous people to have done this for us.)

And off we went. We boarded a plane with our friends Dylan, Christine, PJ and Danielle to five whole days of kidless bliss. We were all a bit giddy.

Hilton Head is beautiful. It is green and lush, marked with paths carved out of a forest of trees. By the end of our trip, I was in love with Hilton Head. I even told Chris that I could imagine retiring there someday. It reminds me of the natural beauty of the northeast beach towns, but with a southern charm (and warmer weather.)

We stayed at the Inn at Harbour Town, a beautiful, small boutique inn with a golf course at its back and a slew of tennis courts and a tennis resort at its front. We had found our nirvana! Game on.

We spent five days doing whatever we wanted. The guys golfed five rounds of golf at pristine, championship courses. The women indulged in two hour tennis clinics each morning. (Well, I missed one day of clinics because I tripped down a bunch of stairs and sprained my ankle. I endured the "cankle", spent a day resting and reading, and was back out on the courts the next day. I know. I am shockingly graceful.) We spent each afternoon at the beach, napping or reading, watching people and enforcing a happy hour starts at 4 pm rule with frozen frothy drinks.

I loved the time with my friends. They can make me laugh until I cry. I am very blessed to have amazing friends in my life. We can talk about anything and everything, but also enjoy companionable silence while enjoying the view on a pristine beach. We are all so content with each other, a comfortableness that is usually only found in friendships of a lifetime.

But even more, I loved the time with my husband. It was a gift to have such a large chunk of time away from our crazy lives to just be ourselves with each other. Time to appreciate each other, to laugh with each other, and to fall in love with each other all over again.

I think that is the best birthday present any person could hope for any year, 40 or not.

Next year is my big 4-0. There is talk of Greek Islands in our future. 40 may not be so bad after all.

Recovering

The last month or so has been a bit busy. It started with a bang in April, after a moment of foolish volunteering that led me to chairing up the boys' school's basket auction for springfest. Me, who had never even put together a basket before was in charge of almost a hundred of those things. I learned quickly that clear packing tape makes everything look prettier.

Basket mania ate up a few weeks of our lives and then led us to a week before we went away to Florida for vacation. We came back from vacation and started little league. Three boys, three different teams. We are wracking up some serious quality time at the little league fields. On opening day, we ate both lunch and dinner at the little league fields.

And then two weeks after we get back from Florida, Chris and I were on the road again, but this time for an adults only extravaganza. Five days with no children. Just us, a few dear friends, a beach, a whole lot of tennis and golf, and a few margaritas mixed in for fun.

It was five days of paradise. Oh, the silence. The blessed silence of living in a hotel room with only your husband and nobody demanding a juice box or watching marathons of Cake Boss. There was also a whole lot of laughter. Laughter of friends, relaxed and simply soaking up every last moment of our vacation. We ate alot. We drank quite a bit. And we had whole afternoons where we did nothing but nap on the beach.

I love the naps on the beach.

It had to end. And we timed our ending so perfectly. We got home with one day to plan our hosting thirty family members at our house for brunch to celebrate Aidan's First Communion. I am really good at planning out our calendar to allow for maximum stress. It's a gift.

I was just grateful that the non-ending rain spared us from spending that day at three little league games, allowing us to actually clean the house and cook up some brunch fixings.

But now, the trips are over. (So sad.) Aidan has accepted his first communion and the family brunch has been survived. I hope we are settling in for our standard summer of pool, tennis, golf and our summer family fun list.

If only we can get through the rest of little league and the damn rain would stop already.

The Next American Idol

Not only does Griffin love music, but he has evolved into quite a singer. He sings around the house constantly. Sometimes his singing is for his own pure enjoyment and other times it is purely to annoy the hell out of his brothers. But sing, he does, day in and day out.

But as Griffin is our third child, the music he knows is not the music of of most four year old children, the likes of Dan Zanes and Laurie Berkner. No, Griffin's music is my music. And this makes for some very funny four year old singing.

I have already mentioned his love for Gaga, especially Born this Way. I don't think Chris has yet recovered from hearing Griffin sing "Don't be a drag, just be a queen" around the house. It has provided my cousins with endless delight to hear G belt out some Gaga.

This morning Griffin and I were the first ones up in the house. Griffin excused himself from breakfast to go to the bathroom. He shut the bathroom door and promptly got down to business. Through the shut door, I heard him humming and then he launched into a full scale performance of "Teenage Dream."

I am not sure that Chris is ready to hear his four year old singing "Let's go all the way tonight. No regrets. Just love." But sing he did. I just hope he isn't singing it for his preschool buddies at school today.

Coveting Bunkbeds

During our normal spring break trip to Florida, we stay with my grandparents. This usually requires that the boys spend most of the trip sleeping on the floor. But this year the stars aligned and school breaks overlapped, thus allowing the whole entire cult that is our family to head to the beach at the same time. In order to deal with the mass influx of visitors, my grandparents very kindly and generously rented condos for each family for their stay.

The boys and I spent the first part of our vacation at my grandparents. After Chris arrived, we moved into the rental. At the first sight of the second bedroom with twin beds, the boys went crazy. Their own room! With actual beds! And to top it all off, their own tv! (While yes, we are a tv loving family and all that, we hold firm on the no tvs in the bedroom policy, much to our boys' disappointment.)

At their incredible display of enthusiasm, I realized that this might just be the first time on vacation that they actually had beds instead of sleeping bags or air mattresses. Poor babies.

But, all celebrating aside, the room did only have two twin beds for three boys. So yes, once again, someone had to sleep on the floor.

After twenty minutes of arguing, pleading and negotiating, Griffin sweetly agreed to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag. One week and that boy never complained about the sleeping arrangements. Not a peep.

As we were driving home from the airport, I turned to Griffin and said, "G! You must be so excited to get your bedroom back and sleep in your own bed instead of on the floor."

Griffin looked at me sadly and shook his head. Then he said, "No. You know Mom, when I am in my room all alone I really miss my brothers. I get lonely. Do you think you could get me bunkbeds and then I could live in one of their rooms?"

My sigh over my third baby boy's sweetness was barely audible over his brothers' immediate yelling of "NO!"

It's tough to be the third boy.