Parental Controls

"Mom, can I watch a movie?" Griffin asks me from the playroom.

"Sure. Let me just finish unloading the groceries and I will get in on for you. Two minutes." I reply.

A minute goes by before Griffin pops his head out of the playroom door and says nonchalantly, "The parental password is 7812 right?"

"What?" I ask, walking towards him.

"For Netflix? Isn't that the code?" He says. I stand in the doorway and watch him expertly entering the code and moving on to select his movie.

I am so glad we opted to put the parental controls on our netflix for the kiddies. It has been a huge deterrent to my five year old. HUGE.

Firsts in February!

The last official day of February break was also a day of firsts for our family. Griffin was off to his first Sabres game with his buddy Ryan, accompanied by the Dads, Chris and PJ. Meanwhile, Aidan and Brennan were off to their very first sleep over with their friends Ellie and Casey.

This left me unexpectedly kid free on a random Friday night. I am grateful for my brother Travis and sister in law Lynda who will entertain me with a night out of chinese food and wine, followed by some shopping. (Poor Trav who had to follow Lynda and I from store to store while he listened to the Sabres game on his phone.)

The boys all loved their night of firsts. Griffin had a riot at his first hockey game - lots of dancing, cheering and eating a whole lot of junk food. He proclaimed that the best part of the game was the ice cream they deliver right to your seat! (It's one of my favorite things about the game too. Kids got good taste.)

Aidan and Brennan returned home looking happy, but oh so sleepy Saturday morning. They pronounced the sleep over a huge success and are already planning the next one. (I have a feeling I get to host the next one. No wine, chinese food or shopping for me. Uh oh.)

I Lived to Tell the Tale

After making our own paper plate tennis rackets, mini-pudding pies, playing a whole lot of balloon tennis and rocking out to loud music for some freeze dancing, it was time for a movie. Ah, popcorn and the silence of six children fully engaged. There is no sweeter sight or sound.

Winter Break!

Ah, winter break. My least favorite time of the year. I honestly feel like the teachers devised a week off in the dead of winter as a form of punishment for the parents. There's nothing like a group of kids stuck inside a house for hours at a time to give you perspective.

Thankfully, my break crew sprang into action once again. Parents helping other parents by taking their kids for a day here or there, so we can all get through it together. I started my week on Monday by taking my friend Angela's son David, along with my three for the day. After a morning of wii, air hockey and nerf battles, we went out to lunch and visited Barnes and Noble for some books.

On Tuesday, Aidan and Brennan were off to David's house while Griffin went to preschool. (God bless all round pre-k that doesn't observe breaks.) They spent the day bowling and eating chicken wings.

On Wednesday, Aidan and Brennan were off to my dear friends Christine and Dylan's house to play. Christine had to work, so Dylan took on Daddy Daycare and entertained the kiddies with wii and burritos at Moe's.

On Thursday, Chris's aunt took the boys for a half day until Chris took over.

And now, we are at Friday, the last day of the winter break. I will entertain six kids at my home for the duration of the day. I am armed with balloons, paper plate crafts, mini pudding pies and a whole lot of patience.

I can also guarantee I will drink wine tonight. Yes, that is a certainty.

Love and Other Things

"Mommy, I love you." Griffin says to me as he puts his head on my shoulder.

"I love you too G," I reply, giving him a squeeze.

He smiles up at me and says softly, "I am going to toot now."

Great. Of Love and Gas. Such is life with boys.

Will You Be My Valentine?

Modern Family - a Primer on Life

I borrowed Season One of Modern Family on DVD from a friend and decided to let the boys watch a few episodes. I figured if it got too inappropriate, I could turn it off or skip over parts. The first and second episode of the series focuses on one of the families, a gay couple, adopting a baby from Vietnam. After several of the characters had used the word "gay" a few times, I paused the DVD.

"Do you guys know what the word gay means?" I asked the boys.

They all shook their heads. I explained that one of the couples, the two men who had adopted a baby, were married and because they were both men, they were considered to be gay.

Aidan looks at me confused, "What? I thought those guys were just two very close friends. They're married?"

"Yes, they are married. " I replied.

"I don't get it." Griffin interjected. "They are two boys and they have a baby. How did they get the baby out of them?"

"Well, the baby didn't come out of either one of them. They adopted the baby." I told him.

"Wait. They bought the baby?" Griffin yelps.

Oh dear lord. It's like we were watching two entirely different tv shows.

It Just Always Happens This Way

Chris wasn't even half-way through his flight to Jackson Hole for his annual guys' ski trip when Griffin started throwing up.

Yes, I must ask, what exactly is it about single mommyhood that makes my children projectile vomit. Because, seriously, every. single. time. I take on my brood alone some one pukes. It is never pretty. It is never clean. And it almost invariably involves me losing a night or two of sleep.

Daddy leaves and we must puke. That is my children's motto.

After the first round of vomiting from G, I tried to convince myself that it was something he ate or maybe his ear infection (yes, he has a double ear infection too. Score!). I like to try and pretend that I don't really know what is coming down the pike, even when, I probably do know. But then Griffin let loose an abundant round of projectile vomiting that kept him frozen in horror and sent a nice steady stream of vomit anywhere and everywhere around the kitchen, including all over the dog's bed.

(Instead of sweeping G up to get him to the bathroom to minimize the damage, I stood watching him transfixed by the sheer amount of liquid streaming from his mouth. I couldn't move. I am not good in a crisis.)

When it was over, I cleaned Griffin up, calmed him down and settled him on the couch with a nice big bucket. I surveyed the damage in the kitchen and then texted Chris:

"Bad news: Griffin just projectile vomited all over dog bed. Worse news: your running sneakers were on the dog bed."

Meanwhile, my other two children were upstairs huddled in their rooms. I have definitely instilled in them a healthy dose of respect for the catchiness of the stomach flu and therefore, they run for the hills at the sign of anyone throwing up. (They do this in school too. I like it.)

We survived G's stomach bug. But instead of being relieved it was over, I spent the next two nights tossing and turning, utterly convinced that any little noise was the sound of one of my other children inevitably throwing up. (But it never happened. KNOCKING ON WOOD and SAYING A PRAYER, amen.)

But now I am tired. Oh, so very tired. I look forward to my husband returning and taking over vomit watch for me. Not that he needs to, of course, because it is guaranteed that if he is home, the children will remain healthy and vomit-free. (KNOCKING ON WOOD and SAYING A PRAYER, amen.)

I Love You More

Whenever you say "I love you" to Griffin, he always replies, "I love you more."

Of course, I have to assure him that no, he does not indeed love me more because "I love him to the moon and back."

He will grin and say with mischief, "But I love you to the moon and back and around the earth to the sun."

He can go at this game of who loves more for as long as it takes, one upping me with his zany creations intended to prove once and for all, that he loves me more.

We were engaged in a who loves who more competition a few days ago over dinner. After a few exchanges, Griffin smiled, laughed and said to me, "Well, I love you more than a toilet seat."

The entire family erupted into laughter. It was just too good. It has quickly become our catch phrase, the last words uttered before bed, the last goodbye, and the last devotion of love before the day begins. "I love you more than a toilet seat." Sweeter words have never been spoken.