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.

Potty Power III: The Return of the Potty

It's that time again. That horrible, no good time. The time when Chris and I have to actually put some effort into potty training a child. And let's face it. We sort of suck at the whole potty training thing. We are half hearted potty trainers. Sure, I can rock out the Potty Power song, and sing my heart out about "doing it yourself," but at the end of the day, the truth still hurts. I hate it and I'm not good at it.

I was putting some effort into our own episode of The Return of the Potty a few days ago. After Griffin wowed me with his potty prowess and managed to eek out some business on the throne, he turned to me, smiled and said, "Mommy, are you just SOOOO happy right now?"

I interrupted my humming of "potty power!" to assure him that yes, I was just soooo happy at his potty efforts.

He clapped his hands, helped me pull up his pants and said, "Good, because now you are my princess! My Potty Princess!"

"Wow, a princess? Really?" I asked laughing, "And a potty princess at that?"

Griffin nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, what does a potty princess get to do anyway G?" I inquired.

Griffin thought for a second and said, "You get to wear lots of special hats."

That's me. The potty princess rocking it out in her special hats. Potty Power to all!

Insanity

You think I'd be used to it by now. But the craziness of summer has wiped me out. We spent our weekend running from one engagement to the next, kids in tow. We didn't stop running until Sunday night and unfortunately for me, I had to work this morning.

We started Saturday with a tennis lesson for the boys. After tennis, we hustled home to change and hurry on to church for a full mass in honor of my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. After mass, we stayed to hear my grandparents renew their vows. My grandmother's eyes glistened as she barely whispered out her vows to my grandfather. I only hope to be as happy after fifty years.

We had a family luncheon after the renewal ceremony. Then we hustled home, again, to change for a birthday party. Pizza, cake and gymnastics oh my! I pleaded exhaustion after two hours of trampoline fun and told Chris he had to head on out to our last party of the day (night) alone. I tucked the kiddies and myself into bed early.

We spent Sunday morning at a surprise birthday brunch. Aidan had a golf lesson in the afternoon, followed by a tee time for Chris. I snuck in some tennis. We finished up with dinner at the pool with a side of swimming. (Required when you haven't found time to grocery shop in almost three weeks.)

It hasn't been a particularly nice summer in the Northeast - rain, rain and more rain has led us to believe we have relocated to the Pacific Northwest, but not even the rain and a few clouds has slowed our Buffalo summer down.

It was the Bathing Suit

After a year and some of swim team and many years of swim lessons (screaming his way through at least two years of those), Aidan made his swim meet debut this evening.

There is a swim team uniform, that I, of course, forgot to buy until this afternoon approximately one and a half hours prior to the meet. (I am nothing if not organized. Well, okay, in all fairness to myself I did try to buy it yesterday,but my car broke down in a crowded intersection on my way to the store and well, that's a story for another time.)

When I brought home his fancy, schamncy speedo swimsuit, Aidan's eyes lit up like he won the Olympic medal. He's a swimmer and he looks like one too. He pranced and preened right up until we left for the meet.

When we got to the meet, Aidan confessed he was nervous to swim. I, honestly, was just as nervous for him. The mass of people, the popping of the start gun, the loud announcer - it can all be really overwhelming. My heart thudded as I watched him preparing to dive off the block. He, however, looked calm and composed while he waited for the start.

True to form, Aidan surprised us all, even himself, and took first place in his heat. First place to my baby! I was embarrassingly proud of him. I was that mother, cheering as I ran along the pool, dodging people along the way. I yelled too loud, was too excited, and loved every single second of it.

I was proud of his confidence and proud of his joy. After the match, I heard him tell our friends Christine and Dylan that he only went that fast because of his new bathing suit. Yep, it was all the bathing suit alright.

Perspective

I had a freak out this morning. Our house is a disaster. And well it should be, since there is no time to pick up or clean up or do anything else that is required to maintain a home. We have barely had time to stop home to change or even sleep since we have returned from vacation. Summer activities are in full swing, friends and relatives from out of town are visiting - life is go, go, go!

Whew! So this morning, bright and early, I decided that I should make time to clean the floors, vacuum the rugs and scrub down the bathrooms. I had about an hour to squeeze it all in before the boys had to get to swim team and swim lessons. Rock on. It could be done, right?! Right?!

No. It can't be done. I am the queen of setting expectations for myself that simply can't be met. I get frustrated when I can not meet these expectations and then end up snapping at my children in the heat of the moment. Our hour of lazy Monday morning soon evolves into a stressful, crazy yelling Mommy morning. It's not a good look for me.

By the time we got to the pool for swim lessons, I felt like the worst parent ever. The worst, yelling impatient mean parent ever. After a few minutes of getting the boys settled, one of the other pool mothers walked over to me, smiled and said, "I just don't know how you do it."

I smiled back at her and laughed because she has three boys of her own, all the exact same ages as mine. I replied, "I don't know how WE do it," as I gestured to include her.

She shook her head and said, "No. Your boys are so sweet. They sit with you and listen to you. They'll eat lunch with you and chat with you. My boys don't do that. I don't know how you get yours to do all that, to act like that."

I smiled gratefully at her and thanked her. I told her I really needed those kind words to remind me what is important. Summer days full of sweet boys, my sweet, darling boys, are important. Clean floors, vacuumed rugs and scrubbed down bathrooms - not so much.

Best Vacation

I am not sure I can put into words how wonderful our vacation was to the Outer Banks. After several days of beach and pool, of constant attention and love from a multitude of family members, Aidan turned to me and said intently, "This is the best vacation in my entire life."

I have to agree. I know I love my family. But there are times when I am immersed with them that I am overwhelmed with the fierceness of that love and how far it extends. The opportunity to see my family through my children's eyes, watching them as they are loved up by their uncles, cousins, aunts and grandparents - well, that is, to me, what life is all about.

We spent a week forgetting life includes having to put on shoes to go outside. The boys took all their showers outside next to the pool. Aidan learned how to play poker. All three boys stayed up way past their bedtime to chase crabs in the dark with flashlights on the beach. There was skim boarding and surfing and digging giant holes in the sand and collecting mini-oysters.

Our house was unbelievable. It was big enough that 28 people never seemed like too much. There was a game room with pool and foosball, a media room with video games and movies and sitting rooms galore to host our many board game sessions. (I learned I apparently suck at Scattegories. My cousins kicked my behind.) The boys loved having their very own pool and two hot tubs. I think they spent more time in the hot tubs than I did. Brennan could not get enough of the elevator and preferred to spend his mornings riding it up and down the three floors.

I documented the geezers vs. young uns as they took on both basketball and volleyball. Both games provided more than enough entertainment for the giggling spectators. And of course, I loved, once again, beating Seth and Travis in doubles tennis. Victory is sweet.

Each family was assigned a night to cook dinner for the group. Our night, Thursday night, was Mexican Fiesta. We had party favors of sombreros and chili pepper necklaces. We had Mexican tablecloths, a cactus cooler and even a hanging cut out for people to take pictures as flamenco dancers. Chris, Seth and Travis manned the grill and pool bar with mustaches and good humor. Travis even prepared a play list of Mexican tunes to groove by the pool. And there were, of course, margaritas in generous, oh so yummy quantities. Ole!

At the end of it all, I cried as we packed up the car and said our goodbyes. I didn't want to leave the beach, the house or most importantly, my family. As I brushed the tears away, my cousin Alli grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye and said, "You know most of us live like right across the street from you, right? I mean, I think we even have plans to see you all tomorrow."

She's right. They do. But I loved having us all together, there, on the beach with nothing to do but enjoy each other. It was a perfect vacation.

Beach Baby!

I have a day to pack up my stuff, the boys stuff and all the other assorted stuff I have convinced myself we can not live without for a week. In this day, today, I also have to take the boys to swim team, swim lessons, soccer practice and a soccer game.

I also need to clean my car. Ugh. My poor car has completely succumbed to the title of family vehicle with wrappers and debris, lego men and transformers littering every available inch of floor space. And did I mention that Griffin gets car sick any time he rides in the car over twenty minutes? Yes, my car doesn't smell all that good either.

Instead of doing any of this, I am drinking coffee, perusing blogs and reading facebook. Denial is a wonderful thing.

Beach vacation? What beach vacation? 12 hour drive? What 12 hour drive?

I need to kick into high gear. Beach, baby! Beach!

The Wardens

My gift to Chris for Father's Day was time to himself. I think we reach a point, particularly after having children, when time to do as you please is truly the best, most indulgent gift.

He was at the golf course by 7 a.m. and did not return until almost 4 p.m. I think he liked his gift.

The boys asked once or twice where Chris was throughout the day, but after hearing he was golfing, they were content with the explanation and did not inquire further. Daddy golfs and to them, that is good.

On Monday evening, I had plans to meet a friend to play tennis for an hour. As I prepared to get up from the dinner table to get ready to hit the courts, the boys were not pleased.

"Where are you going Momma?" Brennan asked for the third time.

"To tennis Brennan. Mommy is going to play some tennis for a little bit."

"For how long?" Aidan asked gazing at me seriously.

"Hmmm, I don't know. An hour maybe?" I replied.

"So, does this mean you'll be back to put us to bed or not?" Brennan inquired.

"Not sure - I will definitely come up when I get home to give you kisses though, okay?"

"But when?" "Will I be awake?" "Can you wake me up?" "Who are you playing tennis with?" "Are you only going to play tennis or do something else?" "Are you coming right home after?" "Are you leaving right now?" "Can't you stay longer?"

At this, I stopped answering their questions and burst into laughter. I gave Chris a mock glare and yelled, "Okay everybody, Daddy was gone for like 12 hours yesterday and no one says a word! I only want to leave for an hour guys!"

They didn't find it funny. Not funny in the least. My three little wardens. At least they're cute.

Backyard Bliss

Rain, Rain Go Away and Don't Come Back til Fall

It has not been a nice few days here in the Northeast. The rain came at the end of the week and has lingered, dispensing a fine mist that is never ending. Our family is not happy about this freak weather system and is chomping at the bit to get back to our regularly scheduled summer activities. (I haven't hit a tennis ball since last Tuesday, people! I am going through a serious withdrawal.)

Instead of our normal weekend activity of playing at the pool with our buddies:

We have been forced to come up with a more creative way to entertain ourselves indoors. Forts composed of boxes and bubble packing? Rock on.

(Hmmm, the availability of all those boxes probably confirms I have an online shopping problem.)

If all else fails, we make crazy hats out of construction paper and dance like crazy. Desperate times call for desperate measures! Let's hope the sun comes back soon.

(Check out Griffin's face near the end of the video. I think he is trying to sing the bass line. As an added bonus, you can also hear Aidan and Brennan "negotiating" the merger of their box/bubble wrap spaceships/forts.)

Swim Team 2009

Opening practice for swim team 2009. This year, no tears and two kiddies in the pool. Brennan jumped right into the pool like a champ. He was a streamlining fool. Aidan was all over his strokes and did laps like a champ.

All this and a freak weather pattern that brought us rain and 55 degree weather.

You know they love it when they even want to get in the water in spite of their goose bumps.

Sing, Sing a Song

Aidan had a playdate with a boy from school. After he was dropped off at our house, Aidan's friend asked if they could play on the computer.

"Sure," I said and then asked, "What do you guys want to look up on the computer?"

"I want to go to YouTube and show Aidan some videos." The friend replied.

"Hmmm, what kind of videos?" I asked.

"Of my favorite song! It's called 'Love Game'" He said enthusiastically.

I smiled at him as I tried to piece this whole thing together. A song? Love Game? YouTube? And I thought having kids addicted to Star Wars was a challenge.

I opted to play it safe. I told the boys we could look up the song on itunes and play the clip so Aidan could hear it.

We did. The clip said something to the effect of someone dancing on someones disco stick. Oh boy. Aidan's friend enthusiastically rocked out to the clip.

After the clip ended, he looked at Aidan and asked, "Aidan, what's your favorite song?"

Aidan paused, thought about it for a second and answered, "Eye of the Tiger."

I had to leave the room to hide my laughter. He is so his father's son, that's all I have to say.

Go Directly to Jail

Aidan's schooling of the past two weeks has basically consisted of a daily field trip to here and there and everywhere. The teacher always requests a few parents to chaperone the class for each trip. My chaotic schedule, combined with work and the responsibilities of two other little kiddies (no siblings on field trips!), has made my chaperoning options limited. This is how I got stuck taking his class to the local Whoville police station instead of to the more exotic locales of the Buffalo Zoo or the Sweet Shoppe.

I mean, it's Whoville people. How much goes on at our police station anyway?

Not much apparently. They pretty much let the kids wander anywhere and everywhere, including locking them up in the empty jail cells. (I winked at the officer as he locked up the cell doors and asked if I could drop off my other two kiddies later on in the day for lock down. I don't think he knew if he should take me seriously or not. He gave me a small, nervous smile and backed quickly away from me.)




After lock down, the officer even gave us a tour of the local Whoville courtroom. It brought back many a memory for me, back in the day, fresh out of law school as a brand spankin' new assistant district attorney. As a new ADA, I spent my days (and nights!) holed up in many a town courtroom. I engaged in quite alot of sophisticated jurisprudence (jury trials for drunk driving charges), intertwined with excruciatingly long arraignments where my supervisor told me to think of the clanking of chains of the prisoners as mere "sleigh bells." I realized I wasn't cut out for the life of crime fighter when I won my first probation violation hearing, resulting in jail time for the defendant. I should have celebrated my victory, but instead I had to quickly excuse myself to the judge's chambers where I promptly burst into tears. The judge found me there still crying five minutes later. He wasn't quite sure what to do with me. At that moment, the only thing I was most sure of was that I was probably not cut out to be a career prosecutor.

(And then I sold out, selling my soul in return for a white collar job at a fancy law firm doing anything that did NOT involve going to court. Anything but that. Me, save the world? What? Ah, I was cute that way.)

But today, was simple. No soul searching or tears, just police sirens and cute jail, all to entertain a bunch of sweet first graders in the last few days of school before summer.

Let's Pretend

Griffin is a daddy's boy through and through. If given a choice between his mom or dad, it's all daddy all the time. After two boys who personify the "momma's boy" moniker, it is somewhat bewildering to me to have a child, my last sweet baby, who prefers his daddy's arms to mine.

Sometimes it makes me laugh. Other times it hurts just a bit.

Today, though, it made me laugh.

I took the boys to the pool for the morning. As I swam with Griffin, giving him rides on my back around and around the pool, he turned into my arms, gazed at me with his big blue-green eyes and asked that fateful question, "Where's my Daddy?"

"He's on the golf course G, but he'll meet us to swim a little bit later." I replied, smiling.

Griffin strikes a pout and says, "But I want to swim with him now Mommy."

"I know honey, and you can swim with him later."

He shakes his head back and forth as he considers my answer. After a moment, he looks at me with a huge grin and tells me, "I know! I am going to pretend you are my Daddy. So then I am swimming with my Daddy. Okay? Let's go Daddy! Swim!"

Hmmm, not a huge fan of this pretend game. I smile at Griffin and say sweetly, "What about your Mommy Griff? Don't you want to swim with your Mommy?"

He gives me a look that tells me he is not amused.

"No, Mommy isn't here. Mommy is at golf. Daddy is here to swim with me. Let's swim Daddy!"

Yes, so Daddy gets to golf with his buddies and still get all the credit for swim time at the pool while Mommy does all the work. Perhaps I should have taken up golfing instead of tennis.

Oh, Monday.

I skipped the trip to Wegmans over the weekend even though we needed it. We really, truly needed it. If they didn't serve food at the pool, we probably would have all starved. But combine the pool food with the spread at my cousin Allison's graduation party, and we were well fed even if the cupboards were bare.

This worked great for me and my tendency to procrastinate, right up until I sipped my first cup of Monday morning coffee and something just didn't taste right. Hmmm, two cups in and well, damn, if this doesn't taste like decaf.

Hell hath no fury like a mom denied her caffeine. (And a pox on the husband who tries to pass off the decaf in the coffee maker as real coffee before scurrying off to work.)

Wegmans immediately became a Monday morning priority. I rushed the kids through getting dressed. I ran upstairs to brush my teeth and realized that Chris had kindly used up all the toothpaste. I was left with the boys' special bubble game flavored paste for my teeth-brushing.

How any mouth can feel fresh after brushing with a fake bubble gum toothpaste is beyond me. It's pretty gross. Mouth gaggingly gross.

We make it out to Wegmans in record time. I negotiate a dispute over cart selection with the boys, finally settling them all into a mammoth cart with seats for all. I desperately push them over to the coffee bar, my eyes intent on the biggest iced coffee I can order. I place my order, search in my purse for my wallet to pay and find... no wallet.

I forgot my wallet. No money, no coffee. No caffeine, no happy mommy.

I get the kids out of the cart and hustle them back to the car. As we hustle, Griffin trips over a crack in the road and falls hard on his knee. The scraped knee proves too much for the little guy and he dissolves into a full blown crying tantrum in the middle of the parking lot. Brennan, always a sympathetic crier, decides to join in. They are both quite the spectacle.

A woman walking by us rolls her eyes at me before she quickly looks away. With a jolt, I realize I am part of the spectacle. I am that mother with those kids.

And I never even got to have my sweet, lovely, oh so needed iced coffee. Not a drop.

Field Day Friday and Swimming Saturday

Aidan's class celebrated field days on Friday. I took Brennan and Griffin to cheer him on while he raced. We giggled at the sight of the kids running relays that forced them to change into long sleeve shirts and laughed out loud at the sight of them sliding around the gym floor in their socks to find their shoes from a giant pile. It was very cute, but also exceptionally loud. After a half an hour Griffin turned to me, placed his hands over his ears and yelled, "I can't hear ANYTHING Mommy!"

It's amazing how loud forty kids can be in a confined space.

After naps, we had soccer that evening. It was a beautifully sunny night, perfect to sit and watch a few soccer games. Brennan made quite a few spectacular saves in goal and Aidan made a few of his breakaway goal specials.

Today, we have been lazy by the pool. It is our regular weekend activity of summer. We meet up with friends to watch our kids play by the pool. We enjoy lunch and easy conversation. It is one of my most favorite things of summer.

Tonight, Chris and I are headed out to see Tragically Hip in concert. We have first row seats to a sold out show. I almost feel like a rock star. Almost.

Summer Days

When I picture summer, I picture long lazy days full of nothing to do but enjoy the sunshine. Our reality is always the opposite. We hit Memorial Day, celebrate the opening weekend of summer, and quickly launch into a crazy schedule jam packed full of stuff. Stuff, stuff and MORE stuff.

It's all good. It's full of friends and family, the pool, soccer, golf and tennis, backyard barbecues and graduation parties, concerts and festivals. All wonderfully fun stuff. It's just alot.

I get anxious when I look at my calendar and see it full. And each year, I promise, I swear, that this year I will learn to gracefully decline a few things here and there to preserve a few long lazy days of summer. It's June and my record is not looking so good. But I have hope for July. Really.

My addition of a tennis addiction has only further exacerbated our full schedule. I am playing tennis at least three times a week, sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less. This week, it's a lot more. It's five nights in a row of banging that little yellow ball across a court. Thankfully, most of the nights involve matches that start at 8:30 pm. This allows me to put the kids to bed before I indulge my inner tennis player. But it also means that I am putting in some long, late nights. I got home past 11 pm on Monday night and Tuesday night, after showering and unwinding from my match high, I went to bed past 1 am. I am tired. The type of tired that might allow me to doze at my desk.

On Tuesday, I forgot to set my alarm to get all of us up and out of the house to work and school. Chris is normally our morning guy, but he is traveling for work this week, leaving me to get through the morning rush alone. Aidan has to catch the bus at 7:25 am. At 7:20 am, Aidan woke me up from a very deep sleep.

"Mom? Mom? It's 7:20!" He said as he patted my back quietly.

I looked over and saw him already dressed in his school uniform. He had brushed his teeth and combed his hair. When he was sure I was awake, he smiled at me and said, "Brennan is still sleeping. Griffin is in his crib awake. Do you want me to go read to Griffin while you get up?"

I could have eaten that child whole such was my love for him in that moment.

We all made it up and out of the house in record time. I count it as a minor success that Aidan woke me up at 7 am this morning. I just might survive the mornings this week after all. At least until Chris gets home.

My Monkey

Last week, the boys were outside playing in the backyard while I cleaned up the kitchen. After a few minutes, I glanced out the back window and noticed Brennan was missing.

I walked to the back door and yelled to Aidan, "Aidan! Where's Brennan?"

Aidan looked around and replied, "I don't know."

I felt a slight panic as I yelled, "Brennan?! Brennan!"

Then I heard a little giggle, followed by a rustling in one of our large pine trees.

"I'm up here Momma! Look!"

Brennan had climbed a tree. Not only had he just climbed up a tree, but he climbed pretty high up that tree.

Once Brennan discovered his climbing talent, there was no stopping him. He climbed it again and again, in spite of the sharp pine needles, bug bites and scratches on his skin. I have lost count of the number of times I have glanced up and found Brennan sitting high up in one of the trees in our backyard.

Brennan is our little monkey and he is quite proud of his climbing prowess. Neither of his brothers will attempt the feat. I think he likes it best that way.

Summer Lovin'

The pool is officially open, and it is 70 plus degrees and sunny. I could not have conjured up a more perfect Memorial Day weekend if I tried. We swam and spent much time lounging by the pool. We enjoyed time with family and friends. The boys had ice cream three days in a row. Chris golfed to his heart's content in a tournament and I even managed to sneak in a few hours of tennis.

We were back to reality this morning, sleepily trying to get out of the house on time in spite of the disorganized chaos left in the wake of a busy summer lovin' type of weekend.

It was just the first weekend of the summer, with many more to come. We can't wait to soak up every last bit.

Cousins

The boys love their cousins and treat them like rock stars. We are fortunate to live on the same street with most of our family which allows the boys to soak up their cousins as much as possible.

This accessibility extends to the swimming pool. There has been many a time one of our cousins has arrived for some quality time at the pool with their friends, only to be tackled or hugged to death by my boys.

Thankfully, the cousins seem to like it just as much as the boys do.

Summertime and the Livin' is Easy

Summer is on its way. The sun is shining. The sky is perfectly blue. The breezes are warm and comforting. And in two days, the pool opens officially for the season.

Today was a beautiful, warm day. I was a little grumpy to be stuck at work, inside, while the sun shone so brightly. But I comforted myself with forgoing our traditional dinner plans and instead picked up a pizza on the way home from work. The boys and I had an impromptu picnic outside, eating dinner on paper plates as we soaked up the early evening breeze. I shed my work shoes for flip flops and got comfortable on the patio. I giggled as I watched Aidan push Griffin on the swing. I was amazed at my monkey child Brennan who has decided his new favorite thing is to climb trees in our backyard. The boys ran and played until much past their bedtime. But it was good - all very good.

We were all happy and relaxed. Summer feels good on our family.

Soccer Boys

Spring soccer, game on! As I may have mentioned, soccer in whoville is on the crazy side. Anyone and everyone with a child can be found at the huge soccer fields on Friday night in whoville. They stagger the times for games and practices by age group and it creates such a traffic logjam that the local police is required to direct traffic for most of the evening.

You have to see it to believe it.

This year, Chris volunteered to be the assistant coach for Aidan's team with our friend Dylan as coach. This allowed us to sneak in Brennan for some playing time even though he is technically under the age limit. Brennan is in love with soccer. He practices his drills at home, talks about it incessantly and asks everyday, multiple times, when he can go to soccer.

There is also something really sweet about seeing both Aidan and Brennan on the same team, playing together. They overwhelm me with their cuteness in their matching uniforms and big smiles. As teammates, however, they have very different soccer styles. Aidan is fast and often the first to get to the ball, but he prefers not to fight for the ball and will willingly surrender it to another player. Aidan's goals tend to be breakaways without challenges from the other team.

Brennan, on the other hand, takes soccer as more of a contact sport than is required. I had to remind him several times this past Friday that the kids with the red shirts were his own teammates and therefore, he didn't need to tackle, push or kick them out of the way to get to the ball. Brennan has yet to make a goal, but he did knock down half of his own team attempting to get the ball going in the right direction.

They may approach soccer differently, but for both boys - it's pure fun. I have to admit it is just as much fun for me to cheer them on from the sidelines.

Icky, Icky Boys

This is a conversation I really wish I had NOT overheard amongst my boys. (Please note I have purposefully omitted the names of the involved parties in order to protect the innocent.)

Boy 1: (whispers softly to his brother) "I just stuck my finger in my ear and licked it. It tasted REALLY gross!"

Boy 2: (whispers back softly) "Oh yeah?"

Boy 1: "Yeah! Gross!"

Boy 2 sits in quiet contemplation for a moment, leans over to Boy 1 and whispers, "I've eaten my boogers before and that was pretty gross too."

Boy 1: "Wow."

Boys. Icky, icky, little boys.

Twisting the Knife

Griffin and I are rocking in his room before bed, snuggling close. I rub his back while he rests his head against my shoulder, tucked into my neck. We rock back and forth in silence for a few minutes.

Griffin slowly lifts his head, catches my eye and says softly, "I'm happy now Mommy."

"You are?" I reply smiling, "I like when you're happy G."

"I am. Happy!" He smiles sadly and continues, "I was sad when you were gone. Just sad."

Ouch. He gave me a nice heaping dose of mommy guilt with that little dig.

The boys definitely have a tough time whenever I travel, which truly isn't often. I could probably count the number of times I have been away on my fingers. It seemed this time Griffin seemed to have the worst time adjusting to my absence. I returned to a needier and much more emotional Griffin. He clutched my legs when I had to leave to go to work and sobbed, begging me "not to go." He also told my mom to "go home" when she was at our house, fearful that she was there to babysit him. He needs to know where I am in the house at all times or he gets really agitated.

But he's happy now. Happy.

Griffin Discovers He May Have a Future with the WWF

It's all crazy, all the time.

Girlfriends

There are many things in my life for which I am grateful. At the top of the list is my girlfriends. I have had the honor of sharing my life with some truly amazing women. The type of women who are accomplished and beautiful and smart, but manage to also be kind and supportive and generous. My friends always chose to see the best in me and I, in turn, in them. The power of a good female friendship is pretty remarkable.

This weekend I escaped to the beach with three very dear friends - Diane, Amy and Christine. I have been friends with Diane and Amy for over half my life. We are, as many have commented over the years, big complimentors. We spend most of our time together telling each other how wonderful each other are or how beautiful. Your ego gets quite a boost from some time with these women.

Six years ago, Amy, Diane and I were gabbing in the backyard watching the setting sun at Diane's home in Portland, Oregon. Joining us was a new friend of Diane's, a neighbor - who was meeting us for the first time. After fifteen minutes of hearing us talk to each other ("You are so beautiful tonight! I love that shirt on you! You are so smart! I love how you told that story! You amaze me with your accomplishments! etc, etc."), she interrupted us with wide eyes and remarked, "I'm sorry, but do you guys always talk to each other like this?"

We asked her, dumbfounded, "Like what?"

"Like this!" She gestured wildly as she tried to explain, "I feel like I'm in the middle of a freakin' Oprah Winfrey show or something. I've never heard anything like this in my life!"

We laughed, shrugged our shoulders and told her, without apology, that yes, this is how we talk to each other. We always have. We always will. We are lucky.

This weekend, joined by Christine, the big ego boost continued. When we were not saying nice things to each other, we told stories that made us laugh so hard we cried. We stayed up until midnight each night talking. We soaked up the beach, lounged in the pool and enjoyed margaritas as we watched the setting sun. I spent most of each day and night interjecting into each conversation with the phrase, "I am so happy."

It was four days that was, simply, a gift. I have always heard that your female friends act as a mirror to your own self. If that is true, I probably have a better, a kinder, a prettier and a way funnier mirror than I deserve.

Brennan: On Mommy 2009

Brennan's class created their requisite Mommy posters to decorate the walls of the school for Mother's Day. Below a drawing of a giant flower and a green stick figure with one piece of blue hair, Brennan answered the following to his teacher's questions:

My Mom's Name Is.... "Mommy"

My Mom's Favorite Thing To Do Is.... "Drive to Wegmans." (He must sense my excitement over strolling the artisan bread and bakery aisle. My focaccia and Nonna's fougasse is calling me! When I laughed over this answer, the teacher confided that one of the other kiddies wrote their Mom's favorite thing to do was... sleep. Love it.)

When I Come To School My Mom... "Goes to Work."

I Love My Mom Because... "She gives me surprises every night." (I have no idea on this one. Surprises? Not a clue.)

First Crush

Brennan has a crush. It's the first crush for our group of boys. Aidan has never spared a girl a second glance, despite always requiring a quick clothes change before his buddy Ellie comes over to play. But, Brennan has spared a second glance and even a third. He's got it. And he's got it bad.

Her name is Amelia, Lia for short. She is very cute - blonde ringlet hair, big blue eyes. She's a doll and she has stolen the heart of my second born.

It started with Brennan talking about her quite a lot around the house. He started requesting play dates with Lia in between his prolonged discussions on her virtues. After a few weeks of much discussion on the life of Lia, Brennan boldly announced last week that he "has a girlfriend!" And then he looked at me squarely and said, "And her name is Lia, Mom."

"I figured as much Brennan. Lia is a nice friend to have." I told him while my heart broke a little.

Today I picked him up from school. He ran into my arms to give me a hug. After he left my arms, he quickly ran over to Lia to tease her about something and tug at her hair. Brennan quickly caught my eye as he stood behind Lia and mouthed to me, "This is LIA!" He then smiled a sheepish smile and ran to grab his backpack.

Lia. Tonight, I learned that Lia is "very tall." She is also "very funny." And she knows how to "dive in deep water. Like deep, deep water mommy. Deep!" I also promised to set up a swimming play date over the summer with master swimmer Lia.

I should have known Brennan would be the first to fall head first into his first crush. I know I should have known, but it's bittersweet just the same.

Naked Dance

I recently told our neighbor across the street, a mother to two girls the same age as Aidan and Brennan, that if she ever wanted to teach her children the male anatomy she simply had to direct her girls to glance out their windows at 7 pm to watch my boys prepare for bath time. If it's bath time, then my boys are dancing naked.

There is no shyness in the naked dance. Oh no, no shyness indeed. It's full out booty wiggling, jumping and twirling all while screaming with glee from the sheer nakedness. Boys like their bodies. Every single inch of their bodies. (Okay, some parts get a little more (ahem) love than others.)

The front of our house has many a window open to our neighbors across the street. The hallway upstairs which is home to the naked dance is wide open to the windows - meaning that the neighbors get quite a show if they happen to be looking out the window towards our humble abode. For all we know, the naked dance gets many a standing ovation from our neighborhood. It's quite a dance.

I can handle the windows and the eyewitnesses to my boys' special brand of crazy. But tonight I was oh so grateful that the eyewitnesses could not also hear my children sing with gusto as they danced naked. Because tonight they created a whole new song, courtesy of the creative genius of Brennan. It's a sweet little ditty called, "I Love My Penis."

As far as I can tell it goes something like, "I love my penis. My penis! I have a smelly butt. Do you want to smell my butt. My butt is slimy! I love my penis!"

After three or four rounds of Brennan singing as he danced, Aidan and Griffin caught on and joined him on the chorus.

It was quite a sight. The naked dance meeting the penis song. If only I had thought to grab video.

Beach

Ah, vacation. Lovely, wonderful vacation. The beach was terrific, as beautiful as always.

The night before our vacation starts the same as every other. I run around like a lunatic, swearing, stressed out beyond belief attempting to pack for myself and three children. I pack up backpacks for carry on filled with toys, books, snacks and treats. I make lists, check off lists, and make new lists. I lay out everyone's clothes for the plane and pack a carry with everyone's essentials just in case. I download kiddie shows for my ipod just in case of emergency. I charge up a D.S. and check batteries in the leapster and camera. I get grumpy at the work and wonder why we even bother to go on vacation.

Chris laughs at me, tells me he has no idea what I am so worked up about, and packs a small bag for himself in under two minutes.

In my next life, I am coming back as the Dad.

After all the bags are packed, including Chris's, I wait until I am all alone with the luggage destined for check in and I start to stash my secret library. Books, books and more books are tucked into nooks, crannies and pockets - inside of everyone's stuff, including mine.

This works every year and satisfies my small (ahem) addiction to reading on vacation and well, all the time. But this year, the boys' collective bag was overweight. Chris raised eyebrows at me as I sheepishly had to extract no less than four hard cover books from the boys' bag while we checked our luggage.

The jig is up!

We arrived in Florida relatively unscathed. The direct flight was dreamy and oh, so wonderfully quick. We spent our days in the sun soaking up every last bit of vacation. The mornings were at the beach, digging or building sand castles in between hopping waves. After lunch, Griffin went down for a nap and I took Aidan and Brennan to the pool.

It was glorious.

At the end of each day, the boys were exhausted from all the sun, all the activity and all the fun. We all managed to sleep well, even with us tucked into one bedroom.

We all loved the time with my grandparents. Griffin dazzled my grandmother with plenty of hugs and smiles. Aidan and Brennan loved talking up my grandfather on anything and everything. We even fit in a trip to the local aquarium where the boys were over the moon touching sting rays and watching sharks, manatees and dolphins swim.

I have vacationed at the same spot for over ten years. I always question if we should mix it up a bit and pick someplace new. But then we get there and it is perfection. All of it. I start my day drinking my coffee watching the surf and end my day gazing at the setting sun. There is no other place I would rather be.

Balance

On most days of my life as a working mom, I work for balance. The part time gig helps me achieve a somewhat delicate balance tempered with some guilt, a little frustration, and often a bit of stress. But it's balance. I have an intellectually stimulating job I enjoy (most of the time). I get more time with my children on my three day a week schedule than if I worked the slave hours demanded of a full time lawyer. All in all, I feel like my life has achieved a successful compromise that works for me as a person and as a mom.

The balance doesn't work when one part of the compromise pushes back. On Friday, work pushed back into my family time. I had a client with an emergency, a serious holy crap this is going to cost them a ton of money emergency, who needed me on a 10 am conference call with 5 other people. I found out about the mandatory call at 8 am. I had no child care and I was at home with three children. There are clients with whom I can swing the whole "please ignore my kiddies screaming in the background thing" during our work call, but this was not one of those clients. This was a client who could not even know I HAD any children, let alone that I was about to discuss very important things while also caring for said children.

Ten minutes before the call, I turned on a movie for the boys, gave them popcorn and a bag of marshmallows as a bribe, and begged them to stay in the playroom for the next fifteen minutes. The fear in my eyes was enough to get them all to agree with me. I ran and hid in the laundry room for the call.

The call went a little longer than fifteen minutes. After forty-five minutes, I could hear Griffin getting antsy in the playroom. When his bellows for me turned into screaming wails and he discovered my hiding place in the laundry room, I did the only thing I could think of - I hung up the phone as fast as I could. I placated the kids quickly, bribed Griffin with a juice box (grape juice, hello stained carpet!) and ran upstairs to my closet to take part two of the call. After reconnecting, I took a deep breath and calmly told the client that my cell phone had inadvertently dropped the call.

I thought the worst was over when the call ended. I took the kids outside to play and promised to make the morning up to them. When I checked my work email later that day, I got an email requesting that I travel to New York City for meetings on Monday. Then I got a call from one of the higher ups at my firm regarding some issues with another client. I was on my third conference call of the day when Brennan slipped off the slide and wailed in my arms as I held on to the phone with my shoulder and head.

It was insanity. It was beyond stressful. And it made me ready to say fuck it all, I am done.

There are times when you try to please everyone and you end up pleasing no one. This is how I feel when my work-life balance gets out of whack. There is too much need and not enough of me to fill the need - from work or home.

I had a nice old fashioned meltdown later that night. I gave Chris enough of a scare that he told me I was off duty on Saturday - from work and home. He got up with the kids in the morning so I could sleep in (until 8:30 - that's almost the middle of the day in our house!). He took the kids out of the house on a field trip to Home Depot to give me some quiet time at home. He even took the kids out to dinner while I met some girlfriends for too much Italian food and good red wine.

I desperately needed that little break. It convinced me I have the strength to get back into my life and regain some of my hard won balance. And if that doesn't work, I leave for a week long vacation on Tuesday. Balance seems easier with a little sand between your toes.

Keeping It Real

Brennan and I were walking down the hall at his school when a man and a little boy approached. As they got close to us, Brennan waved, smiled brightly and said to me, "Mom, this is my friend Owen!"

I smiled at Owen and said hello to him and his Dad.

We were just about past them in the hall when Brennan continued in his loud preschooler voice, "My friend Owen likes to pee in his pants!"

There is no such thing as a filter to a preschooler. None.

All Good Things

This weekend was everything good. My brothers were home for the weekend. I always look forward to spending time with them and seeing them visit with the boys, but it never feels like we get enough time. This weekend we got the perfect amount of time. Time spent together just hanging out and enjoying each other's company.

We began our festivities with a little doubles tennis - Chris and I versus Travis and Seth. I only wish someone had filmed our match. Seth dove for each ball - often ending up lying across the court battered and bruised. I had never seen anyone with open bleeding sores after a short tennis match. It wasn't enough that Seth dove for every ball. He demanded Travis follow suit and screamed "dive!" at full volume anytime the ball got close to Travis.

It was a miracle Chris or I managed to hit the ball at all considering how hard we were laughing at the antics on the other side of the net. But, oh we hit it. We so hit it. And we cleaned up the court with my competitive, athletic brothers. I see many a rematch in our future.

After tennis, Seth and Travis spent most of the day at our house. We didn't do much of anything really, but relax and play much wii. Our cousin Liam joined us and it felt like a little party all day long. Seth and Travis left for all of an hour to come back for dinner, Buffalo style: pizza, chicken wings and chicken finger subs. The amount of food consumed was awe inspiring.

The next day, Easter began nice and early with the boys clamoring to head downstairs and begin the basket hunt. The big basket filler this year was Legos. Legos, legos and more legos. The boys immediately set to work, building to their hearts' content with Chris's patient assistance. (I suck at following lego building instructions so not a soul asked me for any help.)

My brothers and Grandma Jo Jo stopped over for Easter breakfast. We started the fun with an Easter egg hunt with eggs cleverly hidden outside in the quite chilly morning air by Seth, Trav and Liam. The boys loved the hunt and loved the candy in the eggs even more.

It was a perfect weekend, full of family and relaxing fun. I had tears in my eyes when I said goodbye to the NYC crew as they headed back to real life, but I was grateful for a weekend full of all good things with people I love.

Paralyzed

We leave for Florida in a week and a half. We are all counting down the days, excited for our time at the beach. But beneath that excitement, I am a little stressed. I have so much to do before we go. So much to do, in fact, that I am spending too much time paralyzed by indecision as to what I actually should be doing in order to get some things done. (How's that for my special brand of crazy, huh?)

This weekend is full of holiday gatherings and time with family. I host both Easter brunch with my family and Easter dinner with Chris's family. On Monday, I will watch three of my friends' children as part of our school break co-op. I have work to do, crazy busy full of stressful mean clients, work to do during the week. Next weekend is turning into a logistical nightmare of balancing family schedules.

I have to pack. For me and three children. I need to pack carry ons that contain fun, engaged activities for the kids. And I am pretty sure I need to squeeze in a shopping trip since Aidan owns no summer clothes that actually fit him. (But yet, I forget this every time I shop and instead keep buying oh, so cute, oh so adorable baby boy clothes for Griffin. Griffin who owns more clothes than any little boy really should.)

So. I am stressed. It's silly stress. All good stuff. But it's the sort of stress that keeps to do lists running constantly in my head, and convinces me to waste precious minutes playing around on facebook rather than baking for our easter festivities. I am officially paralyzed by my to-do list.

The beach will be free of to do lists. The beach will mean nothing but sun, the kids digging in endless sand and lots of quality family time. If I can only get myself through my temporary paralysis of panic, the beach will be here before we know it.

Independence

On Saturday night, we attended a party to celebrate my Aunt Nancy's 50th birthday. It was the normal chaotic scene of any family function. Their house was bursting at the seams with family and friends with kids running every which way.

Aidan and Brennan scattered immediately upon shedding their coats. They joined the gang of kids playing basketball in the foyer or ping pong and rock band in the basement. They checked in with me every now and again, but for the most part they were off on their own.

I expected Griffin to stick close to me. He is two. The house was loud and many of the people unfamiliar. At two, Aidan and Brennan would have clung to my legs or that of a willing cousin for most of the festivities.

But, Griffin always manages to surprise me. I lost sight of him after a few minutes. I found him ten minutes later in the living room. He was sitting on a couch, holding a bottle of water and swaying back and forth to the music as random people jammed on a piano and two guitars. He was content to listen and just hang out. Griffin's head would bob back and forth with the beat of whatever song was playing and he would clap at the end of the song. He knew not one of the people in that room, but he couldn't have cared less.

I saw peeks of him throughout the night. He checked in with me every so often, but not any more than his older brothers. I saw him grab a plate from the buffet and help himself to some fruit. I saw him play basketball and chat with friends of my family. He strutted through the house as if he owned it. If he needed anything, he grabbed whatever person was closest and asked for help.

He was confident and oh, so independent. I am not convinced this fearless toddler was ever a baby.

A Date Day

Chris's parents asked us if they could take the kids out to lunch and shopping today. The thought of just us, alone in the house, on a random weekend day was almost overwhelming. You seriously do not know how to appreciate the quiet of an empty house until after you have children. Silence is beautiful. Truly.

I dragged Chris out to play tennis. We enjoyed some quiet time at home. We even managed to get out for a quiet lunch. It was a lovely day. After we returned home from lunch, we walked into the empty house and I said, "Do you hear that? Do you?"

Chris gave me a strange look and said, "Hear what?"

I smiled and replied, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Ah, the lure of a quiet house. It's a simple pleasure.